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#one day I'll do the split color hair thing
nicoliharu · 2 months
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Coli!! Hi hi good morning!! Do you have any Headcanons for Ruggie?? Like, when you draw him do you have anything you always include or leave out? Just curious hehe I love your art!! Have a nice day <3 <3 <3
Hi Dede! Thanks for the ask🥺😭💗
I will comment on what I would like to do differently when I draw him cause for me you write him PERFECT and I wouldn't change anything! This guy is precious and needs love to know he isn't inferior to anyone! 😭💗
⚠️ My headcanons (design) Ruggie Bucchi:
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So, aren't that many changes, it's just simple, the way I usually imagine him 🥺👉👈
🍩 Skin: Ruggie has more melanin, I personally love Ruggie with any skin tone but forgive me Yana but it's hard to resist painting his skin like that.
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I mean, I think it goes much better with his color palette. Personally, I would paint with this palette for him in my fanart and content forever. I want to eternally thank whoever had the idea of giving more melanin to his plush 🥺💗 I don't know if it's my laptop screen that's old, but it looks a little desaturated, but I'll adjust over time.
🍩 Blonde lashes: I still need to practice more cause I love the idea that Ruggie would have some blonde lashes, not gold and flashy but brown light 🥺
🍩 Freckles: Excessive on the nose/cheeks, ends of the arms, and a lot on the back…IT'S CANON IN MY HEAD, YANA YOU FAILED ME, HOW YOU DARE?? HOW CAN YOU NOT GIVE HIM FRECKLES?😭
🍩 Body hair: Well, he's a guy who's growing, he's about to turn 18, there's no chance no have body hair. Besides, I believe that beastmen have more body hair than humans, so for Ruggie I imagine golden hair but if it gets wet it turns a little brown, on the arms and legs 😔👉👈
🍩 Eye pupil: I know that's normal but I like to think that his pupil becomes ''thin'' (how in English is this?) when he feels threatened or annoyed by something and dilates when he sees something that interests/likes him.
🍩 Teeth: Bigger and thicker than Leona and Jack. Please, spotted hyenas have a bone-breaking bite and tear thick skins too. Ruggie canonically said he can easily eat steak with bones…Oh gosh if he likes bite who he lov- STOP NICOLI SHHHH
🍩 Hair: A little rough and messy with some split ends, I don't think he cares much about any special shampoo or conditioner, taking care of his hair. Besides, I think he occasionally cuts it with scissors on his own. I know I could leave it wavy or curly but thinking that rough bristles remind me of hyenas' fur makes me so 🥺
🍩 Body: We know that Ruggie's thin cause his condition but I believe that his legs and arms are ''strong'' of cause the acrobatic way in which he moves, both day to day, running and practicing at the Club. I don't mean bulging muscles but you realize that given his activities and abilities it makes sense!!! 😔
🍩 About the piercing: it was a detail I wanted to add but I don't know if I always imagine him with that or not 🤡👌
Forgive my grammar and English mistakes! These are my humble headcanons for Ruggie's design, if anyone thinks differently this is just fun for everyone, y'all have the right to imagine how they want. And I would like to say one more thing, about other details that I can only talk about better with more drawings, such as excess hair with spots above his tail (I love this detail too). So there will always be changes for everything!
Thank you again for your ask Dede, you're a wonderful writer that I admire so much and love your works! 🥺😭💗💗💗
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starburts-addict · 3 months
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Never Again
Pairing: Yandere!Vil x afab!Reader
CW: Pregnancy ment., Dead beat Vil, implied accusations of tampering with pretoection, kidnapping, parents being shitty and disowning their pregnant kid, heavily implications of some actually tampering with protection, just not talked about, Reader is not Yuu, not proof read, drugging(?) But it's just Vil using a handkerchief he cast a curse on beforehand
NOTES:
[S/N] = Son's Name
[Y/HC] = Your hair color
[Y/N] = Your name
Honestly this was based off a dream sorta, so it's probably shitty and ooc. It was a late night writing practice tbh.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not at all. It is your graduation day and right now you're panicking in the bathroom. Two weeks ago, you and Vil decided to spend a night with each other to destress. You both even went extra lengths to make sure nothing would arise from that night. Now here you were, having a breakdown over the fact you were pregnant with his child. He would never let this slide. You can't keep it from him though. After the ceremony was done with, you approached Vil and asked to talk to him in private. You told him about your pregnancy to which he scoffed at and said that he wanted to do nothing with that thing. He called the baby a thing. A thing! You held back tears. You didn't really have any strong emotions towards Vil, he was your friend, you thought he would at least help. He wanted nothing to do with you and the baby. Even accused you of having to do something with it. You both argued, but in the end you stormed off crying.
It's been eight years. You gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. With Vil's eye color, but with [y/hc] hair. When you initially told your parents, they left you at the ceremony. You ended up not telling anyone and you didn't have any means to get back to your hometown. What did you end up doing? Staying at Sage Isle. You started to work at two jobs, one at a restaurant and another at the local library. You did everything you could do to ensure [S/N] had a good life. You didn't need any help from Vil. You were both happy and at some point, you met a guy named Leo who lived In the isle. He moved for school and he was back a year after you had graduated as he had stayed an extra year for a longer education. He helped you out for seven years and in the fifth, you both ended up falling for each other and started to date. 
It may not be perfect, but it was perfect to you. This life was perfect. Even with all the blemishes it has. You would do nothing to change anything… So why did everything have to take a turn for the worse? You heard Vil was shooting part of a movie in the Isle. You avoided him. You made sure you avoided any setting he was at. You made sure that Vil didn't see you at all so as to not upset him, you and especially [S/N]. One day, Leo and your son were shopping for groceries for your shared home. Leo had to step away to answer a call from wor, and you were keeping your son entertained until you heard your name being called out by a familiar voice you'd hope to never hear in person again. Your fear raised as turned to see Vil. Your expression was fearful for a split second before you had to keep a straight face.
“Hello Schoenheit.” You said to him nonchalantly. “What are you doing here?” Vil asked coldly. All your fear washed away and was replaced by rage, but you kept it hidden. “I live here, I'm shopping with my kid and partner.” “Aren't you supposed to be in [H/C]?” He doesn’t know, nor do you care if he did or not, but  you did if [S/N] knew. You turned to him and smiled. “Go with Leo, I'll be there.” You said, hesitantly he followed your request and you turned to face the man who practically shared the blame of ruining your life. “If you must know, they disowned me. If you're here to mock me, you're better off leaving me alone. Especially since you constantly have paparazzi. You wouldn't want to ruin your reputation would you?” Vil sneered and came close to you. “It's better if we talk in private then. Meet me at the docks at ten at night.” You rolled your eyes as he walked away. You wouldn't end up going.
How foolish were you?! It's almost ten and you ended up going to the docks. You told Leo beforehand as he took care of [S/N]. You both were hesitant about this decision, but you ended up arriving like an idiot. “You did arrive.” You turned to see Vil with a smirk. “Wipe that off your face. What do you want? I want to get this over with.” Vil approached you and came closer. “I did some investigation… I know you aren't happy, let me propose this. Let's get married. Don't you want a good life for [S/N]?” He said. Your blood boiled as he put a hand on your shoulder. You swatted it as he finished speaking. “Don't you fucking speak to me as if you care. You know nothing about me. I am very happy with my life. If anything I'll be happier than you ever will be.” You both argued for a long while before in the heat of the moment, Vil couldn't keep the facade up he held. “You aren't supposed to be happy! You're supposed to be sad and come running to me!” He yelled. You were confused was an understatement. “What's that supposed to mean Schoenheit?” 
There you go again referring to him as his last name. He hated that, but he had spilled a piece of information he wasn't supposed to. He was furious at himself, but he can't dwell on that. “I rejected [S/N] so you could depend on me. I wanted you to know you needed me. You weren't supposed to have a good life. I was supposed to rescue you. Leo came into your life and ruined everything.” You were pissed off by this revelation. It can't be true he's bullshitting. “Stop fucking around Vil.” “I'm not messing around my dear. I never forgot about you nor my son. I love you [Y/N].” You were pissed off. He isn't telling you the truth, or at least the full truth. You were lost in your thoughts and anger that you failed to realize Vil getting closer. You snapped out of it as soon as you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he covered your mouth. With a cloth. It wasn't chloroform. He used something completely different. You passed out almost immediately. “We'll live happily as intended… just the three of us…” Those were the last words you heard before your consciousness slipped away. 
You will live as intended, happily with him. 
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bighimbogurl · 5 months
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Sugar daddy Jack who is filthy rich and powerful, with a lot of powerful connections, just so happens to have MC as his sugar baby/gold digger.
Ahhh~ I think sugar daddy Jack is one of my favorites ahh~~꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡
Warnings: agegap (MC is 19 and Jack is 35), forced relationship
Your life doesn't suck. You didn't grow up in poverty. You don't have any debts or loans you have to pay. Your life doesn't suck. You just want a life of luxury. Fancy cars, fancy bags, fancy clothes, sheets, and shoes. It's as simple as that. But apparently a trip to Mexico for lunch is too much to ask for.
It's how your last 5 relationships failed. Apparently a pink glittery Ferrari is too much to ask for! Apparently another chanel purse is just too far! Why is it so hard for them to understand that you're royalty? You can't live like the rest! You're built for better things!
And what's the best way to get better things than with a sugar daddy?
So you download 3 dating apps, set your age range to 35 and older and get to swiping. 3 weeks has passed of you dealing with scammers, liars, and creeps before you matched with someone exactly 35. You were put off at first, his user name is Sunny Day Jack. It didn't help that when he texted you first, his style was rather... animated. You thought guys his age would be more bland and stale?
3 weeks of bullshit has made you a little tired and bitter, you flat out tell him you're not here for games and you're not interested in a romantic relationship, you just want your money and that's it. And he was fine with it. Jack tells you he wants to spoil you, treat you like you should be treated, and that made you even more suspicious. You may be 19 but you're not stupid.
But you give it a try.
And you test him along the way. Many people say they can take care of you but ultimately fold in the end.
You both agree to meet at a fancy restaurant in your city. You dress up nice, do your hair, put on your favorite scent and drive yourself there in one of the cars your ex's bought for you. You thought he was a catfish, no one is that handsome, and when they are there's always something wrong with them. But you struggle to keep your mouth close when you see him.
Shiny blue suit and hair, despite the interesting color you can tell the quality is outstanding. Leather black shoes and yellow gloves, He sits at the best table in the room, next to a large window with a beautiful view of your city. His energy is serious and not like it is over text at all. He was cheerful, sweet and kinda boyish when he texted you, but now he's intimidating, serious and genuinely unamused with everyone around him. The waiter even trembles as they all argue on who will have to take his order.
That's is until he sees you. For a split second you two make eye contact you get a taste of the icy glare he must give everyone else, but as soon as the second is over his eyes widen and sparkle and he looks exactly like how you originally thought when you were talking to him.
You make sure to order every expensive item on the menu, from your actual meal to the champagne you drink and he never bats an eye. Even when your total and his combined come up to about 10,000 dollars he doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't even look at the waiter as he casually tossed his card. He's more focused on you, and that's how you like it. All you two talked about over dinner was you, you, you. When you told him you didn't find his work interesting at all he didn't seem to care in the slightest. You were told that it would be best to talk up a man and pretend to be interested if you wanted his money, but Jack seemed more relieved if anything. You didn't even hesitate when he asked you to come home with him.
You told him about your car you drove here in and he pats your head. "I'll call a chauffeur to take it to your house, don't worry at all sunshine." You don't exactly remember telling him your address, but you're too drunk on champagne and riches to even care.
The months you spent with Jack is a dream! He never says no to you! Whatever you want he gives. You once had 12 shopping sprees in one day and you didn't even have to beg. You asked him for 100,000 dollars and he handed it over like it was pocket change. Your friends say to be skeptical, especially since his demands are increasing. It's not like he's asking for a lot though! He just wants to approve of your friends before you can continue talking to them, he just wants you to ask permission before you speak to anyone besides him.
That's probably why your friends all magically stopped responding to you, they just couldn't keep up is all.
You did actually start to get suspicious when his demands ranged from you needing approval before you wore an outfit, to you needing approval to use the bathroom. You should've done some research, you should've been curious about his line of work. On the surface it's just a simple entertainment industry, but underneath are multiple drug rings and transportation of illegal weapons, he's fucking crazy. And you should've realized it sooner.
There is no way to escape. He tapped your phone. There's a tracking system built into your car- every one of them! Guards block the door at night, and there's no way your climbing out of a 36 story penthouse window. You can't talk to anyone, you have no friends except for the ones Jack approved of.
Despite your better judgement, you brought it up with Jack- but as a question. You asked him if there was ever a way he would stop paying you. Jack just laughs and pats your head, an act you used to find endearing. "You have nothing to worry about Sunshine, I could never stop loving you, there's nothing you could do that could break us up!"
You tried to remind Jack that this was just business, that you didn't have an interest in- "Shhh hush, why are you asking about this? Did you want me to buy you something? Aw, what did you want? Did you want another puppy?" You slam your hands down on his desk, tired of your problems being brushed off with money. Jack's sweet eyes then turn ice cold, like how you first saw him at the beginning of all this. He grabs you by the choker he gifted you, when you two were getting "serious", he put it.
"Sunshine, I love you, but I'm getting a little tired of this tantrum you're throwing. You're mine, you were since I first bought you. You're not getting out of this, who would you even go to? And who would even believe you?" He jerks you out his grip and you stumble back, his happy go lucky attitude returns. "Now, what kind of puppy did you want this time?"
Your lip trembles, who could you go to? The police? They can be bought too can't they? Were you really in the wrong? You just wanted a life of luxury! Is that so bad? You just wanted to be spoiled! But you should've known better...there's always something wrong with them.
You tell him what kind of dog you want.
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unmotivatedwrit3r · 5 months
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One in Eleven Million (ch. 6)
damian wayne x reader x jon kent
(A/N): So I think this ends up being ten chapters? I'll try to post more frequently; I've tortured you all long enough haha. Though I'm hoping to get a couple different things out in the next couple of weeks, so you'll get more from me, just not always of this.
As always, masterlist linked here.
warnings: air travel, turbulence
wc: ~1300
~~
Damian turned from where he was watching you continue your project to face Jon. He pulled off his zip up sweater, tugging down the sleeve of his long sleeved shirt to hide the bandages Jon did at the hotel earlier in the morning, before passing it over to Jon. 
“Here.” Damian nudged him. “For the sunglasses.” 
Though he could feel your eyes on the back of his neck, Damian ignored you for now, taking his sunglasses back from Jon’s outstretched hand. In the corner, Jon curled into a ball, head tilted against the wall and face buried in Damian’s sweatshirt. Damian watched him for a moment, chest tight. No matter how many times he’d been through this with Jon, it didn’t get easier seeing him in pain. Jon flicked him a thumbs up and Damian relaxed, turning back to you. Overhead, the safety announcement came to a close. 
“He’s okay?” You asked, eyes fixed on Jon. Your arms, already wrapped around yourself, tightened. Damian nodded, eyes straying back to his left for just a moment before returning to you. 
“He will be, once we get up in the air and away from the chaos of the airport.” He tipped his chin at the project left abandoned in your lap. “How long have you been doing that?” 
“Oh a couple of years maybe? I’m not sure exactly. Do you,” you hesitated. “Do you do some kind of art? And you read Arabic, right? I saw the book you were reading last night.” Damian’s eyes scanned your face. You looked nervous, though genuine, and he found himself not minding the questions. It felt more like curiosity than idle small talk. He hated small talk.
“I do. And speak it.” Your eyes lit up. 
“Cool,” you breathed, smiling. “I’m not great at languages but I would like to be fluent in a few one day. And art?” 
“I draw,” Damian revealed. “And paint.” He fought to keep from mirroring your smile.
“That’s awesome. I write a little bit, but only as a hobby.”  
“Really? About what?” He asked genuinely. 
“Whatever I get motivation for I guess? I wish I had a better answer but I just like it.” 
“Doing things for liking them is an answer.” Damian could almost see you mulling the words around in your head. He took the moment to observe your features up close: beautiful eyes and an unexpectedly striking smile. 
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 
“I know.” 
Your startled laugh tore the last of his self restraint down. Damian’s face split into a grin.
The two of you spent the next while talking about everything and anything. You shared your reasons for being on the plane at all, your favorite color, your other hobbies. In turn, he showed you pictures of his art, his cat and dog, and gorgeous shots of Gotham at sunrise. He had a lot of pictures of him and a brown man with shaggy dark hair and bright blue eyes. In the recent pictures, Damian began to overtake him in height. “My oldest brother,” Damian offered when you asked. 
“You’re the youngest?” He nodded. 
“Of several. I am one of the tallest, though.” 
“Oh boy,” you laughed. “I bet your older siblings hate that.” 
“They do.” 
And then there were the pictures of Jon. Jon by himself or with Damian’s pets, Jon captured in Damian’s art, and Damian and Jon together. 
“Where was this?” You asked. In the picture, Damian was standing on a pathway covered in a dusting of snow, bundled up and on crutches. Jon, in a blue zip-up and jeans, was making a snow angel on the ground in much deeper snow beside him. 
“A few winters ago. In Gotham.” 
“I remember that snowfall” You thought back to the remnants of a Mr. Freeze plot. Following Batman’s intervention, all that was left was a snowy cold front. “But mostly I stayed inside and caught up on work during the snow day. And watched too much TV.” Damian huffed a laugh. 
On his other side, small snores emanated from the pile of denim and red fabric. Jon didn’t wake when the flight attendant came around with snacks. Damian accepted Jon’s pretzels for him.
“How long have you two known each other?” You asked, some time in. Damian looked over at Jon. The lights in the cabin were dim, and both boys were bathed in shadow. 
“A decade or so, now,” he said. Then, a little quieter. “He’s my best friend.” 
“You’re a good friend Damian.” Your eyes followed his over to Jon. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him, all 6ft something curled up in an economy airplane seat. “He’s lucky to have you.“And I know I don’t know you guys that well but I can tell he’s a good person. And that you’re lucky to have him too.” 
Damian didn’t argue. 
“I am.” 
Two hours in, Jon stirred, pushing the hood off his head and blinking slowly. 
“Hey,” he mumbled. Your breath caught unwittingly in your throat. Jon’s voice was rough and his hair was mussed from where it had been smushed underneath his hoodie. You curled your fingers into your palms, resisting the urge to push back a curl that had dropped onto his forehead. Jon rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes, dislodging his glasses. “Did I fall asleep?” 
“Morning,” you managed. Some part of you was surprised you managed to get out any words at all, much less in a tone that wouldn’t pass for a squeal. 
Damian took his sweatshirt back from Jon’s offering hand. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” he said, attempting to stretch while crammed in a seat with no legroom. You just watched, chest squeezing pleasantly. Damian was watching similarly. What am I doing? You wondered to yourself. He’s not yours, neither of them are. 
“You needed the sleep,” Damian said beside you. Jon snorted out a laugh. 
“Thanks Dames,” he said dryly. 
“Always.” 
You wrenched your attention away from the boys, turning your phone over in between your hands. It was too late, you knew. You were already attached. But this was a plane, a vehicle to get you from place to place. There was no reason they would be any different, just a passing point in your life. Selfishly, you hoped they might be more. 
A tap on your shoulder from Damian brought you back into the conversation. 
“Huh?” Two sets of concerned eyes were watching you carefully. Your eyes met green then blue for only a moment. “What’s up? I zoned out for a moment, sorry. Tired.” 
Damian looked like he wanted to argue with you. You hoped he wouldn’t; you might have only met him the day before, but you had a feeling he’d figure it out anyway. 
“Do you know how far we are?” Jon asked instead. 
“Oh sure I can check that one sec.” You opened the airline map on your phone. “About an hour and a half away.” The little airplane icon on your phone screen placed the plane somewhere above the Chicago area. “See?” 
“Oh that’s cool!” Jon said to Damian, taking the device from you. “Kinda looks like the thing your dad has for my dad.” There was context you were missing, you assumed. Damian huffed a laugh. 
“It’s a similar technology.” 
“What do your dads do?” You asked them. 
“He’s a journalist,” Jon offered. 
“Businessman.” Damian’s lips quirked up. “Family business.” 
That did not clear it up for you whatsoever. You snapped your mouth shut on any follow-up questions at the jump of turbulence. Your shoulders stiffened instinctively for a moment before you relaxed back into your seat. This wasn’t your first batch of turbulence and it probably wouldn’t be your last. Damian didn’t seem shaken. Jon, though, looked terrified, one hand gripping Damian’s wrist and the other tapping furiously against his thigh. 
“Is this normal? On commercial planes?” 
“Sometimes,” Damian assured. “The pilot warned of turbulence earlier.” 
“They usually come over the loudspeaker when it happens, just to reassure people.” 
Your prediction came true with a crackle of the intercom. 
“Just an average bit of turbulence folks. All numbers are still in the green, so no need to worry. As a precaution, the seatbelt signs are going back on so please stay seated if possible.” 
The pilot’s voice seemed to reassure Jon. You, for one, were tired of hearing it.
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rillils · 2 months
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i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes
think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him
FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭
It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.
The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.
The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.
It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.
“Steve?”
His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.
He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.
“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”
“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.
The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.
He can never make this better.
“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.
“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”
Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–
blood
– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–
he fell
– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–
blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall
– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.
Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.
“You left me here.”
Steve can’t breathe.
“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”
Steve can’t breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”
Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.
“Why didn’t you look for me?”
He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.
“Did I mean so little to you?”
Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.
Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”
It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.
“You could have sent me home to my folks.”
It burns.
“To my sisters.”
It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.
“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”
Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”
“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”
“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”
Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.
“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”
Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.
“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”
His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.
If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–
“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”
The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.
“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.
“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”
Hell. This is Hell.
“Because of you.”
This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.
“It was always because of you.”
Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.
“Bucky...”
The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.
But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.
“Please, Buck... please...”
Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.
“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.
“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”
Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.
“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”
It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.
“Why didn’t you look for me?”
The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–
“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”
-
Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.
“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”
His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.
“Steve.”
Where was he?
The mountains–
“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”
His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.
“Come back to me, baby.”
The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.
“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”
A flicker of white–
– snow–
– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.
“Can you look at me? Steve.”
He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.
“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”
There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.
Steve swallowed.
“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”
It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.
“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.
Bucky–
Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.
You left me behind and they took me.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”
Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.
Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.
They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.
The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.
“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.
“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”
“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”
Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.
“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”
Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.
“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.
What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.
Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...
“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”
It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.
Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.
“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.
Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”
Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.
“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”
Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.
Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.
If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.
“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”
His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.
“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.
“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.
“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”
He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.
“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”
He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.
The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.
“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”
“Please,” Steve whimpered.
Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”
The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.
Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.
“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”
Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.
It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.
57 notes · View notes
redcoralpot · 3 months
Text
Smudged (5)
Summary: Rodrick lives up to his side of the deal, or should I say, community service.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1K
A/N: Okay, so, this wasn't all that was planned for this chapter. Buttt I felt really rushed and hadn't updated this fic in a little over a month. I'll edit this with the rest of the chapter when I get to it, but for now, it's being put to rest indefinitely. Thank you for the support!
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The next day, your best friend arrived in English early, much to your surprise. Daniel tossed a notebook onto your desk, slouching in his seat as if he were a drunk, divorced father. You took it into your hand, reading the messily written label, before looking up at the sorrowful boy in front of you. The pages were filled to the brim with outlines, sketches, and ideas; some pictures were lightly colored in.
“I see you’ve been busy,” you quipped.
Daniel hissed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, “This prompt is crap! I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to do this.”
“You’re thinking too hard about it, Dan.” You pass it back to him, fingers tapping the wooden desk.
“That’s easy for you to say,” he ranted, “you just have drums!”
“I’d rather have the guitar.”
He rubbed his temples, “Not my point. Can’t you come with me tonight to take pictures?”
“In the forest? Dude, that’s every horror movie plot,” you scoffed, watching other students file in.
They sat in their seats or hopped on desks, with one girl rudely scooting on Daniel’s, “I know, that’s why I want you to come with me. I need photos for the presentation board!”
“I dunno if I can, I’m supposed to be going to Rodrick’s house tonight.”
“Since when did you start hanging out with him?”
“Since the need for a decent grade.”
Ms. Kawiti was the last to stroll inside, setting her bag on the table in the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat, and caused all chatter to cease, including your conversation with Daniel. Your best friend grumbled, turning back around, attempting to dodge the long hair intruding in his personal space. The girl herself reluctantly returned to her own place, sharing a few final giggles with her group. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed and feet perched underneath your desk on a metal bar. There were other boys around the class doing the same, and you adjusted yourself to make the position more comfortable. Why did time have to go so slow when fun is on the other side? 
On just another thing you were better than Rodrick at, you did not break any personal property when parking outside his house. Your shoes clacked against the concrete driveway, purple laces swinging, only stopping to knock on the door. The person who answered was not Rodrick, no, but a much older woman with a professional-looking outfit and brown hair to match. She looked so strikingly different from the drummer you knew that you almost backed away, apologizing for coming to the wrong house. Almost. 
“Excuse me, ma’am, is this the Heffley family’s house?”
She seemed taken aback, almost wary as she took in your appearance, “Yes, are you one of Rodrick’s… bandmates?”
“Uh, no, I’m Heather’s brother. He invited me over for research,” you shrugged.
“Rodrick and research?” Mrs. Heffley cocked an eyebrow up, slightly stepping back to allow you inside.
You waved your hands, and said, “I know, absolutely unbelievable! However, I can assure you that I’m telling the truth– he brought home some books.”
“And I read it, duh,” a voice called from above.
Rodrick, the devil, hung his head over the overhead railing. He cocked his head at you, sneering. Mrs. Heffley shook her head, sighed, and walked into a separate room beside you; there wasn’t any attention on her anymore. Rodrick motioned for you to come up the stairs, before disappearing again.
His voice echoed, “C’mon, my room’s the coolest here!”
For a split second, you hesitated. You glanced back to where Mrs. Heffley had disappeared, unsure of whether it was appropriate to leave your shoes on and make a mess of the house. Just to be safe, you set them neatly beside the door, before following the other boy up the stairs.
When you finally arrived, Rodrick had already vanished once again. There were multiple doors running down the hallway, but the only hint as to the correct one was the faint sound of guitar riffs. It almost sounded like it was coming from above you, though you decided to peek into the closest unlocked door. This room wasn’t even a bedroom; it was simply a small bathroom meant for one or two people. There was a bit of a smell inside, like someone hadn't flushed the toilet. Hell, as curious as you were, you weren’t going to confirm that.
You barely could close the door before a finger tapped your shoulder, and you flinched, turning around– it was just Greg. The little boy was Rodrick’s unlucky younger brother, who was at least a head shorter than you. He seemed nicer than your acquaintance, and it really made you wonder how the two of them were raised in the same household. Perhaps Rodrick was adopted? Nah. Greg was studying you with a standoffish look in his eyes, the kind kids get when they meet strange family friends. You weren’t surprised; your looks were far from the typical suburban rich boy.
“His room’s in the attic,” Greg said, plainly, “Last door.”
He scurried off to do his own things, possibly to bug his mother about the newest Nintendo game. There was no last door on the left, only a wall that held an uncharacteristically peaceful family photo. Rodrick was still Rodrick, just younger, with devilish messy hair and dirt under his nails. On the right, however, there was a slightly ominous wooden door. In direct contrast to the opposite wall, the door had a sign that read Rodrick Only. It was so childishly Rodrick that you couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath. 
One knock, two knock, three knock. The music coming from above grew ever so slightly quieter, and you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the attic stairs. It opened, only to an unimpressed drummer.
“Dude, aren’t you coming?” He frowned.
 You shrugged, pointing to the sign, “I’m not allowed in. It’s Rodrick only, remember?”
Said boy rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re the exception.”
“The exception?”
“An exception,” he corrected himself.
You pushed past him, clambering up the stairs, “Whatever you say, dick.”
“Weirdo.”
Rodrick’s room was, to put it nicely, a mess. His bed was undone, random magazines poked out from under his mattress, and you honestly couldn’t tell if the jeans hanging on the railing were dirty or clean. Three, conjoined windows were the only source of natural light, and you swore you could see a spider web hanging off the sill. Posters and grimy t-shirts were plastered all over the walls and ceiling; you doubted any space was left untouched. Rodrick’s drum set sat in the corner, shining like it was brand new.
He was shuffling through a bookshelf behind you, containing almost everything but books themselves, much to your amusement. Rodrick must have seen the quirk of your lips when he managed to pull a thin, perfectly packaged music book from its depths, as his eyes narrowed when he turned to face you. 
“This is for the bare basics of drumming, it should cover all that mechanical stuff you have in your outline,” he shrugged.
“You actually read that?”
Rodrick’s gaze flicked towards you, unsure, before his chest puffed up obnoxiously, “Duh, what kinda guy do you take me for?”
“I’m not gonna answer that.”
“You’re just too scared to admit that I’m awesome!”
You mumbled, “You’re delusional.”
“Aha! I knew it!”
“If you know so much,” you tapped the cymbal, “give me what I’m here for.”
The 
Rodrick groaned, “You’re such a party pooper sometimes.”
“Ironic.”
He swiped the drumsticks from the seat and pointed them at you threateningly, like an annoyed teacher, “Shh.”
Rodrick used the sticks to point out each individual drum part, explaining the noise they make and how he uses them in his band. You scratched your nose while he rambled on, not feeling in the mood to tell him you knew this already. It was only when he started back on the ego talk that your attention drifted to other parts of his room, to all the little details. There was a large poster of a woman holding a dark colored guitar, her hair swept back in a 90’s hairstyle that most definitely wouldn’t be possible without layers upon layers of spray. She had eyeliner smudged across her eyelids, but they had a cleaner edge than Rodrick’s attempts; quite similar to yours. Rodrick was now doing light taps to 4-4 time, nodding his head to the rhythm, eyes closed. 
The fan in the opposite corner was making the glossed pages under his mattress flutter and loosen from where they were hidden. If you squinted your eyes, you could just barely make out a part of the photo– were those biceps? If you shuffled a bit to the right, you could pull it out enough that it would flutter out on its own, and that it did. Hell, Rodrick was too busy rocking out on the drums to hear your suspicions being confirmed.
You wouldn’t be surprised if Rodrick had a magazine full of half naked women hanging around somewhere; it was Rodrick, after all. However, one full of shirtless men? That was out of character for the self proclaimed womanizer. For a moment, you thought about telling him that you knew about his stash, but quickly dismissed it. You couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that would be for someone, even an asshole as shameless as him! Besides, who knows how insulated the walls of this house are, right? You bit your tongue, humming along to Rodrick’s music as he made a dramatic finish to the song.
“I was starting to worry I wasn’t keeping your attention there,” he chuckled to himself.
You tilted your head, “I just got lost in the beat, you know how it is.”
“That I do, dude. Was that all you needed?”
“Bingo, you were super useful.”
He grinned, “I’m always helpful! You could literally just ask Gregory his opinion on it, I taught him all about how to survive middle school.”
“The harshest environment, I’m aware.” You stood up.
“Okay,” he sensed the sarcasm in your tone, “you’re banned. Get out.”
“I’m going, I’m going, don’t get your panties in a twist!”
You ran down the stairs, hearing him cackling the whole way down. Rodrick was funny sometimes, you had to give him that. Maybe these next few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
-
89 notes · View notes
chiptaylorsfirst · 2 years
Text
What He's Thinking About
Word Count: 2,905
Pairing: soft!dom!Charles Xavier x mutant!fem!sub!Reader
Warning: Slight pain kink, fingering, choking, mirror sex, smut, professor kink, pet names, a little hair pulling
Summary: You get a little touchy and flirty during your training with Charles. While he does his best not to show his feelings or emotions, you can't help but to feel the lust growing in him.
A/N: This was meant to be a James McAvoy fic but my fingers just typed the first thing that flew in my mind and I carried on with it. Hope you guys enjoy it. Please send me requests. I'll do James McAvoy, Tom Hiddleston, and Matthew Gray Gubler. This goes for their characters also. Enjoy your day, evening, or night.
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You woke up to your alarm clock, already exhausted before the day even truly began. It was 10 o'clock and you had thirty minutes exactly to get ready for training. You all were to work in pairs. Raven worked with Hank, Havok with Angel, Magneto worked with Darwin, and you with Charles. Once you were finally ready, you went outside in the yard as Charles had asked. "Good morning everyone. Today we will be working on your powers along with our usual workout routine. We will work one hour on our powers and another on physical workouts." Everyone understood, already leaving to their partners to practice with. You heard Charles' footsteps behind you and smiled as you were greeted with his pretty blue eyes.
"Which one would you like to do first?" Your eyes lingered on him a little too long and you tried to control your thoughts. You didn't want him to know about how much you you were obsessed with him. "Physical stuff." You lifted weights for a while then let Charles do it as well. You and Charles jogged some miles and then you fought. Charles was just as good as you since he started training more for it. His stamina had increased some and he was stronger. You blocked his attacks well and delivered a few hits in the process. He caught one of your fists and flipped you on the ground. He then pinned you down by your wrists. You became aroused and you felt that his emotions were the same. You reversed your place, now flipping him onto the ground. You slightly straddled him and smirked.
"You lose, Xavier." He chuckled underneath you. "I let you win. Your skills are pretty impressive though." You placed a kiss on his neck. "A token of gratitude from me to you," you said playfully. You saw his blue eyes darken for a split second but instantly turn back to their original color. You both did the training for your powers next but it had been kind of awkward from your last encounter. It was fresh in both of your minds but neither one of you would mention it to the other. You all went to your quarters after the two hours of training was completed. You showered and threw on your robe afterwards. You jumped into your bed, relaxing almost immediately.
You felt a strong sensation of lust and arousal. You tried to fight it off but you couldn't. You realized it wasn't coming from you and immediately knew that it was from Charles. You decided not to try and locate him but to talk to him through his mind. I can feel your attraction, Charles. What are you thinking about? Having sex with you. You felt your blood rush straight down and your cunt was instantly wet. Have I made you uncomfortable? His voice sounded worried and was filled with concern. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable or be upset with him for telling the truth. No, you just made me very turned on and happy that I'm not wearing underwear. His voice chuckled in your mind and you no longer heard his voice speak in your head. You heard a knock on your door.
"Y/N," he called out. You quickly opened the door and made sure it was locked as soon as he came in. He pinned you against the door and kissed you. The kiss was passionate, lust filled, and full of teeth and tongue. You bit his bottom lip and he moaned in return. He pulled on your hair and your fingers tangled through his as you let him dominate the kiss. He pulled back from you, a smile on his face. "I've wanted to do that for so long." You toyed with his shirt. "How long exactly?" He looked into space, putting thought into the question. "About five months now. I wanted to tell you but we were so busy with missions , saving the world, and finding mutants that I couldn't find the right time to." You kissed his cheek. "Well this certainly is a good time." You grabbed his hand and led him to your bed. You sat down, waiting to see what he would do.
He stripped himself of his clothing, creating a neat pile on the floor. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. His body was beautiful. His abs, muscles, and torso were all lean. His cock was long with just the right girth. It was neatly trimmed and the tip was pink. "So that's what you've been hiding under all of those layers of clothing," you said aloud. "Mhm, you like what you see?" You got off of the bed and walked towards him. "Like would be a large understatement." He touched the cloth of your robe and tugged at it gently. "May I?" "You may." He undid the tie of your robe and took it off of your body. Your robe dropped to the ground and you were fully naked in front of him. His eyes scanned your body for a little while and he licked his suddenly dry lips. "Fuck, you're gorgeous." He picked you up and placed you on the bed.
"Are you sure you want to do this? Once I get started, I don't know if I can stop." "I'm very sure," you responded confidently. You were never more sure of anything in your life. He placed kisses on your neck and your collarbone, nibbling it also. You let out a soft moan. He read your mind to find your sweet spot and placed a hickey there. "Cheater," you breathed out quietly. Charles chuckled against your skin. "There are no rules to this. I am allowed to do what I please with you, aren't I?" He was taunting you. He knew he could have read your mind but he decided against it. He wanted you to say it. "Yes." He slid one of his fingers in your core. "Yes what?" "Yes, professor," you said breathily. He placed another finger in and curled them. "You're so wet. Tell me, did I do this to you?" "Yes." His fingers started to move in you. You moaned softly at the feeling of it.
His eyes were darker, just as they had been when you pinned him. He studied your reactions, a smirk on his face. "I need you to look at me." You did as he asked, a moan slipping past your lips as soon as you did it. The sight was so erotic and explicit. This beautiful man was moving his fingers in and out of you and looking into your eyes as he did it. "Professor," you moaned out. "I love those noises you make. It drives me insane." His fingers went deeper, touching that spot no one could ever reach inside you. "Charles, mm, fuck." His fingers went faster. "Yes, sweetheart?" A string of moans came out of your mouth as you felt that knot in your stomach. "I'm cl-close." "Let it go then. Cum for me." A large moan tore from your lungs and your essence gushed out. He took his fingers from you and licked them clean.
"You probably just alerted half of the team," he whispered. "Your fault you're so good." He giggled at that. "Honestly, you'd be surprised at how much that turned me on." He took your hand in his and let you touch his hard cock. You could feel the veins and you collected the pre cum from the tip. You sucked it off your fingers and looked up at him. "Mm, professor you taste so good." He lightly choked you then nibbled your earlobe. He lifted you up and carried you. He grabbed the key to your room before closing your door. "Charles, where are we going?" "Somewhere with more space." He continued walking throughout different halls. "What if someone sees us?" "They can't. I'm controlling it." Your legs were wrapped tightly on his waist and your arms were around his neck. "Why do we need more space?" "You'll see." By the smirk that was on his face, you knew it would be something fun and exciting but you didn't know what.
You could feel that his emotions were alike to yours, arousal and excitement. He walked into his library and you looked at him confused. He read your mind. Not in the library, no. That's for another day. You looked at him surprised, now wondering what day it was for. "You mean this isn't a one time thing?" He frowned at your question. "Of course not. I love you and I want a relationship with you forever. I don't plan on just fucking you then leaving." You looked into his eyes. "I love you too, Charles. I mean, I really do. But, when are we going to you know in the library." He chuckled at you then kissed you. The kiss was tender and loving. His tongue slipped in your mouth and it wasn't a fight for control, just a loving expression. "Mm, it's a surprise." He continued carrying you. You both were at the back of the library when he unlocked a door. He closed it behind him and smiled. "This is the room," he stated.
There was a large couch in the room as well as a carpeted floor. It was a mirror room but not like at carnivals. It only consisted of five mirrors. There was a mirror for each side of the couch. One in the front, one in the back, one on the left, and one on the right. The other mirror was on the ceiling above the couch and it was the same size of it. "How many people have you brought here, Charles?" "Only you." He placed your body on the couch and smiled. He went to a drawer that was also in the room and pulled out two condoms. He walked over to you and placed one on the side of the couch. "Are you ready?" "Yes." He slipped the condom on his length and got on top of you. He slipped inside of you and the both of you moaned at the feeling. "I want you either looking at me or into a mirror." You did as he asked and looked into the ceiling mirror. You wrapped your legs around his waist.
He started at a medium pace, making sure his thrusts were sharp and deep. He placed a few hickies on your neck, making you moan a bit louder. You scratched his back and groans spilled from his mouth. "Fuck, Y/N." His eyes were on your face. You liked that you could see his back muscles in the ceiling mirror and it kind of turned you on. He hit your g spot repeatedly and your back arched from the couch. Scratch marks were developing on his back as he continued fucking into you. Your toes curled as he went faster. "Mm, professor, yes." He let out more moans, grunts, and groans at the sound of your voice. He placed your legs on his shoulders and went at a faster pace. You could feel him in your stomach and you loved the angle. You saw stars and your eyes were starting to tear from the pleasure. "You look so beautiful like this, taking my cock so well." "Mm, Charles. I'm," you started. He went impossibly faster. "I know, sweetheart. Go ahead and let go for me. Just let go." He punctuated his thrusts for his last sentence and he covered your mouth.
Your muffled moans were music to his ears and you felt his cock twitch. His voice let out guttural moans and it was now rugged. His cum shot out from his cock and he removed the condom. He grabbed the other one and slipped it on himself once again then turned to you. He looked into the mirror at his back and sighed. "Damn, you really enjoyed it." Your face was flushed as you nodded your head. "Couldn't help myself." He walked over to you again but didn't get on top of you. "I want you to ride me, okay?" You got up and let him lay on the couch. He looked so gorgeous. His hair was messy and slightly damp from sweat. His face was red and flushed almost like yours. His eyes were still that darker blue. You lowered onto him and let out moans at the feeling of his cock. You started a slow pace and he followed the rhythm that you set. You opted to look at him instead of the mirror. You were met with his blue eyes looking at you. You placed hickies on his neck, enjoying his moans that he let out. He made it obvious that he was still in charge although he was underneath you.
His nails dug into your hips as you bounced on him at a faster pace. He removed his hands from you and started to twirl your nipples. More moans spilled from your mouth. Your nails raked along his chest and he let out a long moan. "Mm, Charles, mmm." His hands were back on your hips, keeping you from losing your balance. You were slowly approaching your high and you decided to lose yourself all the way. You went as fast as you could and you felt Charles rutting into you. "Fuck, you're so good," he breathed out. His hand wrapped around your neck and he applied a little bit of pressure. You continued and your body jolted. "Who do you belong to?" You moaned out. "You, professor, mm." He hugged your body and pulled you closer to him. "You belong to who?" He bucked into you faster and you bit his shoulder. "Charles Xavier, mmm ugh." Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and he sat up. "Cum with me, sweetheart." You bit into his shoulder as you came and he followed suit. You crawled off of him, whimpering at the loss of contact.
He got off of the couch and threw away the used condoms. He then sighed as he saw your tired body and the mess you made on the couch. He lifted you up and your legs wrapped around him. "Was that fun for you?" "Mhm," you responded. "I think you like pain, Charles." He walked out of the room and into the library, already creating his illusion. "I do but only when it's from you." He walked into the hallway. "So I'm your special girl?" "Most definitely, and no one else." You smiled to yourself at the statement. "What will we tell the others?" "I guess that we are now dating and in a relationship. It really isn't that complicated," he responded. "Where do you want to go." You thought for a second. "Can we go to the beach or something?" "I have just the spot in mind." He carried you through the halls until he met your door. He unlocked it then opened it.
He placed your body on your bed and came back with a wet cloth to clean you. He then cleaned himself and smiled as he looked at you. He placed the key to the mirror room on your dresser. "This is the key to the mirror room for whenever you want to go there again and I will give it to you as soon as I clean the couch." He placed a kiss on your forehead and collected his clothes from your bedroom floor. "Okay, but please come back after you're done. You are my boyfriend now, remember?" "Yes, and I'm never forgetting. I'll be back. I promise." After a few minutes, you were met with a knock on your door again. "Charles, is that you," you responded. You heard a small pause and you concentrated on using your power. Whoever was outside of the door felt surprised and confused. "No, I'm just here to tell you that dinner's ready," Raven said. "Not to intrude, but do you and Charles have something going on?" You sighed at the question.
You walked to the door and cracked it open just so she could see your face. "I'm not supposed to tell you this until tomorrow but me and him are dating now." She quietly giggled. "So you two are a thing?" You rolled your eyes at the statement. "Gosh, we sound like middle schoolers. Yes, we're together and please don't tell anyone. I don't want him upset." She smiled at you. "I won't. See you at dinner." "You too." You shut the door and went through your drawers for clothing. You heard a knock on your door and sighed. "Yes?" "Can I come in?" You heard Charles' voice and you opened the door for him. "What happened?"
This time he had clothes on and he closed the door behind him. He placed the key to the mirror room on your dresser and sat on the bed. "Raven came to tell me that dinner's ready and she wants us to go." He sighed at your statement. "Okay, dinner then we go to the special place I wanted to show you." You kissed him briefly and smiled. "Sounds like a deal." The plan followed out smoothly and once your relationship was announced, everyone was supportive and congratulated you. You were happy to have Charles and he was happy to have you.
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a-weird-cryptid · 1 year
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Exactly one week ago, I visited France for a day. I'm extremely bad at French, even though I've been learning it in school for 4 years by now. But when I saw this comic, I immediately fell in love with it and I just HAD to buy it.
So here's a little review of the graphic novel so far!
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The art style is simple, yet gorgeous and really effective at expressing what's going on. And the colors are extremely vibrant, working together to create a wonderful harmony. Page one alone is a good example for that.
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The story is, without spoilering too much, about a teenage girl going to a new high school, while struggling with mental health issues. Said, can be interpreted as undiagnosed DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). It shows real life issues and scenarios that people with this rare dissociative disorder can find themselves in. And it does that in a very simple and easy to understand way as well. (The fact that they used the main character's hair to be able to seperated the different alters by just looking at them helps a lot as well. Though canonically in the story they of course don't change) Even in French. But I think this comic is also available in English.
I really like to see that something like DID finally has some representation outside of movies like "Split". And I'd love to see more good representation like this comic. Because representation matters!
I can't objectively judge how accurate this representation is, though, since I'm not in a position to do so. But based of my own research, it's so far pretty realistic.
I'm about half way through it (no spoilers please!) and I'll prob review the second half when I'm done reading the comic. So far, these are my fav panels/pages.
(Little spoiler warning of course)
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For anyone's who's interested about learning more about DID or mental health in general:
I can highly recommend watching Sci Show Psych, Patrick Teahan LICSW and, for German speakers, psychologeek. All of which can be found on YouTube and partly even other social medias.
And of course, reading scientific papers (using Google's filter option) about those topics or even the DSM-5 (which can be downloaded for free on the internet) can never hurt. Just make sure to use good and reliable source. And always be a bit sceptic when reading things on the internet.
Edit/Update (though I might include this since this post is still getting likes, etc): The second volume of Elles seems to be, from what I've heard, pretty misinformative about DID. For more on this, see this ask I answered.
For more reviews, discussions, original stories/series and more, check out my master list of series.
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sayosdreams · 3 months
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Picture Us (Together Forever)
Word Count: 26,115
ACOTAR masterlist
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TW: mentioned past homelessness, mentioned past abuse, referenced death & suicide
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A/N: For @simpingfornestaarcheron, one year late. A huge thank you to @bookstantrash for all your help with everything from brainstorming to beta reading and editing! You're the reason I actually managed to complete this fic. Credit @vidalinav for the 'Cassian's love is loud' concept, which is so ingrained in his character for me that I always end up including it.
I know I haven't posted anything for over a year and a half — I've been busy with college and have gotten into other fandoms — but I hope this long, fluffy fic makes up for my absence. Honestly, it's probably the fluffiest thing I'll ever write of this length. Also, the number of blocks in this post exceeded the Tumblr post limit, so I edited the paragraph layout to fit. The original version is posted on ao3. Please enjoy!
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Present day
“Hey, sorry I got a little late,” Nesta announced as she stepped into the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, Cassian. “I got held up at work because some people apparently think my job is to do everything,” she explained as she took off her coat and undid her scarf. “Eris now seems to believe that I’m a secretary and that it’s my job to deal with all the parents who want to sign their kids up for lessons or have questions about our hours. Can you believe that Vassa expects me to cover Eris’ class next Tuesday during my lunch break because he ‘has to be out of town to go apple picking’? And then, to top it off, Briallyn came to talk to me about how some people want the rehearsals for The Firebird to be at a different time. Just because I’m one of the principal dancers doesn’t mean I coordinate the rehearsal times! I don’t know why she doesn’t just talk to the director or choreographer, honestly. It’s so-”
Nesta turned around and fell silent, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. The living room was decorated with candles and flowers. Rose petals were lined up on the floor, creating a walkway that led to the coffee table, which was covered in a white tablecloth. Behind the table stood Cassian, wearing a wine-red colored button-down shirt, black pants, and a soft smile. 
“Cassian?” she asked, her confusion evident in her tone. Had she forgotten some important occasion? Nesta quickly ran through the list in her head. But, no, it wasn’t either of their birthdays, or their anniversary, or Valentine’s Day… So why had Cassian done all this? Sure, he had given her flowers ‘just because’ or organized impromptu date nights before, but this was on a whole different level. “What’s going on?”
Cassian’s grin split into an open-toothed smile, even as intensity and slight nervousness swam in his eyes. “Nesta, we met five years ago in the line for tickets to the Bone Carver concert, when you yelled at me for letting my friends cut the line. I turned around to yell right back, and the moment I did, my life changed. You’ve made my life so much better, in so many ways I can’t even find the words to describe. Every day with you is like a dream come true. We’ve made so many fantastic memories together over the years.”
He pulled the tablecloth off the coffee table in a sweeping motion. Nesta inhaled sharply as she took in the collection of polaroid pictures, recalling different special moments in their relationship. The collection was decorated with small doodles that Cassian had clearly drawn himself. 
She sank down to her knees in front of the table. 
“Cassian…” Nesta whispered, “This is beautiful.” 
Her eyes drifted across the paper, until they came to rest on a single photo. Her hand reached out as if she wanted to caress the image, but floated just a hair’s breadth away from it like it was too precious to bear her touch. 
Cassian kneeled down too, and glanced down at the photo she was looking at. He laughed, “Oh, yes. The bookstore date, where you used me as a human bookshelf.”
The corners of Nesta’s lips turned up. “Listen, I just wanted you to know what you were really signing up for.”
Cassian chuckled.
__________
Five years ago
“Where are you taking me?” Nesta asked for the sixth time. 
Cassian once again responded by shushing her, his eyes fixed on the road. 
Nesta sighed. Cassian had somehow managed to drive without using a GPS (a novel feat for him) so she couldn’t even peek at it to figure out their destination. Cassian clearly hadn’t considered how impatient Nesta was when he’d decided to plan a surprise for her. 
Nesta knew she should just sit back in her seat, relax, and enjoy whatever Cassian wanted to surprise her with, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited — of course she was, and she was touched that Cassian had gone through all this effort just to plan a surprise for her. But Nesta couldn’t help but be filled with anxiety. She didn’t always react well to situations she was thrust into unexpectedly, and she wished she at least had a hint about where they were going so that she could prepare accordingly. She didn’t want to start freaking out and push Cassian away, destroying the tentative relationship they had just started to build. 
She trusted Cassian and knew he’d never intentionally put her in a situation that made her uncomfortable. They had met about three months ago and he’d asked her out soon after. Although they hadn’t made anything official yet, Cassian was always so caring and kind to her, more than any of her exes. He always made her laugh and brought her Earl Grey tea with just the right amount of 2% milk. He’d given her his scarf when he’d noticed that she was cold and had never asked for it back. He loved to play with her hair, creating intricate braids as his hands tenderly massaged her head. His body was honed from ice hockey training and he towered over her, and yet he had never once made her nervous or uncomfortable, even when they had been two strangers arguing in line. 
Still, there were many things that Nesta had yet to tell Cassian about. While his gentle sweetness was making her walls come down, bit by bit, she was struggling to open up fully. She didn’t want to risk scaring him away and ruining everything they’d created. 
All in all, she knew Cassian would never try to make her uncomfortable, but there were many things that could set her off that he didn’t know about. If she started freaking out, and she lost him… It was stupid of her to get so attached to someone so quickly. He wasn’t even her boyfriend, for gods’ sake! Only her closest friends knew they were together. They weren’t keeping their relationship a secret, exactly, but telling everyone would put pressure on their relationship that they weren’t ready for. 
Cassian’s best friend, Rhysand, was dating Nesta’s youngest sister, Feyre. The two of them had met on a dating app called Bond a couple weeks after Nesta and Cassian’s encounter. They’d fallen head over heels in love with each other, and had moved in together after just one month. Feyre kept texting the Archeron sisters’ group chat about how much she loved Rhys and how she wanted to marry him. 
Nesta and Cassian needed to take their relationship at their own pace — meaning much, much slower than Feyre and Rhys. If Nesta and Cassian made it official and then broke up later… well, Nesta didn’t want to have to deal with gossip and pitying glances whenever they were at the same place together on top of everything else. Plus, she knew her sisters were nosy romantics who would start asking about going on double dates, planning Nesta and Cassian’s wedding, and making lists of their future babies’ names. 
She couldn’t deal with all of that right now. When her last serious relationship had ended, she’d been left with bruises, a mountain of trust issues, and not much else. It had taken her a long time to put herself back out there again — to trust others with her body, much less her heart. Cassian had proved himself a worthy candidate, willing to be patient with her and put her at ease to help her let her guard down.
What it boiled down to was that she cared about him, far more than she probably should, and it scared the crap out of her. But she was even more afraid of losing him.
“Alright, we’re here!” Cassian’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Close your eyes.”
Nesta took off her seatbelt and did as he asked. Her heart beat erratically in her chest. She listened to the click of Cassian unbuckling his seatbelt and the boom of his car door shutting. A cold breeze hit her as her door opened. She felt Cassian’s large, calloused hand slide into hers, guiding her as she stepped out of the car. 
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. 
“Mhmm,” she replied vaguely. 
A boom sounded, followed by a quick beep beep, indicating Cassian had locked the car.
“We’re almost there, I promise.”
He stood behind her and his hands came to rest on her shoulders, gently turning her to the right and then guiding her path. They walked in silence. Nesta was glad she’d thought to put on a sweater and a jacket as the chilly autumn wind swept past them again. 
Cassian suddenly stopped her and turned her body to the left. 
“Okay,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. His breath was hot against her neck. She shivered. “We’re here.” 
She opened her eyes, and gasped. 
A blue sign with the words “Pegasus Book Company” hung above a blue-framed door. A bell chimed as she entered the shop. Pegasus Book Company was one of the hidden gems of Prythian. Despite being an independent bookstore, it was quite large and well-stocked in many different genres. They also displayed artwork from local artists, which they changed every season. Most of all, the owner, Helion Spell-Cleaver, was said to be amazing at giving book recommendations. Nesta had always wanted to visit Pegasus, but she’d never found the time to drive all the way to Hemera District just to visit one store. She had only mentioned it to Cassian once in the passing. She couldn’t believe that he’d remembered and done this for her. 
“Cassian…” She whispered, her voice full of awe and gratitude. She turned to find him with an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. 
“Surprise,” he said softly. “Sorry that I made you wait to know where we were going. I wanted to surprise you, but I know I made you kind of nervous when I didn’t tell you where I was driving to. Is it ok? I’m sorry if it felt like I was abducting you. I just wanted to, uh, not ruin the surprise.”
Nesta couldn’t find the words to explain how happy his surprise had made her. Instead, she pressed her lips to his and let the kiss express her feelings. 
When they finally pulled apart, her lips formed a smile that she couldn’t suppress if she tried and she added a quiet and genuine “Thank you.” 
She hoped he could read the emotions in her voice and her eyes to understand how much the thoughtful gesture meant to her. His nervous ramble, while unnecessary given how fantastic the surprise was, just showed how much he cared about her. She didn’t know how to handle such affection and kindness. She felt as though she’d cry or melt or burst with everything he made her feel. He treated her as though she were precious and beautiful, worthy of compassion and care, like her company was a gift. As though she mattered.
Later, as he carried the numerous books she selected and listened attentively to her rants about different characters, books, and authors, she was overwhelmed by the pure joy she felt and some other emotion that it was far too soon for her to name. 
Cassian was special — she’d known it since the moment they’d met, when her sharpness had intrigued him rather than pushed him away. He was so perfect and amazing, and yet cared about her so much that she was still in disbelief. The dread that he would wake up one day and realize that she wasn’t worth the trouble was constantly present, and made her hesitant to give him her all for fear of him shattering her completely. 
But it was already too late. 
She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself, by not putting a label on things. It didn’t change how much she cared about him or how she didn’t want to think about him ever leaving her life. It was only hurting her, and more importantly, him. Nesta knew that her fears and her trauma often made her struggle to express her emotions. She never wanted Cassian to doubt how much he meant to her. Yet, it always felt like Cassian was the one doing things for her: he was the one who had asked for her number, the one who usually texted first and planned their dates, and the one who gave her meaningful gifts and surprises. He never hesitated to show or tell her how much he cared. 
What if he didn’t know? She wondered suddenly. What if he genuinely thought that Nesta didn’t care as much — that their relationship didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him? The despair that the thought brought her was shocking in its intensity. 
So as Cassian sat down in the driver’s seat, ready to turn on the car, Nesta blurted out, “Wait!” 
He turned towards her, his face showing his surprise and concern. She acted instinctively, reaching over to pull his hands towards hers and then interlacing their fingers. She took a deep breath as she steeled her resolve. Cassian’s thumb slowly moved back and forth over her hand in a soothing gesture. He’d evidently noticed her nerves. His soft, silent support served to strengthen her determination that she had to do this. 
“Cassian, thank you so much for today,” she began. “It was such an amazing, thoughtful surprise. I really, really enjoyed it.” 
She paused, considering her next words.
“The past few months have been incredible. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. And I-”
“Wait! Nesta, please don’t,” Cassian interrupted. His body had gone tense and his eyes were dull in a way she’d never seen before. His hands had grown sweaty in hers. 
Nesta felt her heart drop. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Oh, gods, what had she been thinking? She’d misread the whole situation. If Cassian had wanted to put a label on their relationship, he would have asked. It was incredibly selfish of her to assume that she was the only one who’d had hangups about it. He would also be put in an awkward situation with Rhys and Feyre. And really, she and Cassian had only known each other for three months. Why had she thought that she should do this? As usual, she was ruining everything by moving too fast and being too intense. 
Cassian continued, his voice choking up slightly, “I know I can be- it can be too much, but I promise, I’ll- we can- this can be whatever you want. We can talk about it and I’ll- I can reel it in. I mean, I’ll respect your boundaries and, uh, wishes and, just. Please, we don’t need to end this completely, just- I-”
He cut himself off as Nesta untangled one of her hands from his. 
“No, wait,” he rushed, his eyes widening in alarm, “if that’s what you really want, then of course I’ll respect it, I just wanted- but- I mean, can we at least stay fr-”
He was cut off again, this time by Nesta’s pointer finger pressing into his lips. 
“Cassian,” she said, in a strong, confident, and reassuring voice, “will you be my boyfriend?” 
His expression morphed instantly, shock and joy flitting over his face.
Nesta waited patiently, sitting in silence, awaiting his answer. She watched as Cassian’s free hand moved to his thigh, which he pinched more than once. Finally, he met her eyes. His mouth was barely curved upwards, as if he was too astonished and emotional to form a smile. 
“Yes,” he replied. 
Cassian’s hand came up to rest ever-so-gently on her cheek as their lips met for a kiss. As they continued to get lost in each other, kissing in the middle of the day in a car parked on the side of a street, Nesta knew that this was what all those fairytales and romance novels were made of.
__________
Present day
“I can’t believe you actually thought I was going to break up with you,” Nesta laughed, shaking her head. “Right after I complimented you, too.”
Cassian shrugged. “It’s a foster kid thing,” he said lightly. “If someone’s being too nice, it just feels like they’re trying to let you down gently.” 
Nesta leaned across the table to press a kiss to his cheek in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. 
“I’m never going to leave you, stupid,” she said. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
Cassian smirked. “I sure hope so.” 
His eyes moved left to the next polaroid and his hand followed suit, coming to rest right above the image. 
“Do you remember that day?” he asked, tapping his pointer finger on the table. “I was so nervous.”
“What? Why were you nervous? I was the one performing!”
__________
Five years ago
“Do you think the tie is too tight?” Cassian asked, pacing in front of the bathroom mirror. “Did I do it wrong? Fuck, do you think it’s too colorful for a formal event? Maybe I should change it to black?”
“Breath, Cassian, breath,” Azriel replied, half-serious. 
Cassian rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Az,” he pleaded.
“You look fine, Cassian. It’s going to go great. Don’t worry.”
Cassian was still fiddling with his tie. “And you don’t think the color is too much?” 
Azriel raised an eyebrow. “It’s burgundy.” 
Cassian continued to questioningly stare at Azriel.
Az sighed. “The color is fine. The tie is perfect.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “Let’s get going.” 
“Oh, shit, are we late?” Cassian scrambled to grab his suit jacket, his keys, and his wallet. Where were those flowers he’d bought? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spent so much time worrying about my fucking tie.” He could have sworn he’d left them on the dining table, but that was empty save for the collection of books, papers, and notebooks that Azriel had organized into neat piles. Cassian checked the kitchen counters, only to find them empty, too. Had he put them in his room? He really needed to get more organized. They were already getting late, and he was going to further delay them. “You know what, just let me- You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later, once I find the bouquet.” 
“Cassian. Cassian!” Azriel snapped his fingers. Cassian paused his frantic search to look at Azriel, who was carrying Cassian’s bouquet in his arms along with two others. “I’ve got it, see? Now, let’s go.” 
Before Cassian could open his mouth, Az added, “We’re not late, don’t worry.” 
As they entered Bryaxis Hall, where the performance was being held, Cassian expected to feel the last of his nerves disappear. 
As soon as he stepped inside, he realized how wrong he was. 
The hall was decadent. The ceiling was higher than a three-story house, the floor was marble with a simple yet elegant carpet running down the center, and Greco-roman pillars with intricate designs lined the hall. A chandelier hung above the grand staircase. The walls were decorated with high relief panels, each portraying a distinct myth or story. 
He followed Azriel up the stairs in silence. He was too consumed by the message every piece of architecture and decoration seemed to be yelling at him: he didn’t belong here. 
It wasn’t like he’d never been to a fancy party before: the NHL had plenty of galas, but even when he was surrounded by his teammates and friends, he always felt like a fraud in a suit. 
Cassian wasn’t meant for luxuries and refinement. He’d grown up dirt poor, even when his mother had still been around. After her death, he’d essentially lived out of a backpack. He’d even spent a few nights out on the streets when he’d been placed in particularly bad foster homes. Until he’d met Shirina, Rhysand’s mother, he had never even eaten chocolate — at least that he could remember. 
He’d only been to watch ballet once before. Shirina had insisted that they see the Nutcracker for Yule, as that had been a tradition in her family. Rhys, being the eleven-year-old that he was, had complained the whole way about being dragged there against his will. Ayla, Rhys’ younger sister, had grumbled about having to watch the Nutcracker again, instead of seeing something different like Swan Lake. Cassian had remained silent. At twelve, he didn’t want to admit that he was interested and excited, for fear of appearing uncool. Still, he was curious and was glad that Shirina had remained insistent despite her children’s protests. 
The ballet had enraptured him. He sat there, amazed by the graceful movements, the silent jumps, the whip-fast pirouettes, and the perfectly synchronized motions. 
Now, as he glanced down at the playbill, he felt completely unqualified to be here. He had no idea what La Bayadère was about — quite frankly, he wouldn’t even know how to pronounce it if Nesta hadn’t told him. He didn’t know any of the ballet terminology, either. How was he going to tell Nesta what he thought of the performance if he didn’t even know how to verbalize it? 
He glanced over at Azriel, hoping to gain some insight. Azriel was close friends with Nesta and two of Nesta’s ballerina friends, Gwyn and Emerie, who were also in tonight’s ballet. Right as Cassian was about to ask, the lights dimmed and the audience fell silent. 
Cassian worried whether he would be able to focus on the performance with all of his anxieties swirling around his head. Nesta deserved his full attention — she had been practicing for this for so long, and had poured her heart and soul into her ballet. There were so many times when she’d been late to dates, staying back in her studio to practice a move that she wanted to perfect. 
But Cassian needn’t have worried. The moment the ballet began, he was completely in its thrall. All his thoughts fled. He sat there, mesmerized, as the ballerinas danced. When Nesta entered, his breath caught in his throat. She was radiant on stage, looking like a goddess, a queen, and a warrior-princess all wrapped up in one. 
After the show, when he handed her the bouquet and told her how incredible she’d been on stage, her expression made it all worth it. Her cheeks, flushed with exhaustion, were rounded as her mouth split into a jubilant smile. Her eyes were awed, as if she was so grateful for his words and presence but couldn’t quite believe he was here. Despite all of his anxieties, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. 
And as Cassian drove home, he realized he couldn’t wait to see Nesta’s next ballet performance. 
__________
Present day
“It really did mean the world to me that you came, you know,” Nesta admitted. “And I was so nervous about what you’d think.”
“Of course I was impressed! Anyone in their right mind would be.” His comment was light. There was no need to mention that Nesta’s ex, Tomas, had considered her job to be a ‘useless passion’ that ‘should only be a hobby’. Both of them knew Tomas was a hateful piece of shit who had done his best to drag Nesta down, and were infinitely grateful that she’d gotten away from him. 
Nesta shot Cassian a small smile before turning back to the pictures.
“Oh! The snowball fight!” She snorted. “Don’t show this to Rhys and Az, we don’t want to remind them.” 
Cassian rolled his eyes, grinning. “They’re big babies.”
__________
Five years ago
Nesta turned around, startled, as someone tapped her shoulder. 
She had been shoveling snow for the last thirty minutes in the dim light of the rising sun. Normally, she loved lying around in bed on snowy days. She was content to sit inside, drinking hot chocolate, watching the world through the window and feeling as though she had been transported inside a snow globe. One of the few perks of living in an apartment was that she didn’t need to shovel snow. 
Last night, however, she had stayed over at Cassian’s townhouse. Cassian’s roommate, Azriel, had gone out, presumably to spend the night with someone. Nesta considered Az to be a friend, but he was extremely private; she had no idea if he was seeing someone, let alone who that someone might be.
Nesta turned around. 
Cassian was standing there, arms crossed, with one eyebrow raised. “Nesta, why didn’t you wake me up?” 
Nesta rolled her eyes and turned back around to keep shoveling. “You’re sore.”
She hadn’t expected to wake up to snow piled up almost five centimeters on the ground. It was the first snow of the winter, and she wanted nothing more than to watch the snow fall from the warmth of Cassian’s bed, curled up against her boyfriend. 
Then, she recalled the numerous bruises and cuts on Cassian’s body that she’d tended to yesterday. He had gotten thoroughly roughed up at his game, though when she’d remarked on it, he’d just laughed and replied that this didn’t even count as getting injured in ice hockey. Still, she’d seen him wincing as he reached to the left when he thought she wasn’t looking. 
So when she’d seen the snow this morning, she’d decided that, instead of going back to sleep, she would shovel the entire walkway and driveway before Cassian woke up. 
Clearly, she’d failed. 
“I’m fine!” Cassian replied, just as Nesta had anticipated. “I’m not-”
Nesta cut him off by shushing him. 
She had a little less than half the driveway left to shovel. She was adept at the art of ignoring someone trying to talk to you: after all, she’d grown up with two little sisters. So as Cassian continued to complain that he was not actually hurt and tried to convince her to hand over the shovel, she just tuned him out and focused on her task. She was making pretty good progress, in her opinion. Sure, her fingers were a little cold even in her gloves, but the desire to keep going and not let Cassian help at all motivated her. The spite kept her warm. 
She was almost a third way done when she heard coughing. She stopped abruptly and turned to Cassian, who was wiping snow off of his face.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my gods! I’m so sorry!” 
Cassian just laughed. “What, you didn’t mean to cover me in snow?”
He leaned down and grabbed a fist full of snow. “Let me show you a faster way to get rid of all this snow, sweetheart.” Nesta barely had time to duck before the snowball flew in her direction.
Abandoning the shovel, she ran away from him. Then, she made her own snowball, which she hid in her hand as she smiled at Cassian innocently. He smiled back and walked towards her until- Wham! Her snowball hit him square in the chest.
Nesta cheered. 
He gasped “Betrayal!” 
As she dodged his next snowball by a hair’s breadth, she stuck her tongue out at him. 
Her cold dissipated as their snowball fight continued. The progress she’d made on the driveway and walkway had definitely been ruined, but she found that she couldn’t care less. Twenty minutes later, when they went back inside, covered in snow, both of them were grinning ear to ear. 
It wasn’t until after they’d showered, changed, and were sipping hot chocolate that Cassian exclaimed, “Shit!” 
His drink sloshed, spilling out of his mug. Nesta took a large sip of her hot chocolate — it really did taste divine with marshmallows — and looked at him questioningly over the rim of her mug.
“You can’t tell Rhys,” Cassian pleaded. “He wouldn’t understand. We need to keep this a secret.”
“What, that I had a snowball fight with my boyfriend?” Nesta answered incredulously. 
Cassian’s face, however, was completely serious. “Yes.” 
“I wasn’t planning on telling him,” Nesta said, struggling not to laugh, “but now I’m curious to see what’ll happen, so…”
“No!” Cassian’s eyes went wide. “You see, every year, when it first snows, Rhys, Az, and I have a snowball fight. It’s a tradition we’ve had for years. If they find out that I had a snowball fight with you first…” Cassian shook his head, as if the possibilities were too horrific to even consider.
“So basically, you cheated on them with me?” A drop of hot chocolate spilled over and ran down the side of Nesta’s mug. She caught it with her finger, which she then brought to her lips.
Cassian’s eyes followed her finger. His Adam's apple bobbed as her finger left her mouth with a pop.
“I, uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. 
She smirked. “Well, I haven’t told them, but I did tell Gwyn and Emerie in our group chat when they asked what I was up to, so Az is definitely going to find out.”
Cassian groaned, putting his face in his hands. Nesta just continued sipping her hot chocolate, laughing quietly.
__________
Present day
“They’re definitely going to hold that against us forever,” Cassian sighed. “They were so mad. That whole winter, I had to watch my back. They just kept pelting me with snowballs whenever they got the chance.” 
“It was hilarious,” Nesta grinned. Then, catching Cassian’s look, she corrected herself. “I mean, it was very terrifying.” She tried for a serious expression but failed, erupting into laughter.
Cassian rolled his eyes, but she could see the smile he was trying to suppress.
“You know what else they’re going to hold against me forever?” Nesta pointed at the polaroid right under the one they’d been looking at. “This. I think I almost gave them heart attacks.”
“Oh, yes. Now, that was hilarious,” Cassian agreed.
__________
Four years ago
Vroom.
Nesta pulled up to the front of the lane, right as the light turned red. Sighing, she raised her face shield. 
She turned to the right, glancing absently at the car in the lane next to her. It was a black Mercedes-Benz, the same car Rhysand owned. As she looked through the rolled-down driver’s seat window, she realized that it was literally the same car, because Rhys was the one driving.
She called out to him, and he turned towards her — then did a double take.
“You- wha- how are you driving Cassian’s motorcycle?” Rhys spluttered. 
Azriel’s head peeked out behind Rhys’. They sported matching shocked expressions, complete with comically wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and parted lips. 
Nesta smirked. “It’s quite easy, actually. I wasn’t sure how I’d do, since I’d never driven a motorcycle before but,” Nesta patted the handles, “she’s a smooth ride.”
That was not what they’d meant by their question. 
Cassian had always dreamed of owning a motorcycle. After going through his finances and realizing that he could afford one now without stretching himself out too thin, he’d finally bought one last week. 
The motorcycle was his prized possession and he was fiercely protective of it. He took the time to polish it after each ride, checking to make sure there wasn’t a single scratch on his treasure. Rhys and Az had been begging to ride it ever since he’d gotten it, but he’d starkly refused, claiming they were both too irresponsible. It was laughable, because Azriel was easily the most responsible member of their trio, but even he wasn’t allowed to do more than look at it. When Az had run a single finger across the paint, Cassian had pulled him away, declaring that Azriel was being too rough and that he clearly hadn’t thought about how the oils from his fingers would interact with the materials on the bike to shorten its lifespan. Azriel had pointed out that the motorcycle was meant to be ridden, but Cassian had ignored him. 
Of course it made sense that Cassian would be so overprotective of his motorcycle. He had never had many possessions. He hadn’t ever owned more than one pair of shoes until he was thirteen, when Shirina insisted on getting him snow boots and dress shoes. He’d replied, “But my sneakers still fit,” confused, and grew even more confused when Shirina wrapped him in a hug in response. 
A motorcycle was something he’d never realistically imagined being able to afford. He’d look at magazines and at the seniors who’d pull up to high school in the Harvey-Davidsons that their fathers had bought them, thinking about what kind of motorcycle he would have wanted if he’d been born to rich parents who were still alive. Now that his wildest dream had become reality, he would guard it to the best of his ability.
He knew that Rhys and Azriel would treasure it as well. They knew that he loved the bike and would never do anything to intentionally harm it. Yet, they had both grown up with money. They didn’t understand the instinct Cassian had to protect the little that was his, because they had grown up with so much to claim as their own. To them, possessions were replaceable. Despite the wealth Cassian had gained, he could never shake off the memory of being a child curled around a backpack as he slept on the street instead of covering himself with it for warmth because he was afraid it would get stolen. 
So when Cassian had casually offered to let Nesta try riding it, she was shocked to say the least. 
“Are you sure?” she’d asked about a hundred times, but his answer never changed. When she’d admitted that she had never ridden a motorcycle before, he had just replied, “I’m honored to be your first,” with a wink. He then took Nesta, who was blushing and rolling her eyes, outside to teach her the basics. 
“Alright,” he said with a clap, twenty minutes later. 
Nesta got off the bike, assuming he wanted to return it to its position in the garage. 
“Want to take it for a whirl?” he said instead.
She spun around to face him. “Really? But I… I wouldn’t want to damage your motorcycle. I know how important it is to you and, well, are you sure you want me to ride it?”
Cassian just shrugged, smiling. “No pressure, of course, if you’d rather not ride a motorcycle, but I’d love for you to try.” Something shifted in his eyes as he said, “I’d love to share it with you.”
Nesta blinked. She had grown up very differently from Cassian. She’d been born into a wealthy, upper-class family that later lost its wealth when her father got laid off and her mother fell ill. The medical bills piled up as her father searched in vain for work during a recession, and once her mother passed away, her father fell into the arms of alcoholic depression. Luckily, Nesta had enough training and experience by that point to gain a scholarship to her ballet school. 
So while Nesta had experienced poverty, it was never in the way that Cassian had. She could only understand Cassian’s desperation to hold on to his possession on an intellectual level. 
She didn’t know why he would trust her with something so precious.
“Of course I trust you,” Cassian added, as though he’d read her mind. He kissed her on the forehead, as if to say ‘you’re precious to me’. Nesta closed her eyes. 
“Um,” she whispered, then cleared her throat to continue in a stronger voice, “I’d be honored.” Then, she glanced down at the dress she was wearing. “Maybe tomorrow?” she added.
Cassian laughed that hearty, deep laugh that always made her heart clench. “Can’t wait, sweetheart.”
So here she was, the next day, riding Cassian’s motorcycle. She’d been sure to dress more appropriately in her leather pants, jacket, and boots. She asked Cassian to confirm that her outfit was ok, just to make sure. He hummed approvingly as she spun around.
He then sat her down, and put on her elbow pads and knee pads on her. If it had been anyone else, she would have complained incessantly about being treated like a child; because it was Cassian, who touched her so tenderly as he adjusted the straps, she couldn’t feel anything except gratitude and joy. 
“Ready?” He asked as she sat down on the bike. She gave him a thumbs up as he took a step back, gazing as though he was an artist who was looking at the tableau he’d painted. Dressed all in black, atop a black motorcycle, Nesta felt like she cut quite the figure. She felt powerful, as though she could do anything. 
She turned on the engine and was about to get going when Cassian shouted, “Wait!” and ran over to her. She paused, looking up at Cassian as he ran over to her and lifted her face shield. 
He kissed her, hard, and she melted into it. When he pulled away, she sat there for a moment, dazed. She brought a hand to her lips and continued to stare at Cassian. His parted lips were dark red, stained with her lipstick. 
She took a deep breath, blinking a few times to regain her focus and dispel all the images of a naked Cassian from her mind. She pulled down her face shield, revved the motorcycle, and set off. 
“But- how did you get Cass to agree to let you ride his bike?” Azriel asked, astounded.
Nesta shrugged, grinning. “What, like it’s hard?”
She zoomed off as the light turned green, leaving Rhys and Az in the dust with their mouths hanging wide open. 
__________
Present day
“I’ll cherish that moment forever,” Nesta laughed. 
Cassian grinned back at her, then pointed to a picture in the bottom row. 
“You know what I’ll cherish forever? This one.”
Nesta looked at it and sighed. “Great, now mine seems shallow. Why do you have to be so kind and thoughtful?”
“I’ll try to stop.”
“That would be much appreciated.”
__________
Four years ago
Cheers filled the rink.
“GO DRAKON!” yelled the girl sitting right next to Nesta.
Emerie, who was sitting on her other side, held back a hissing Nesta by grabbing both her shoulders. 
“That was ridiculous,” Nesta said through clenched teeth. “Why isn’t the ref saying anything? That was definitely a foul!” 
“It was a beautiful goal,” Rhysand corrected.
Nesta’s fiery glare turned to him and he withered as she snapped, “Whose side are you on?”
It was Nesta’s first time being at Cassian’s game. Of course, she’d seen his games on TV before, but both of them had agreed that she should wait before attending a game and being in the presence of all his fans and the media. Now that they had been officially dating for over a year, they’d both felt it was time. Nesta’s best friends, Gwyn and Emerie, had decided to accompany her. They had both claimed that they just wanted to watch the game, but she knew that they really were there to provide her with moral support.
Sadly, Cassian’s team — the Velaris Ghost Leopards — was currently losing 4-2 to the Adriata Sirens. Nesta, who never followed ice hockey closely until meeting Cassian, had been yelling up a storm as passionately as any long-time die-hard Ghost Leopards fan. They were about halfway through the third period and any hope that the Ghost Leopards could win was slowly disappearing. Especially as Jurian Zbirak, the Sirens’ center, passed discreetly to Varian Ulwandle, the left winger who was famously good at scoring. 
“I can’t watch,” Gwyn grimaced as Varian got past the Ghost Leopards’ defenceman, Andras Lupo. The crowd held their breath as Varian took the shot and- 
“Saved!” Emerie yelled as Rhysand let out a whoop. 
Thesan Vu, the Ghost Leopards’ goalie, had managed to save it beautifully.
Nesta gasped loudly as Kallias Neve, the Ghost Leopards’ center, took the puck and skated forward. Unfortunately, the other team’s defense was extremely strong, and caught sight of him almost immediately. Kallias cut sharply to the left, but the defenseman Eris Vanserra quickly shifted positions to block him. 
“No, no, no, no, no,” Nesta chanted. Emerie was biting her nails anxiously next to her and Azriel was covering his mouth with his hands.
Kallias tried to deke Eris by feigning left and then cutting right, but Eris had seen through his tricks and was about to steal the puck when- 
Nesta jumped out of her seat. “Look!”
Kallias had managed to trick Eris after all. He’d drop passed the puck to Cassian, who was now zooming towards the goal. By the time Eris and Devlon Lyons, the other Sirens defenseman, realized and headed for Cassian, it was already too late. 
Nesta held her breath as Cassian got into position, took the shot and- 
“He scored!” Nesta cheered at the top of her lungs. 
Her throat was definitely going to be sore tomorrow but she didn’t even care. 
She watched as Cassian lit up with glee and his teammates congratulated him. This was why she cheered so hard, why she cared so much about the sport. It wasn’t as though she’d magically become obsessed with ice hockey when she’d met Cassian. No, it was the joy that the sport brought him and the way he put his heart and soul into it — giving it his all at every game, every training, every play — that made her passionate about it. Cassian worked so incredibly hard at hockey and it was such a big part of his life. How could something so important to him not be important to her, too? 
Cassian’s eyes locked on hers. Nesta froze. 
He brought his left hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. 
The crowd went wild as Cassian’s fans assumed he’d blown it to them. But Nesta could only sit down, dazed. She didn’t know why she felt so shocked that her boyfriend had blown her a kiss. They’d done far more than kiss, for gods’ sake. Perhaps it was because it had been in front of everyone, like Cassian was declaring his affection for her publicly and showing that he wasn’t ashamed of being with her. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d thought of her in the middle of a game, as though he never stopped thinking about her, even when he was singularly focused on ice hockey.
Emerie elbowed Nesta in the ribs and stage-whispered, “Your face is red, you know.” 
“Shut up,” was Nesta’s dignified response.
With five minutes left in the period, the Sirens held control of the puck.
“Are they just wasting time, trying to run out the clock?” Nesta huffed. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”
Drakon Aliyev — the Sirens’ right winger — kept passing back and forth with the Jurian and Varian, barely moving forward. 
“C’mon!” Rhysand jeered. 
Suddenly, with thirty seconds left on the clock, Jurian sped forward. He weaved between Ghost Leopards’ players, dodging and deking them. 
Twenty seconds. 
Andras closed in on Jurian, but Jurian back passed to Drakon right before Andras caught up to him. Drakon skated past them, zigzagging to avoid the other players who attempted to catch up to him. 
Ten seconds.
As Lucien — the Ghost Leopards’ other defenseman — moved in to body-check him, Drakon made eye contact with Varian, who had skated forward and was completely open. Drakon turned towards Varian, leaning his left shoulder down to pass to him.
Five seconds. 
Lucien shifted to guard Drakon’s right side, blocking him from passing to Varian. 
Four.
Drakon turned his hockey stick, which was on the left of the puck, to position it behind the puck, and aimed at the goal. Lucien scrambled to move back to his previous position in front of Drakon. 
Three. 
Drakon’s stick hit the puck, taking a strong shot. It flew through the middle of Lucien’s legs, headed straight towards the goal.
Two. 
Thesan shifted his stick and crouched down, moving into position to block the puck. 
One.
The puck landed on the ice a hair’s breadth in front of Thesan and slid through the small gap between his stick and his foot, straight into the goal.
Zero.
The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts. 
Nesta was chief among them. “What? That’s crazy! The puck was not completely over the line before the buzzer! Why the fuck are they counting it?” 
“It actually was,” Rhysand replied. “Wasn’t it an amazing buzzer beater, Az?”
Nesta was fuming. “What? Were you even watching the game? About a third of the puck hadn’t crossed the line! Don’t you agree, Az?” 
Az looked between them with wide eyes and then wisely chose to say, “Hey, why don’t we try to go catch Cassian before he has to go to the changing room?” 
Nesta was still grumbling as they walked up to where Cassian was talking to his teammates.
Azriel tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, his disappointed frown turning into a friendly smile. Then, his eyes landed on Nesta and his expression softened. 
Nesta peered up at him and sent him a small smile. But a second later, she resumed her muttering, hissing under her breath, “I can’t fucking believe the refs don’t give a shit about the Sirens’ blatant cheating.”
Rhysand, who was standing right next to Nesta, groaned loudly. Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. “This one,” Rhys began, tilting his head towards Nesta, “hasn’t stopped complaining about the Sirens and the refs.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “They didn’t fucking cheat, Nesta. They won. Just accept it and move on.” He turned to Cassian with a glance that said ‘urg, can you believe her?’ 
Unfortunately for Rhysand, he was not met with the sympathetic backup he’d anticipated from Cassian. Instead, Cassian’s face split into a huge grin that only widened when Nesta retorted, “Well, it’s true! I swear the puck wasn’t fully over the line when I heard the buzzer. The refs were definitely biased, because they called the Ghost Leopards’ offsides in period 1 but not any of the Sirens’ fouls!” 
He let out a breathy laugh as wonder and joy lit up his eyes. He enveloped Nesta with his arms, burying his smile in her hair. 
Time froze.
Their eyes closed like camera shutters as they stood still, taking in the moment and committing it to memory. They were both silent, too overwhelmed by the intensity of their emotions.
An eternity later, Cassian broke the silence, whispering “Thank you” into Nesta’s neck. He let her go, but not before pressing a kiss against her cheek.
__________
Present day
“You know, it meant the world to me to see that you defended me so fiercely.” Cassian’s tone was sincere but still light, as one could only be with those whom they’d been vulnerable with many times before. “To know that you cared so much about me… well. It’s not like no one cared about me before, you know, obviously I had Rhys and Az and stuff, but I still struggled with really believing that people could care about me — that I could matter to people. That moment… Of course it didn’t completely ‘fix’ me,” Cassian made air quotes with his fingers, “but I think that’s when it really clicked and I realized that you felt the same way about me that I felt about you — that I mattered to you, too.”
Nesta swallowed, realizing that she was choking up, which was extremely uncharacteristic of her. The closest she usually got to crying was when she read about fictional characters, and even then she almost never felt tears welling up as they were now. 
“I love you,” Nesta answered quietly. It was the truth, plain and simple. “You matter to me, and you always have.”
“I love you too,” Cassian answered. His hand reached out to cover hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. 
A moment later, he pointed to another polaroid in the bottom row. 
“This one was next, right?”
“Yeah,” Nesta said, her eyes twinkling as she reminisced. “Those views were so worth it, but damn, I don’t think I’ve ever been as tired and sore.”
Cassian smirked. “Oh really? Not even-”
“Nope,” Nesta interrupted with a smirk of her own.
Cassian blinked, as though her reply had genuinely shocked him. Once he recovered, he answered, “Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” 
He winked. 
Nesta rolled her eyes, but brought a hand to cheek to cover what she assumed was her rather obvious blush. 
__________
Four years ago
“Are you sure you don’t need to drink more water?” Cassian asked again.
“Yes, Cassian, I’m just as sure as I was when you asked me two seconds ago,” Nesta replied, a small smile on her lips despite her slight irritation at his repetitive questioning. Nesta would never in a million years admit that she liked Cassian’s coddling, but in truth she did enjoy knowing how much he cared. 
They’d decided to get away from the city for a week to go on the backpacking trip they’d been talking about for months now. Miraculously, Cassian’s off-season had aligned perfectly with Nesta’s and they intended to make full use of it. 
Initially, they had considered inviting some of their friends and family to join them on a hike to a different location, but after Nesta’s argument with Rhysand over reproductive freedoms dissolved into an intense shouting match with personal attacks, Cassian had decided to limit the trip to just the two of them. He’d hoped to give them some space from each other to help them cool off. 
There was also an additional reason he had decided not to invite anyone else — most notably Rhysand — that he hadn’t told Nesta. The day after the row, Cassian had gone to see Rhysand, hoping to help clear the air. Instead of being regretful and guilty, Rhysand had been stubborn, claiming that Nesta was the only one who needed to apologize. He called Nesta a “vicious bitch”, saying that he didn’t know why Cassian would want to be with such a “fucked up person who clearly had way too many issues” and “only wanted Cassian for the money and fame”. When he laughed, “The sex must be really good for you to put up with her,” spitting out the last word as though Nesta was the scum of the Earth who wasn’t even worthy of being named by Rhysand, Cassian had exploded. 
He’d completely lost it, snarling and hurling insults at Rhys. He’d yelled that Rhys was clearly so insecure that he couldn’t accept when he was wrong and had to tear others down to try to fix his fragile ego. 
“Maybe you want to pretend you’re perfect because you don’t know how to love people, flaws and all,” Cassian had hissed. “So yeah, Nesta might have some ‘issues’ but so do I. And guess what? That’s fine. We still care about each other, for real. Unlike you, we don’t feel the need to lie about who we are. At least our relationship is real and is based on honesty and truth.” 
It had been a low blow, to allude to his previous relationships. Rhys had dated Amarantha, a wealthy actress and politician’s daughter, at his parents’ request back when Rhys’ dad, Hadrian, was still running the conglomerate called Night Court Corporations which was later passed down to Rhys. This had been both a PR stunt, which showed rivals just how strong and influential their family was and distracted the media from Ayla’s underage drunk driving, and a way to gain Amarantha’s father’s support in giving Night Court Corporations a tax break. Their relationship had been faker than Amarantha’s tan. 
His only real relationship before Feyre had been with Carmella, a girl who worked at a coffee shop he used to frequent, although calling it ‘real’ was a stretch, as Rhysand had lied to her about his family and his past. They had dated for almost a year, and Az and Cassian had met the poor girl numerous times, but Rhysand had insisted that he would keep being ‘Reese, son of an office worker’ when he was with her in order to avoid ‘getting used’. 
So yes, the comment had been mean and Cassian had felt slightly guilty about it, despite it being true. 
But then, Rhys had retorted, “Real? Please, Cassian, I can’t believe that you can’t see through her! She doesn’t ‘care about you’ or whatever, she only cares about the money, just like everybody else like her!”
Cassian’s eyes had narrowed and he’d slowly bit out, “Like her? What do you mean by that?”
His eyes had flashed with rage and pain, because he’d known exactly what Rhysand meant. 
His suspicions were confirmed when Rhys’ expression had twitched. He’d meant people who weren’t as famous, as well-to-do, as wealthy. People who didn’t have a trust fund or a summer house or extra cars. People who couldn’t take vacations or make big purchases without saving up first. People who couldn’t say ‘money isn’t a problem’. People like Nesta who had to have side jobs in addition to their main one just to be able to afford rent in a city like Velaris. And people like Cassian, for whom even food and housing and safety had never been a guarantee, let alone new clothing or vacations. 
Rhysand had just implied that Cassian had never cared about Rhysand or Shirina or Ayla or Hadrian. That Cassian had only been with them for the money and that all the love he had for them was fake. 
Rhysand stayed silent.
Cassian repeated, “What do you mean, Rhys?”
“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. It wasn’t about- I’m just trying to help you! She doesn’t actually care.” At Cassian’s murderous glare, he amended, “And even if she does, she doesn’t deserve you! I’m just trying to rescue you, man.”
“Rescue me?” Cassian laughed, coldly. “I’m not some semi-homeless kid anymore. I don’t need a fucking hero to save me. Maybe you want to think I’m some helpless victim because you can’t stand the fact that I’m finally happy and I don’t need you anymore. How are you going to feed your savior complex now?”
Rhysand scoffed, glaring down at him as though Cassian were a peasant and he were a god. It only served to fuel the cold flames of Cassian’s anger.
“Or maybe you don’t like that I’m succeeding,” Cassian said, his voice quiet and dangerous. “You don’t like that I’m rich and famous and I did it all on my own. I worked hard and got here and I’m only gonna keep rising. Who are you gonna look down at now to remind yourself just what a special little boy you are?”
Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Rich? Please, Cassian, you’re doing okay, but you could never be as rich as me. And all on your own? Need I remind you that I gave you a house and food and clothes? I paid for your hockey gear and for chauffeurs to drive you to games. You worked hard, sure, but so did I. We’re the same, so stop trying to act like you’re any better than me.”
“Aww, did I hurt your fragile little ego?” Cassian pouted mockingly. “You know that you didn’t do any of that, right? Shirina and Hadrian paid for all those things. And yes, they helped me, but at least I got my job because of skill and hard work. You got yours because you were born a boy. We’re not the same and we’ll never be.”
“You’re right,” Rhysand replied coolly. “We’re not the same. I don’t know why I ever bothered to pretend otherwise.”
Cassian had stormed out, tossing a “By the way, it’s called a taxi, not a chauffeur!” over his shoulder as he exited.
Admittedly, it had not been his best comeback.
After that incident, Cassian had decided not to speak to Rhys for a while, let alone invite him on any trips.
As they hiked up the hilly landscape, Cassian was grateful he’d decided to spend this time alone with Nesta instead. Somehow, the whole trip felt so much more meaningful with her by his side, like this was a glimpse at the life they were building together. 
“Gods, my legs are definitely going to hurt after today,” Nesta mumbled as they hiked up an especially steep section.
“Are you okay? Do you want to take a break- or should I carry you?” Cassian hurriedly replied. 
Nesta just laughed, staring pointedly at his backpack. “Literally how?”
Cassian gestured to his front. “You doubt my strength?”
“Yes,” Nesta teased, sticking her tongue out at him before speed walking ahead. 
“Wait up!”
Each night, they shared a tent. Despite starting out in sleeping bags on separate mattress pads, they always ended up cuddling together, supposedly for warmth. A couple nights in, Nesta figured out how to zip their sleeping bags together to create a single larger sleeping bag, whispering “Oh no, there’s only one bed!” as she did so. 
Every morning, Cassian would wake Nesta up with a kiss to her cheek. She’d always scrunch her face and groggily mutter, “No, don’t do that, I’m disgusting.”
“You could never be disgusting, sweetheart,” Cassian would reply, prompting Nesta to open her eyes only to roll them at him. 
When they finally arrived at Windhaven Overlook, their destination, they spent a day admiring the views and having a small picnic. 
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Nesta said, resting her head on Cassian’s shoulder. “It means a lot that you’d want to share this with me.”
Cassian kissed her forehead in response. 
He had been to this spot only twice before, but it was still one of the most important locations for him. 
The first time, Enalius had brought him here. Enalius was a man close to Cassian’s heart. They’d first met when Enalius approached Cassian, whose face was glued to a window, watching an ice hockey team practice. Cassian had snuck into the skating rink for warmth and to use the vending machines and the water fountains, but had let his guard down, enthralled by the skaters. 
“Are you spying on them?” were the first words out of Enalius’ mouth. 
“What? NO!” Cassian had tried to run, but Enalius clasped his shoulder with a strong arm. 
“Really? What team do you play for?”
“I don’t play hockey!” 
At that, Enalius had frowned. “Really? That’s a shame. I think you might be good at it. Why don’t you ask your parents to sign you up for a class sometime?” 
Cassian’s eyes had dropped to the floor. “No, that’s okay.”
“C’mon, now,” Enalius had tried again. “I’m sure you could be better than those boys in no time.”
“I’ve never even skated before.”
Enalius raised an eyebrow as Cassian furiously backtracked, realizing that he’d basically admitted he’d snuck in. 
“Uh, I mean, I’ve never skated in, uh, hockey rinks with, uh-”
Enalius smiled. “Don’t worry, kid.” He looked Cassian up and down once more and sighed, “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try? You’ll never know what it’s like until you give it a go.”
Cassian shrugged.
“Well, if you ever think you want to, just tell the lady at the counter over there that Enalius Ramiel told you to sign up for a lesson with him, okay? And get your parents to sign all the release forms and stuff.”
“Oh, they, uh, can’t do that.”
Enalius cocked his head. “Should I talk to them? Don’t worry, lessons aren’t actually that expensive, and I’ll give you a little discount.”
“No, um, you can’t talk to them,” Cassian mumbled uncomfortably.
Enalius took a step back. “Sorry kid, didn’t mean to pressure you. Lemme know if you ever want me to talk to your parents or anything.”
As Enalius started to turn around, Cassian was suddenly caught by a panic and blurted, “You can’t talk to them ’cause they’re dead.” 
Enalius froze. 
“Oh,” he said after a moment. “I see.” 
He studied Cassian’s face for a moment and then grabbed his hand, power-walking towards the check-in counter. They cut to the front of a long line of people as Enalius flashed a badge.
“Hey, Val, can we book rink 3 for a private lesson?” Enalius asked the lady at the counter with a grin. 
“Sure, when do you want to schedule it for?” 
“Now.” 
Val raised her eyebrows. “Now? Are you joking?” 
Enalius shook his head. 
Val just sighed. “Fine, but I don’t think the ice has been refreshed in a while. Also, it’s booked after 5:30, so you’ve got a little less than an hour.”
“Thanks, Val, you’re the best.” Then, he turned to Cassian. “What size are your feet?” 
“Um… 6?” Cassian guessed, rounding up a size from his current too-small sneakers. 
“A pair of size 6 hockey skate rentals, too,” Enalius added. “Put it all on my tab.”
Then, he leaned in to whisper something Cassian couldn’t hear, which made Val sigh, “Oh, Ali, I hope you know what you’re doing.” 
The next hour had changed Cassian's life. He’d started out wobbling, barely staying vertical and walking instead of skating on the ice. By the end, he was gliding effortlessly, skating around and in between the cones Enalius set up. He fell in love with ice skating. 
So Cassian returned, day after day, getting free private lessons from Enalius, and he soon became enamored by ice hockey, too.
Enalius became Cassian’s mentor, not only teaching him hockey but also buying Cassian snacks or dinner and making sure he got back safely. It was Enalius who later introduced Shirina, his childhood friend, to Cassian, further changing his life.
It wasn’t until much later that Cassian learned what a famous and successful hockey player Enalius was. Enalius remained Cassian’s coach right until he joined the NHL himself.
There were few people who were as important to Cassian as Enalius. And that was why this place that Enalius had brought him to years ago was so special to Cassian. 
Shirina, Hadrian, Rhysand, and Ayla had decided to go abroad and travel alongside some cousins during fall break. Enalius had overheard Shirina hesitating about leaving Cassian home alone for the week and had offered to take him on a trip of their own. Cassian, who had never been on a trip as far as he was aware of, was ecstatic and it did not disappoint. It became one of Cassian’s best memories.
The second time he came to this spot was after Shirina’s death. Rhysand and Ayla had been inconsolable, each grieving in their own way: Rhysand never spent a moment alone, as though he could bury his feelings in the high of socializing and parties, while Ayla barely spoke or even left her room. Hadrian was trying his best to keep it together, but was clearly in way over his head — managing the children and their emotions had always been Shirina’s department, not his. Luckily, their extended family had flown into town to help them all. Friends and acquaintances had reached out, trying to find ways to support them through all the grief. 
Cassian, who couldn’t really be classified as a friend or family to Shirina, had been overlooked. It wasn’t like he expected anything different, but watching everyone comforting each other and ignoring him hurt. It was as though he had no right to grieve — to be this hurt by her death — and maybe he didn’t, but she had been the closest thing he’d had to a parent since he’d been 5 years old. He’d loved her, too. No, he wasn’t her child, but he was something to her, even if it couldn’t be labeled so easily. 
Now she was gone and whatever they had been was erased. It didn’t matter that he’d used his first paycheck to buy her a birthday present, or that she had attended all his home NHL games, or that they’d often go on walks together. It didn’t matter that she always knew when he needed a hug or that she’d taught him how to cook. 
Cassian had decided to hike to Windhaven Overpass to get out of his own head. 
The journey had helped him to process his emotions. The sunsets and the plant life around him had seemed far more beautiful that time, reminding him of how much Shirina had loved nature. At night, the stars seemed brighter than normal, and he recalled Shirina explaining to him that in her culture, stars were considered to be ancestral and guardian spirits looking down at you and guiding you. 
Cassian felt like Shirina had been there, watching him from the sky and reaching out with a comforting hand as he struggled. That trip, he had gotten angry and laughed joylessly and sobbed. He’d felt empty and about to explode at the same time. He had gotten to be something different from the strong, smiling version of himself that he usually presented to the public. In the end, the trip had helped him find some sort of closure and peace with Shirina’s death.
Now, Cassian had brought Nesta here.
He had told her about his prior trips with Windhaven and what the location meant to him, but actually bringing her here was a sign that Cassian was willing to be vulnerable with her. 
He had always feared people would leave him and that he was replaceable, and worried about tainting such a special place with memories of someone who would later leave his life. 
And yet, Cassian had brought her here.
“This spot is important to me, Nes, and so are you,” Cassian said. “Thank you for coming. It’s my honor to be here, with you.”
He didn’t say: ‘I’m not worried about bringing you here because what we have is different — it’s meant to last.’
He didn’t say: ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever cared about enough to let myself be vulnerable like this with — you could destroy me, but I’m willing to take that chance.’
He didn’t say: ‘I love you.’
And yet, that was what they both heard.
__________
Present day
“I knew you were in love with me the second you invited me on that trip,” Nesta smirked. 
“Sweetheart, I was gone for you way before then,” Cassian laughed. 
“That’s true,” she grinned. “You had an embarrassingly massive crush on me for the longest time. And you must’ve loved me a whole lot to let me get away with making Rhys grovel like that.”
“First of all, get your facts straight: I still have an embarrassingly massive crush on you,” he replied. “And secondly, well, Rhys deserved it and also it was really entertaining to watch.”
The day after they’d gotten back, Rhysand had sent Cassian and Nesta a long message, asking them to meet up so that he could apologize in person. Nesta decided that they should talk to Rhys separately. 
Cassian went first. Rhys apologized profusely for all the names he’d called Nesta, for all the things he’d implied about Cassian, and for all the insults. Cassian in turn apologized for his part, and the two of them had a chat in which Rhys admitted that he’d acted like an entitled prick and that he was genuinely sorry. They made up and quickly forgave each other, like the pseudo-brothers they were.
Nesta and Rhysand were an altogether different story. Rhysand apologized to her as well, but she answered that while she accepted his apology, she could not forgive him so easily. 
She understood that he didn’t like her, and that was his right, but she also felt that he couldn’t try to make claims about her character when he barely knew her. She told him that she was perfectly fine with having a tepid relationship with him where they would only speak when strictly necessary or that they could try to get to know each other better. Rhysand went with the second option. From there, they went on to have many long discussions. Once they’d gotten a bit closer, Nesta returned to their original point of contention: reproductive freedoms. She made Rhys listen to podcasts and read articles and watch videos about what reproductive freedom really was and why it was so important. “You don’t have to change your opinion,” she’d said, over and over. “You just need to be informed before you try to make claims about what others should or shouldn’t do with their bodies and their lives.”
It was only months later that Nesta finally stopped putting him through the wringer and told him that she’d forgiven him. 
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Cass. It definitely was all for your entertainment, no other reason at all for us to argue,” Nesta replied dryly.
Her eyes drifted to the polaroid in the bottom right corner. “Now that,” she pointed, “that was entertainment. What a show!” She licked her lips and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly. 
“It was completely staged, of course,” Cassian joked. “The whole thing was just for your pleasure.”
Nesta raised an eyebrow. “My ‘pleasure’?” 
“My, my, what a dirty mind you have, Nesta!” Cassian fake-gasped. “A proper gentleman would never imply something so improper to a lady like yourself.”
“A proper gentleman? Where?” she retorted without missing a beat. 
He clutched his chest. “You wound me, m’lady.” He shook his head. “And to think, I was your knight in shining armor that day…”
“More like knight in very little armor.”
__________
Three years ago
Plunk.
They watched, immobilized by shock, as the necklace drifted below the water’s surface. 
It fell slowly, until it became only a vague shadow in the water.
“Nesta?” “Nesta, are you ok?” 
Voices faded in and out of Nesta’s awareness. She tried to force herself to smile, to nod that she was completely, totally fine. Unfortunately, she seemed to have lost the ability to control her body. 
It was so, so stupid. She’d been having such a wonderful day. And now, she’d ruined it.
Cassian and Azriel had prepared a group trip to Ravennia Park, complete with a lovely picnic lunch in the field of blooming daffodils. Cassian had even made sure to include all her favorite foods in the lunch. Afterward, they walked around the park, stopping occasionally to take pictures or listen to birds. 
They had stopped on this small bridge so that Feyre could take pictures of the glistening lake and the paddling of ducks that had just entered the water. Nesta had leaned over the railing, chatting with Cassian as she watched the colorful koi fish swim.
Her necklace had snapped suddenly, tumbling into the water before anyone could react. 
Her silver necklace, which her father had given her for her eighth birthday, disappeared under the surface of the lake. Gone, just like her middle school best friend, Clare Beddor, who had drowned herself in a pool. Gone, just like her father.
Until her mother got sick, Nesta had had an amazing relationship with her father. She would sit next to him, listening intently as he explained how trading and shipbuilding worked. She was always the one to run and open the door when he came home from work, enveloping him in a hug. She loved it when he read her bedtime stories and watched her dance around the living room.
Then, everything changed. Her illusion that he could do no wrong broke when her mother told her that the reason she wasn’t getting better from her illness was that they couldn’t afford good doctors and medicine since her father had lost his job. After that, Nesta’s resentment only grew as the misfortunes piled up. Her mother died and they couldn’t afford the funeral that she’d wanted. Her sisters had to change schools. They moved into a smaller house, with a bedroom that all three sisters shared. They struggled to put food on the table. 
When her father decided to sell art instead of looking for another job, saying he couldn’t rely on others to give him work, Nesta fumed. How could he sit there, carving wood and drinking beer, while Feyre worked overtime at her job in addition to school and she and Elain did all the cooking and cleaning? Nesta had vowed to leave as soon as she could, and, it turned out, that ballet allowed her to leave the nest sooner than expected. 
Still, she’d felt guilty leaving her sisters to fend for themselves in that house, and then felt even angrier at her father for not taking care of them and putting Nesta in a position where she felt guilty for following her dreams. 
Suffice to say, Nesta had a difficult relationship with him — one that was made all the more complex when he died of a sudden heart attack. 
It had taken Nesta a long time to process and make peace with his death. 
She’d decided to wear the necklace her father had given her today, in honor of his birthday. Once upon a time, she had worn this necklace all the time, showing off the token of her father’s affection. By putting it back on, she felt like she was healing a teenage Nesta, who had violently taken off her necklace at her mother’s funeral and shoved it into the drawer of her bedside table. 
And now, it was lost forever. 
“Nesta?” 
Cassian’s voice cut through her haze and she lifted her eyes to see his worried expression. He brought a finger to her cheek, caressing it softly. It grounded her, bringing her back to the present, but she didn’t react — couldn’t react — more than just blinking at him dazedly. 
Cassian took a deep breath. He grabbed the back of his t-shirt and removed it in one smooth motion, his pants quickly following suit. Before Nesta could process what was happening, he climbed over the railing and plunged into the lake. 
Nesta could only cling to the railing, shocked silent for a new reason as she waited, praying to all the gods she barely believed in that his head would emerge from the water. 
She tried to dispel all the fears that swam around in her mind, taunting her about the dangers of the lake. The water plants that could ensnare even experienced swimmers’ feet and drown them, the animals that could bite and eat him, the sharp rocks that could injure him, the current that could pull him under — the possibilities were endless.
Cassian’s head emerged from the water and she felt her heart unclench, just for a second, until he disappeared once more. 
This jerked Nesta out of her stupor. 
“Cassian,” she called out. “Cass! What the fuck are you doing? Get back here! ” Her voice grew increasingly panicked as there was no response. 
“It’s dangerous, are you insane? Cassian? Cassian!”
Her shouts only stopped when Cassian surfaced. His broad shoulders and defined abs glistened in the sunlight as drops of water rolled down his chest. The bun his hair had been in had come upon, and now his dark, wavy-curly mane was streaming down his back. His brown skin was slick with water and drops clung to his long eyelashes. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing that he looked exactly how she’d imagined a merman to be. 
Her lips parted as he stepped out of the water. She forced her eyes away from his soaking wet underwear that clung to his body, defining every inch of it. Her gaze fixed on his chest instead. She knew she should be focusing on Cassian’s face or the necklace in his hand but he was so fucking distracting. Soaked Cassian was criminally delectable. 
“Nesta?” 
Cassian’s voice was worried, probably since Nesta still wasn’t speaking.
“Nes,” he whispered, gently tilting her head upwards with a finger under her chin. 
Their eyes met. Cassian’s concern was wiped off his face and was instantly replaced by a smirk.
“Lost your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased.
Though she had indeed lost the ability to speak, she would not give him the satisfaction of admitting it. No, she would play his game and beat him at it. 
She licked her lips slowly. She tilted her head back to expose the column of her throat while she swallowed sharply, knowing how it drove him crazy. Cassian made a low noise in the back of his throat, as though he was trying and failing to suppress a groan. Then, he put his arms on her shoulders, turning her around. 
“Lift up your hair,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers across her body. 
She did as he requested. He put the necklace back on her neck, patiently working the tiny clasp. His fingers brushed her neck, and even the cold silver of the necklace couldn’t cool the heat that spread within her. When the necklace was securely fastened, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. 
She took a moment to look deep within his eyes. 
She would have to yell at him later for risking his life for a piece of jewelry, but nonetheless she appreciated what he had done. He was one of the only people who knew that she had a fear of deep water due to its association with Clare, and was also the only person who knew what putting this necklace back on meant for her. Yes, it was only a necklace, but he had also saved her from reopening the wounds of her complex relationship with her father and her past self. 
So she kissed him, knowing he would understand every conflicting thought and emotion that she pressed against his lips. And when his hand came up to support her neck, she knew that he was answering ‘I’m here for you, always.’
__________
Present day
“I knew you were objectifying me,” Cassian pouted mockingly.
Nesta nodded. “Oh, for sure. You’re nothing but a sexy hunk to me.” 
She leaned closer to him. “That’s why I said I love you first.” She tapped the picture in the top left corner. 
Cassian rolled his eyes. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”
Nesta hummed as though she were seriously contemplating the issue. “How about… forever?” 
Cassian’s eyes sparkled and his mouth twisted around, as though he were trying to hold back a grin. 
“Urg, fine,” he said. His attempt to appear annoyed failed completely as he sounded more amused than anything else. “As long as you know I loved you first.”
It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes in mock annoyance, despite knowing that he was likely correct. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
__________
Three years ago
It was the final match of the Alfheim Ice Hockey Championships. If the Velaris Ghost Leopards managed to beat the Hybern Hydras, they would win the Fionn Cup for the first time in history. 
The game was extremely close, with both teams tied at 2-2, though not for lack of trying. The Hydras were playing atrociously dirty by anyone’s standards. They had already received numerous green and yellow cards, but it didn’t seem to deter them from continuing to foul the Ghost Leopards. 
Nesta cheered as Andras blocked Keir Hewn’s attack. Lucien swept in, stealing the puck from Keir, and passed it across the ice to Cassian. Cassian bluffed and wove his way through the Hydras’ defensemen. 
“C’mon, Cass, c’mon,” she chanted, her hands clasped together. 
Beron Falls raced to block Cassian, but Cassian passed the puck to Kallias just in time. Kallias dribbled the puck expertly. 
“Please, Kallias, make this shot,” Rhys implored from the seat behind Nesta’s. 
Kallias skated towards the goals, and lifted his stick to shoot. 
Then, the ice erupted in shouts, the umpire blowing the whistle continuously. 
“What just happened?” Gwyn asked but no one had an answer to give her. Nesta just sighed, dropping her face into her hands until she felt Elain tugging at her shoulder. Her eyes followed Elain’s pointed finger to see the jumbotron showing a replay. Andrew Amaranth, the Hydras’ left winger, had come up to Kallias from behind. He grabbed his stick and kicked the back of his calf with the blade of his skates, causing Kallias to fall. 
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Nesta shouted.
“He’s actually unhinged,” Azriel agreed. 
The umpire called for a yellow and a ten-minute time out.
“It should be a red card,” Gwyn hissed and Nesta loudly agreed. 
The game continued in such a fashion, with the Hydras playing as dirty as possible without getting red cards. 
The game was still tied with five minutes remaining in the third period. 
“We can’t go into overtime,” Azriel muttered to himself, “All our players are getting tired and they’re bound to actually get injured from these fouls.”
“Better overtime than a loss,” Rhys replied.
Nesta looked down at her hands. Her nails had been bitten down to the nub over the course of this game. 
Winning the Fionn Cup was a lifelong dream of Cassian’s. He had worked hard for this. He’d given his life to this sport for years, training every day for hours on end, no matter how tired he was. He studied strategy, honed his body, and worked with his team to figure out how to play into everyone’s individual strengths.
But it was more than that. 
In many ways, the sport had also saved Cassian. It had given him direction and a sense of purpose at a time when he’d felt lost. It had given him a team, when he’d only ever felt alone. It had provided him an alternative to the path he’d thought he was destined for — a path that led to nothing but more despair, where he would just get by, numbly passing through every day and surviving by the skin of his teeth. Ice hockey had opened up a whole new world for him and allowed him to dream of a different future for himself. It had given him hope, showing him a way out of the cycle of sadness that he’d imagined he would be trapped in forever. 
The world had once branded him as useless, as broken, as less than nothing. As he was tossed around from foster home to foster home, sleeping on the street among the trash, the word worthless sank deeper and deeper into his skin. 
Ice hockey was the hand that had reached out and pulled him to his feet, getting him off the ground, out of the shadows and the litter and the endless despair. It had dusted him off and pulled him into the light, where he could get warm and grow and sparkle as he was meant to. 
Now, Nesta wanted the world to acknowledge that Cassian was a champion. She wanted the world to know they’d been wrong to ever dismiss him as anything less than magnificent. She wanted him to win the Fionn Cup and stand proudly in the spotlight, knowing the world now looked up to him. More than anything, she wanted him to know that he was worthy, that he was precious, that he was important. 
“Oh, fuck, yes!” Azriel shouted. Nesta would have raised an eyebrow at him — the ever-brooding, silent and mysterious Azriel — shouting so enthusiastically, if she hadn’t been so caught up in the game.  
Kallias had stolen the puck from Dagdan Maeve and was racing towards the goal. Just as he crossed the center line, the Hydra’s defensemen, Beron and Nolan, closed in on him. Nesta watched as Kallias attempted to fake them out, then made a sharp turn to get away from them, all to no avail. Beron finally caught up to him and moved to steal the puck. With Nolan guarding Kallias’ other side, there was nowhere for him to move, no space for him to pass.
“Oh, I can’t watch,” Rhys hissed, wincing. 
Nesta pressed her lips together, hoping for a miracle, when suddenly the puck disappeared. Kallias had somehow managed to pass it through the narrow gap between Beron and Nolan’s sticks and had hit the puck with such strength that neither of them could move to stop it in time. Cassian received the pass and skated towards the goal. Beron, Nolan, and even some of the forwards moved to stop him, but Nesta knew they wouldn’t make it in time. Not when Cassian was speeding forward, moving like the wind as he skated across the ice. 
Nesta leaned forward in her seat as a feeling swelled up inside her. It was a mix of anticipation, nervousness, hope, fear, pride, and something else — something that made her feel like her heart was in her throat and made her pray that Cassian would score but know she would be there by his side no matter what happened. She had been feeling it for so long now, but had never voiced it — never put words to the feeling for fear that it would shatter the precious thing they’d built. But now Nesta knew it wasn’t something that could be so easily destroyed. No, it didn’t matter if Cassian won or lost, or even got injured. It didn’t matter if Cassian got traded to a team in a different city or Nesta had to switch ballet companies. No matter what, through the ups and the downs, they would be there for each other, helping to shoulder the emotional load. 
As Cassian's hockey stick hit the puck, Nesta wondered why she had been waiting so long when it was so clear what this feeling was. If she was being honest, she’d known it when Cassian dove into the water for her necklace, had known it when he’d brought her to Windhaven, had known it even the first time she’d sat in these seats, cheering Cassian on as he played. 
Cassian’s love was loud. It was in the romantic dates he planned, the surprises and gifts and hugs he showered her with, the weekends when he could sleep in but woke up anyway to make her pancakes. No, he hadn’t said the words either, but his protective arm around her during dinner with his friends and the vulnerable look in his eyes as he prepared a fusion meal that combined their cultural cuisines said all that was needed. 
Nesta’s love was quiet. It was in the fridge restocked with Cassian’s favorite foods, the ways she tended to his injuries after a match, and carefully planned meaningful gifts for his birthday. No, she hadn’t said the words, but she knew that he knew how she felt. 
But now, as the puck flew towards the goal, Nesta wanted to love just as boldly as Cassian. She wanted to show the world how lucky she was to be with him, but more importantly, she wanted Cassian to feel how much she cared about him. She wanted him to know that she was proud to be his. For him, she’d shout their love from the rooftops. She’d give him the whole universe if she could, because the world had been so unkind to him and yet he’d still managed to become the most incredible person in it. She could only offer him her heart, however, and hope that he would find it worthy of keeping. 
The puck grazed the goalie’s glove and Nesta held her breath. The goalie stretched out his fingers to grab it but it flew past him. 
“GOAL!” 
The entire stadium erupted into screams. Cheers of pure joy came from the Ghost Leopards’ side, louder than ever before. Nesta watched as Gwyn, Azriel, Elain, and Rhys jumped up and hugged each other.
Nesta could only stand up in silence, too consumed with her feelings to utter a single sound. For what sound could encapsulate this all-encompassing joy and pride? She looked down at the rink. Cassian’s teammates were all piled up around him in a massive group hug. And in the middle of it all, Cassian was there, beaming. His eyes lifted and met hers. She was grinning, wider than ever before in her life, and lifted her hands to make a heart. 
Cassian’s eyes turned huge. He took a deep breath. 
Perhaps he would have responded in kind, but he was obstructed from Nesta’s view as another teammate jumped to hug him and then the coach yelled at them that the game was restarting. Cassian shot Nesta one last, loaded glance before skating back to his position.
It was all a blur after that. The last few minutes of the match passed without any change.  Both teams’ offenses and defenses were equally matched, and the puck passed between them with no chances to score. When the buzzer rang out, everyone sprung to their feet. 
Nesta cheered, not giving a shit that her voice would be hoarse the next day with how loudly she was screaming. Azriel was jumping up and down like a child — she’d never seen him so overtly joyous. Rhys had tears of joy pouring down his cheeks. Gwyn and Elain were hugging. 
After the awards ceremony, all the interviews, and a rowdy celebration with the team, Cassian finally joined them. 
The second they caught sight of him, they rushed towards him. All five of them reached him at the same time and jumped on him, crushing him as they hugged him and showered him with compliments and congratulations.  
Cassian laughed boisterously. 
“I can’t believe it! I’m friends with a Fionn Cup Champion,” Gwyn gushed.
“Oh, so now we’re friends?” Cassian teased.
Gwyn answered with a playful shove that pushed Cassian back toward Azriel. Az wrapped his arms around Cassian, trapping him.
He pressed a kiss to the side of Cassian’s head as the latter squirmed. 
“Sorry Nes, I’m keeping him,” Azriel joked, tightening his grip as Cassian tried to shake him off. 
“Take him,” Nesta grinned. “He snores.” 
“I do not!” 
Cassian’s protest went ignored.
“Hmm,” Azriel pretended to muse. “But then I could have a real-life Fionn Cup Champion in my room. The price of the noise-canceling headphones will be worth it.”
Nesta shrugged. “I’d be surprised if he fit through your door, now that his ego is going to get even bigger.” 
“True, true. I’d hate for his massive head to break my roof.”
“Hello? I thought you’re supposed to be nice to Fionn Cup winners,” Cassian pouted.
Gwyn laughed. “Nice? Cassian, it’s like you don’t even know us.”
“I can be nice,” Rhys protested.
Everyone proceeded to burst out laughing.
“Okay, fine,” he acquiesced. “I’m a demon just like the rest of you.” 
“That’s right,” Nesta grinned. “Accept your true nature and join our pit of darkness.”
Gwyn laughed evilly, “Mwahahaha!”
Nesta lifted her left hand, which Gwyn promptly high-fived. 
“Okay, anyway,” Elain interrupted, “Cassian, are you hungry? You must be tired after that amazing game.”
“Wow, thank you for being so considerate, Elain,” he said, extending her name pointedly. “I am actually pretty hungry and tired and sore after the game.” 
He turned his head to glare at Azriel, who was still holding him.
Az merely rolled his eyes. “Aw, poor baby. Does the little Fionn Cup Champion have a boo-boo?”
“Maybe he needs Nesta to kiss them better,” Gwyn suggested, not bothering to hide her smirk.
“Are you gonna tend to his wounds?”  Rhysand asked. “Nurse him to health?”
“I guess that depends on what it is that he’s hungry for,” Nesta replied with a wink.
They all burst out laughing a second later.
“Wow, you’re all so immature,” Cassian sniffed. “Elain is the only person fit for polite company.”
Rhysand glanced around. “What polite company?”
“Oh, no,” Azriel exclaimed. “We’re blaspheming! Now that Cassian’s won the Cup, we have to refer to him by his proper title: His Highness Sir Cassian of Illyrian.”
“I’m so sorry, my Lord,” Nesta added with a curtsey. “Please, forgive our disrespect.”
“Regency romance,” Gwyn fake-coughed into her elbow. 
“Of course, m’lady,” Cassian winked, “you’re forgiven. Although you may have to be punished for your transgressions.” 
Azriel pretended to gag. “Please, save the foreplay for the bedroom.”
“My poor, innocent ears,” Rhysand groaned. “I’ll never recover.”
Nesta turned to him. “Right, because you’ve never made out with my baby sister in public.” Then, she smirked. “Although, maybe you are innocent if that was too much for you. I mean, how vanilla are you?”
“Cassian,” Elain interrupted. “Do you want to go eat dinner at a restaurant or something?”
“That sounds amazing! How about the Greek place on 10th Avenue?” Cassian replied.
“Oh fine,” Rhys rolled his eyes playfully, “We’ll get food.” 
“I am actually really hungry, too,” Gwyn agreed.
“Well, if Gwyn is hungry, then we gotta go eat now!” Nesta declared.
Azriel nodded, his expression serious.
Cassian sighed. 
“I’ll meet you guys there,” Cassian called out as he walked towards his car with Nesta, “Or not. It’s also fine if you get lost on the way.” 
Azriel responded by raising a choice finger. 
The mirth was still in the air as Nesta closed the car door on the passenger’s side. 
“I can drive if you want,” she joked as Cassian slammed his door shut. Nesta was a notoriously reckless driver. She hated driving unless she had to, and Cassian loved driving, so it usually worked out perfectly. 
He laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to live.” 
The car got quiet as the laughter faded. It filled instead with an intimate intensity.
Cassian turned slightly to buckle his seatbelt. 
Nesta reached over and placed a hand on his cheek. Cassian inhaled sharply and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her thumb caressed his cheek. 
“Cassian,” she whispered. She knew the look in her eyes said it all already, but it had said it for so long and she’d never once let her tongue speak it. But Cassian — brilliant, beautiful, splendid Cassian who had been hurt far too much by the world — deserved to hear them aloud. It scared her for too many reasons to count, but if ever there was anyone worth confronting that fear for, it was this man who sat next to her in all his marvelous glory. 
His eyes were open — vulnerable, in a way he always was with her. Sometimes she wondered whether she deserved to be allowed to handle his precious heart that too many had tried to shatter. What if she dropped it or dented it with her harshness? But he entrusted her with it anyway. 
She took a deep breath. Then, she let it out, alongside the words she’d been holding in for so long.
“I love you.”
Cassian’s eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth to reply, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Not a single word escaped despite his attempts, but Nesta understood and just smiled, her eyes shining with joy. 
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to respond.”
Cassian looked frustrated at himself as a tear rolled down his cheek. “But I- I do. I-” He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. 
Nesta knew that those three words were not ones Cassian had heard very much in his life. Shirina had likely been the first to say those words to him in his memory, and that hadn’t been til his teen years. Cassian’s mother had most likely loved him, but Cassian’s memories of her were sparse. 
Enalius certainly loved Cassian, but Nesta was just as certain that he would not say it out aloud. Enalius showed his love through his coaching, his cheering, and the letters he’d send from all over the world. 
Ayla, Rhysand, and Azriel also loved Cassian and weren’t shy about it these days, although none of them were particularly vocal about it either. They preferred to show it through gifts and hugs and jokes and advice. When they had met, however, they had all been preteens who wouldn’t have been caught dead saying the words ‘I love you’.
Cassian had certainly had flings and girlfriends in the past. Nesta didn’t know the details of all of his past relationships, but she could easily guess that those words had seldom or, more likely, never been exchanged.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t need to say anything right now.” 
And then, just because she could — because she now had the freedom to say it without being caged by fear — she added, “I love you, Cassian.” 
Cassian answered with a kiss that said, ‘I love you more than words can ever express.’
__________
Present day
“I was such a mess,” Cassian recalled fondly. “Rhys and Az laughed at me for bawling so much.” 
“I remember Gwyn saying that she could take the trophy if it was making you so sad,” Nesta added. 
“Nah, I think I’ll keep it,” he laughed. Then, he added, “I love you.” 
“Are you talking to me or the trophy?” 
“Oh, the trophy, for sure.”
“Oh, good, just wanted to make sure.”
They grinned at each other.
“You have no idea how I felt when I saw you make that heart that day,” he said. “I mean, I was already elated because of the goal I’d just scored, but that couldn’t even compare to how I felt when I looked up at you. I think my heart literally skipped a beat.” 
“Better visit a cardiologist then,” Nesta answered lightly.
Cassian flicked her nose. She shrieked loudly in return.
“You know what you sound like?” Cassian tapped a photo in the middle, which was surrounded by doodles of musical notes.
Nesta mock-gasped. “Excuse you, I wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re right, you were worse.”
__________
Three years ago
“What’s that?” 
Nesta pointed towards a large, lumpy black bag resting against Cassian’s bedroom wall. 
“Oh, sorry, I was practicing earlier and forgot to put it away.” Cassian moved the bag to his closet. “It’s my guitar.”
Nesta placed her hand on Cassian’s wrist before he could shut the closet. 
“You play guitar?” 
“Yeah, it’s something I picked up when living with Shirina. I’m not a pro or anything, but it’s a fun hobby, you know.” 
“Wow, would you… could you play something for me?”  
Cassian seemed surprised but nodded, pulling the guitar back out of the closet. 
He sat down on the floor, his back resting against the bed. “What do you want me to play?”
Nesta sat down beside him. “Anything you want. Just play me something you enjoy playing.”
Cassian absently strummed the guitar a few times, deep in thought.
“Alright, sweetheart. Here we go. This song is called la rosa del principe.” Cassian closed his eyes and started playing. 
Nesta watched him with bright eyes, mesmerized. 
After a while, he started singing. His deep voice complemented the melody he was strumming. His singing was nice, but it was the passion in his voice that warmed Nesta’s insides. 
“Wow,” Nesta whispered when the song ended. 
Cassian chuckled. “Shirina loved that song. She’s the one that signed me up for some guitar lessons, you know. She taught me the lyrics to la rosa del principe when I told her I didn’t know them. She was always humming the melody when she was cooking or doing chores or whatever. I think it was a song her mom liked, so it reminded her of her childhood.”
“Does it remind you of your childhood?”
Cassian took a moment to contemplate his answer. “It reminds me of Shirina, and how kindly and lovingly she treated me. That wasn’t really a common theme in my childhood, you know, but I suppose you could say it reminds me of some of the best parts of my childhood.”
Nesta nudged his shoulder with hers comfortingly. He gently pushed back against her in a silent gesture of gratitude. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. 
Then, Nesta pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “Could you teach me?” 
Cassian swallowed roughly and nodded. 
“The lyrics are kind of complicated, since it’s not in English, but I can just teach you the chorus for now if you want.”
“Sure,” she smiled.
Cassian spoke the lyrics slowly. Nesta tried to repeat after him, though she didn’t do the best job judging by Cassian’s chuckles. 
“Close. It’s tramonto, not tremare,” he corrected. 
“What do the lyrics mean?” Nesta asked. 
“The song is a love letter to a rose. It’s a metaphor for loving something so delicate and impermanent,” he explained. “The song is from the point of view of this guy who is so powerful — he’s a prince, he can travel across galaxies, he can do whatever he wants — but he feels so powerless because he knows he can’t control what happens to this rose that he loves. And even though he’s rich and powerful, he gets lonely a lot and his rose is his only companion so he dreads the thought of leaving it or having it disappear.”
“That sounds kind of tragic.”
“I guess so, but it’s not sad per se. It’s more like a reminder of the importance of love rather than materialistic things, and not taking your loved ones for granted.” 
He kissed her cheek. 
Nesta smiled. “That’s beautiful.”
Cassian hummed in agreement. “It’s such a Shirina song. She loved songs with morals like that, that remind you to appreciate what you have. She was so down-to-Earth, even though her husband was one of the richest, most powerful people around here. It’s…” He trailed off with a sigh. 
“I’m glad you met her,” Nesta said quietly after a moment. “She sounds like a great person and I’m so happy you had her in your life.”
“Yeah, me too.” He took a deep breath. “I wish you could’ve met her. I think… I think she would have loved you.” 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They sat quietly for a moment. Then, Cassian grinned mischievously. 
“Cas! What the fu-” yelped Nesta as he lifted her up. 
He placed her between his legs with a huff of laughter. She leaned back into him, her back pressing against his front. 
Cassian placed the guitar in her lap. 
“Alright, it’s time for you to learn how to play this magnificent instrument,” he declared. 
“Okay, but I’m just warning you, I don’t really have experience playing instruments.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m just here to help you learn some basics. Besides, you’re a dancer so you have some experience with rhymes and stuff. How bad could you be?”
Holding her hands in his, he demonstrated how to hold the guitar and how to strum a basic chord. 
“You got it!” Cassian cheered as Nesta played a C chord that didn’t sound half bad. 
“Ok, so then,” Cassian moved their hands to a different position. “Use your pointer finger to hold down this string. Good! Your middle finger holds this one and your ring finger holds this one.” 
He continued his explanation of different chords and strumming patterns. 
“So, basically, you just hold down different strings and strum up and down for different notes, right?” Nesta asked as he finished.
Cassian chuckled. “Basically, yeah.”
“Alright.” Nesta wiggled her hands free from Cassian’s grasp and took a dramatic deep breath. “It’s time. I’m going to play.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to play? I haven’t taught you how to play la rosa del principe yet.”
She shrugged. “I’m just going to let my imagination and inspiration guide me.” 
“Uh, I’m not sure that’s going to turn out-”
A jumbled chord cut him off. 
“Um-” 
What followed next was the most chaotic, screechy minute of guitar playing Cassian had ever heard. The torture likely would have continued for longer, since he didn’t have the heart to stop Nesta, if they hadn’t been interrupted by the Cassian’s bedroom door slamming open.
Azriel yelled, “Cassian! I think a cat is dying in your ro- oh, hey Nesta.”
“Hey Az!” she replied, beaming at Cassian’s roommate until she registered his words. “Wait, what? You think I sound like a dying cat?” 
Azriel took a step back, prepared to run away, as Nesta stood up and placed the guitar in Cassian’s lap. 
“Well, you know, uh, it’s good to practice and all, but we don’t want noise complaints from our neighbors, or allegations of animal abuse so…” Az smirked.
“Wha- animal- Get back here you little-” Nesta sprinted down the hallway, chasing after a cackling Azriel. 
Cassian was still sitting there, laughing, when the two of them ran back into the room. 
“Save me, Cass!” Azriel pleaded as he tried to hide behind his friend. 
Nesta smirked. “You really think you can use my boyfriend against me like this?”
“He was my friend first!” Azriel gripped his sleeve.
Nesta rolled her eyes. 
“Please Cassian,” she said in an airy voice. She looked up at him through her lashes and gently tugged on his sleeve. 
He followed her lead without even thinking, until Azriel muttered, “Traitor.”
“Hey, wait-” Cassian interjected, coming to his senses.
Nesta stuck her tongue out at Az. “He loves me.” 
Whatever Cassian could have said on Azriel’s behalf dissipated when her eyes softened as they met his. 
Even Azriel’s over-the-top gagging noises couldn’t ruin the moment as Nesta smiled at him and murmured, “Can you teach me how to play la rosa del principe later?” 
“We’ll see,” Cassian replied with a smile, knowing full well that he’d cave into her demands, no matter the cost to his ears.
__________
Present day
“I love that you wanted to learn how to play guitar for me.” Cassian’s eyes were warm and full of mirth. “Even if playing music isn’t exactly your strong suit.” 
Nesta placed a hand over her heart. “How dare you suggest such a thing.” 
Her stern demeanor gave way to playfulness as she winked, “I guess you’ll just have to sing and play music for me while I dance.”
“Exactly. You see, Nes, we complement each other perfectly.”
“A match made in heaven,” she agreed with a laugh. 
“Honestly, though, it meant a lot to me that you wanted to hear me play,” Cassian said when they stopped laughing, “and that you wanted to learn.”
“It meant a lot to me that you were willing to share such a personal song with me,” Nesta answered, “and that you were willing to be so open with me without prompting. It was like a sign, you know, that our relationship was actually real and meaningful to you, too. Of course I already knew that but, like, I guess it just hit home right then.” 
“Yeah, I know what you mean. In that moment, I also felt how easy it was to be open and talk about anything and everything with you.”
“You see?” Nesta winked, gesturing between them. “We’re made for each other.”
She glanced down at the pictures between them. 
“At least I don’t need to put up with Az insulting my musical talents anymore, now that you don’t live together.”
“Talents?” Cassian coughed. 
Nesta shot him a warning glare before continuing, “I’m so glad I don’t need to hear him complaining or interrupting us anymore. That was the real reason I asked you to live with me, you know — so I wouldn’t have to hear his whining.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” he replied. He leaned closer to her. “It was all part of my plan, Sweetheart.”
__________
Two years ago
“Don’t mind me, I just need to get to the kettle.”
Nesta and Cassian sprung apart at Azriel’s words. 
Azriel, with a bored expression, walked past the couple into the kitchen and filled water in the kettle. 
Cassian hastily redid his fly, clearing his throat a few times. Nesta, blushing furiously, scrambled to hook her bra and do up the buttons on her shirt. 
Azriel turned back around, leaning back against the counter as he waited for the water to boil. He reached into his back pocket for his phone, but noticed Nesta’s expression and rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, Nesta, chill. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 
Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” he growled. 
Azriel shook his head in exasperation. “How many times have I walked in on you two making out — hell, how many times have I walked in on you two fucking in common spaces? At this point, I’m immune to all this.” He waved his hand at Nesta’s half-open shirt and Cassian’s bare chest. 
Cassian slipped his shirt over his head. 
“Really?” Nesta asked, arching a perfectly angled eyebrow and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Cassian elbowed her and she giggled, buttoning up the rest of her shirt. 
“Az-” Cassian began, annoyance coloring his tone.
“No,” Azriel interrupted firmly. “If you don’t want me to walk in or interrupt you or whatever, go do whatever you want in your room. I’ve never once complained about the noise, even when I have to put up with your loud-ass moans and screams. But I have the right to make tea in my own house if I want to.” 
Cassian narrowed his eyes. His stance changed unconsciously, gearing up for a fight. He opened his mouth to deliver a biting retort. 
“You’re right, Az,” Nesta interjected before the situation could escalate any further. “We’re sorry.”
Azriel was silent, his eyes fixed on Cassian. The latter let Nesta pull him towards his bedroom. 
About a week later, Cassian and Nesta were once again interrupted. This time, Azriel crunched loudly on his popcorn as he walked into the living room.
Cassian sent him a questioning glare as Nesta scrambled to cover herself.
“What?” Azriel replied, unfazed. “I was gonna watch TV, but, well, it seems like there’s a show right here.”
“Look-”
“C’mon, Cass.” Nesta sprung up from the couch, dressed in Cassian’s shirt, and took her boyfriend’s hand. “I needed to talk to you about something, anyway.” She winked at him and whispered, “I got a little side-tracked and forgot.”
Cassian shot Az a dirty look as he exited the room. 
“Did you actually need to talk about something,” Cassian asked with a smile as he sat down on his bed and placed Nesta on his lap, “or did you just want to distract me?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. 
Nesta laughed lightly. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always lie to manipulate you.” 
He widened his eyes in false disbelief. “Really?”
She shook her head with a grin. “Why would I when I can manipulate you just as well with the truth?”
“Ooh, you saucy witch,” Cassian joked.  
They both laughed.
Nesta pressed a hand to Cassian’s cheek to stop him as he leaned in to kiss her.
“I do actually want to talk about something.”
He leaned back and cocked his head. “What’s up?”
The twinkle in Nesta’s eyes dimmed.
“It’s my apartment.” She swallowed. “My landlord is raising the rent.” 
“Again?” he replied, alarmed. It had only been four months since the last time her rent had increased.
She nodded. “Yeah. And it’s not… I mean, it would be ridiculous for me to stay there, even if I managed to afford it. It’s definitely not worth the new rent.”
“So you want to move?” 
“Yeah.” 
Cassian seemed confused by her nervous tone. “Alright, well, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll help you with all your stuff, and I know a guy with a moving truck. It’ll all be okay. We’ll find you a way better place to live.” 
He gave her an encouraging squeeze and smile that she didn’t return.
“Uh, well, um. Actually, I was wondering if…” Nesta rolled her lips.
Cassian frowned, concerned by Nesta’s hesitant tone.
“Could I- I mean, I already spend so much time at your place,” she continued, “and I stay here a lot and we- um. Since I have to get a new place…”
“Of course you can stay here while you look for a new place!” Cassian replied.
“Oh!” Nesta sounded surprised. “No, I- I mean, thank you. But, uh, that’s not really what I was gonna…” She shook her head, annoyed at her own incoherence. “That’s really sweet of you, Cass.”
Cassian gave her a long look, trying to decipher her thoughts. “Are you trying to find a place on this block? I can try to get the inside scoop if that’s what you were asking.”
“No, no, that’s not what I-” She took a deep breath and then looked into Cassian's eyes. “Would you want to live with me?”
Cassian blinked. “Oh! Oh, I-” He started to grin. Then, he blinked again, and his face fell. “Oh, uh, I…”
“It’s totally fine if not!” Nesta quickly backtracked. “I know you already signed this lease and stuff, and I can definitely just move-”
“No, it’s- I-” It was Cassian’s turn to take a deep breath. “Nesta, I would love to live with you and I’m honored that you asked me and I’m- I’m so, so happy that you want to live with me. But, well, I just don’t know if it will work out, considering.” He shot a glance towards the door. 
Nesta got up from Cassian’s lap. “Oh.” She looked away from him as she gathered her clothes off the floor, trying to disguise her hurt. “Um, okay. Yeah. I get it.” Her thoughts spiraled as she changed out of Cassian’s shirt.
“Nes! Nesta, I…” Cassian seemed to be at a loss for words. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah,” she replied half-heartedly after a beat. 
“Nes, I just…” he sounded frustrated. “You know how things have been lately, with Az. As much as I… I don’t think it’s realistic to think that he’d be okay with it, and of course I’d talk to him beforehand but, like, it is his place too and…”
She gave a noncommittal hum in reply.
The room was drenched in tense silence.
“Can you just be honest?” Nesta said finally, puncturing the tension. “If you don’t want to move in with me, just say it. I understand you’re renting this place with Az, but he isn’t unreasonable. We both know that if you talked about it, he’d be cool with it. Maybe he’d ask you to wait for a bit, until the end of this lease or whatever, but he wouldn’t stop you. So just tell me why you don’t want to live with me, because I- I thought we were… that this was…”
“I am being honest,” Cassian frowned. 
She gave an irritated sigh. 
“No, really, I am,” he insisted. “You were there with me in the living room, weren’t you? Didn’t you see how pissed he was? I guess maybe it wasn’t- Az isn’t the type to yell or anything. That quiet, passive-aggressive type shit is how he expresses his annoyance.”
“So?” Nesta bit back. “If anything, I would have thought he’d be glad if we weren’t here as often.”
“Exactly! I don’t think we should spend more time here.”
Nesta paused. “What?”
“I know you and Az do get along,” he said, “but I really don’t think he’d be fine with you moving in here.”
“Here? Wait, you thought- Oh. Oh!” Nesta brightened visibly.
“What?” Cassian seemed bewildered by her sudden change in mood. 
“Cassian, I wasn’t asking to move in here,” she laughed. “I was asking you to move in with me at a new place we’ll find together.”
Cassian’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Yes, of course, I’d love that! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I thought- but- yes!”
Nesta grinned. “I should’ve been clearer, sorry about that.”
“No, no, it’s on me.” His face slowly spread into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to work on communicating better if we’re gonna live together, huh?”
“I guess so,” she beamed.
Nesta embraced Cassian tightly. 
“We’re living together!” she whispered excitedly.
He hugged her back. “Yes, we are,” he replied just as thrilled.
__________
Present day
“I can’t believe we were so stupid,” Nesta laughed.
“I know right?” Cassian looked down at the photo once more. “No, but seriously, I was so elated when we moved into this place.”
Nesta smiled fondly. “Yeah, me too. I smiled for, like, 48 hours straight, even though we had to carry all those boxes and,” she paused dramatically, “unpack.” She shuddered. 
“Ah, yes, unpacking — the harshest of struggles.”
“I’m so glad you understand.”
“Oh, no, I don’t mind unpacking, but well,” Cassian ran a hand through his hair suavely, “some people are just built different.”
Nesta flipped him off playfully.
“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be jealous,” he replied consolingly, “I have my own weaknesses. Like, I hate packing.”
She huffed. “Cass-”
“What? Oh, c’mon, what’s the point of my trauma if I can’t joke about it?” 
She shook her head with a chuckle. “So you’re saying that all that trauma was just character development so you could increase your humor stats?”
Cassian pointed finger guns at her. “Cha-ching! Now you get it.” 
Nesta laughed. 
She looked around, still awed by the beautiful display Cassian had set up for her. She picked up a rose petal and admired its color and scent. As she fiddled with it, she was suddenly struck by a thought. 
“Where are Ara and Lina?” 
“They’re with Em,” Cassian said reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean all this stuff up before they get back.”
“Oh, they love being at Emerie’s place. They get along so well with Siph, it’s crazy.” Nesta paused, struck by another thought. “Wait, but why did you ask her to watch them? I mean, why did you organize this whole-”
“Remember when we got them?” Cassian interrupted, pointing to another polaroid. “They used to be so tiny! It’s crazy how much they’ve grown.”
Nesta cocked her head, confused by Cassian ignoring her question. Before she could continue her line of questioning, however, her eyes landed on the photo he was indicating and she got sidetracked. 
“Oh my gosh, yeah,” she breathed as she reminisced. “I can’t believe we thought we were going to walk into the shelter without adopting a pet.”
“I can’t believe we told the landlord that we didn’t care about the pet policy because we were never going to get one,” he answered. 
“We’re so lucky we accidentally got an apartment that allows pets,” she agreed. 
“I’ll never forget the look on Cresseida’s face when we told her,” Cassian added. 
She replied, “She made sure we’d never forget. She was saying ‘I told you so’ for months.”
__________
One year ago
 “We’ll stop by for a bit, but we’re not adopting any pets,” Nesta repeated for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.
“Okay,” Cresseida answered with a knowing smirk, “but it’s also okay if you change your mind.”
Cresseida, Emerie’s girlfriend, ran a pet shelter with her best friend, Nuala. She had invited all of Emerie’s friends to stop by anytime, saying that she and the animals enjoyed having company. 
Nesta and Cassian had resisted at first, since they weren’t looking for pets and, in Nesta’s words, “weren’t the pet type”. Neither of them had ever owned a pet before. While they respected people who loved their pets, they also enjoyed making fun of those who dressed up in matching outfits with their pets for Halloween and talked about their pets as though they were their children. Also, while Nesta didn’t dislike animals per se, she also didn’t like them enough to feel any desire to live with one 24/7, let alone take care of one. Cassian liked animals well enough but he’d had some bad experiences with stray dogs when he was a kid. When they visited friends who owned big dogs who would greet visitors by pouncing on them or barking excitedly, Cassian would always plaster a fake smile on his face, but she’d feel him flinch.  
However, when Emerie used her puppy-dog eyes and pleaded with Nesta to just go once to support her girlfriend’s work, she’d caved and agreed to visit. Cassian and Gwyn — both of whom had yet to visit the shelter — came along with her, saying they should all just get it over with together. 
“This side of the shelter has dogs,” Cresseida said as they walked in, “and this side has cats. There are also some other animals in the back section. Feel free to walk around and ask me if you have any questions. Right now, most of the animals are in their individual kennels and the kennel doors are locked but let me know if you want to play with any of them.” 
“Alright, thanks,” Nesta replied.
She and Cassian shared a look. Both of them wanted to humor Cresseida, who was a great person and also the best girlfriend Emerie had (at least in Nesta’s opinion), but they both knew they wouldn’t be interested in any animals. They would just wander around the shelter until an appropriate amount of time had passed and they could politely leave. 
“Ooh, a kitten!” Gwyn exclaimed, grabbing Nesta’s hand and pulling her into the cat section.
Meanwhile, Cassian followed Cresseida into a different area.
 “Oh my gosh, this baby is only 12 weeks old,” Gwyn cooed at the striped tabby cat. “Isn’t she adorable?”
“She is cute,” Nesta admitted, but Gwyn had already moved on.
“Wow, this cat has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen! Oh, and look at this one! Do you see the face he’s making?”
Nesta laughed and followed her friend, nodding along to Gwyn’s excited commentary. 
Finally, Gwyn came to a halt with a gasp. She kneeled down wordlessly in front of an orange kitten, who blinked back at her sleepily. Nesta kneeled down next to Gwyn. She looked at the kennel in front of her. A jet-black cat was at the other corner of the kennel, hissing and growling at the young boy who was trying to attract its attention. His mother pulled him away just as the cat attempted to scratch the child through the glass. 
“Crazy feral cat,” Nesta heard the mother grumble under her breath as they walked away. 
Nesta raised an eyebrow at the cat, who regarded her with an equally judgemental expression. Nesta took a step closer to the glass. The cat did the same. 
She tuned out Gwyn mumbling something. Instead, she turned her focus to the tag on the kennel.
“Oh, wow, you still don’t have a name even though you’re eight months old, huh,” Nesta said. She had always thought it was a bit silly how pet owners talked to animals as though they could really answer, but now she found it to be the most natural thing in the world. Especially when the cat meowed in response.
Nesta cocked her head. The cat studied her for a few seconds. It stared intensely with its yellow eyes. Then, it tilted its head, copying her. 
She couldn’t help but melt. How was it possible that such a sweet cat had yet to find a home?
“Nesta! There you are!” 
Nesta jolted as Cresseida’s voice interrupted her thoughts. 
“I see you found little Miss Onyx over here,” Cresseida smiled. “I’ve never seen her be so friendly with any customers before.”
“Is her name Onyx, then?”
“Oh, no. We have tried to name her before, but she seems to hate every name we’ve tried, so we kind of gave up,” Cresseida explained. “We couldn’t keep calling her ‘the unnamed black cat’, though, so now we just refer to her by black object names.” Cresseida turned towards the cat. “Isn’t that right, Blackberry?” 
The cat hissed and retreated to the corner of her kennel closest to Nesta. 
Cresseida laughed. “See?” Then, she sent Nesta a knowing glance. “She seems to adore you.”
Nesta glanced back at the cat, who was now sitting with a paw on the glass.
“She is very cute,” she admitted. 
“She is,” Cresseida agreed. “Sadly, she’s fierce enough that she scares away most customers.”
“It’s like she’s made for Nesta!” Gwyn piped up. “I mean, look at her spunky attitude, her fierceness, her witchy vibes — since, you know, she’s a black cat.”
“I don’t have witchy vibes,” Nesta muttered.
Gwyn ignored her. “Not to mention, she’s right next to Mer,” she pointed to the orange cat, “who is my soulmate cat so our cats are destined to be best friends, just like us!”
“Wow, I didn’t- I haven’t said I’m adopting her yet,” Nesta protested.
“Yet,” Gwyn repeated, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.
Cresseida laughed. “Well, let me know if you are seriously interested in adopting Miss Obsidian. There’s a few things you would need to keep in mind for her that we should talk about.”
Nesta nodded.
“What about Mer?” Gwyn asked. “Any special care she needs that I should know about?”
“Not really. We did have her on a special diet for a bit because she was slightly malnourished when we found her but she’s at a healthy weight now.”
Nesta walked away as Gwyn and Cresseida continued their animated discussion. How was she going to convince Cassian to adopt a cat? Actually, Nesta knew that wouldn’t be an issue — Cassian would surely jump at any opportunity to make her happy. The real question was how she was going to put aside her pride and admit that she wanted to adopt the cat. She would also have to see if Cassian wanted to adopt the cat, too, and not just for her sake. It would be unfair to both Cassian and the cat to bring her into a home where only one person truly loved her. Not that Cassian wouldn’t be kind to the cat, regardless — it was just that Nesta wanted Cassian to adopt the cat because it made him happy, instead of doing it for Nesta’s sake. 
Nesta was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she walked right into someone. 
“Excuse me,” Nesta apologized. The man turned around.
“You’re excused, Nes,” Cassian replied with a wink. 
“Oh, fuck you,” she groaned, holding back a smile. 
“I know I’m hot, but you’re gonna have to wait til we get home.” 
She replied with a soft punch to his shoulder. Cassian fell to the floor dramatically. 
A bark sounded from the kennel right in front of Cassian. Nesta quickly examined Cassian for any signs of fear, but he wasn’t flinching. Instead, he tugged gently on her arm. 
“Nes,” he said with a grin as she sat down beside him, “Let me introduce you to my new friend, Lina.” 
Nesta turned to find a large golden retriever wagging her tail energetically. She was beautiful and friendly, but she also definitely weighed more than twenty kilograms and had a full set of sharp teeth. In short, she was exactly the type of dog that Cassian would usually be uncomfortable around. 
Yet, here he was, saying, “Look, I know we agreed that we were just looking around and we weren’t going to adopt any pets but look at her! Her cute paws, that gorgeous fur, and those eyes! And she’s so happy to see me! Doesn’t it just make you want to keep her forever?”
His expression said it all: he’d fallen completely in love with this dog. 
“Cassian…” 
His expression dropped. “I know taking care of a pet is a lot of work. If we did adopt her, I would walk her and figure out her food and vet stuff, but she would be living with both of us, so I would never want to adopt her if you weren’t completely on board. And having a pet would affect our lifestyle and our day-to-day lives a lot, so I understand if you’d rather not adopt her.”
“Do you want to adopt her?” Nesta blurted out. 
Cassian looked confused. 
“I mean, she’s obviously a beautiful and friendly dog, but she’s in a kennel right now,” Nesta explained. “If we adopt her, she could jump on you or bite you or scratch you. Won’t you be on edge having a dog in our apartment all the time, even if you’re tired or having a rough day?” 
“All the other dogs I’ve met make me nervous, either when they bark or pant or just by being close to me. They remind me of rough times in my childhood, when I was scared and in danger. But for some reason, Lina is different. I don’t get any of that fear or anxiety around her. In fact, it’s the opposite. She makes me feel relaxed and happy. I think she actually makes me feel safe.” Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Weird, huh?”
Nesta smiled. “I’m glad you found her. I still want you to take her for a walk before we sign anything if we’re going to adopt her.”
“Wait, but- We don’t need to adopt her just because I want to. If you don’t want a pet, you shouldn’t agree just for my sake,” he added hurriedly. Still, Nesta could see the corners of his mouth tilting up. 
“Yes, I want to adopt her! And,” Nesta continued, seeing Cassian opening his mouth to argue, “do you really think that I would ever agree to something I didn’t want to do, just for someone else’s sake?”
“Yeah, I do. I know you’re a big softie,” Cassian teased. 
She laughed. “Well, trust me, I do want to adopt a pet.”
“Of course she wants to!” Gwyn interjected, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “You should have seen her with that cat. It was like she’d found her twin flame! No offense, Cassian.”
“Wait, what cat?” he replied, befuddled. 
Nesta attempted to wave him off. “It’s nothing-”
“It’s not nothing!” Gwyn interrupted animatedly. “It’s her cat soulmate! A little ball of anger and adorable-ness, just like our little Nesta here.”
Nesta sent her friend a flat look. “Thanks a lot for that description.”
Gwyn just shrugged. “What? You know I’m right.” 
“Where can I find this cat?” Cassian asked. 
Gwyn pointed him in the right direction, telling him about all the ways in which the cat represented Nesta while pointedly ignoring Nesta’s calls of “No, it’s fine” and “You don’t need to go look at the cat” and “I don’t have spooky evil vibes!”. 
“Aww, look at her,” Cassian smiled as he crouched in front of the black cat’s kennel. 
The cat hissed in return.  
“You’re so beautiful, aren’t you? Yes, you are! Good girl!” cooed Cassian. 
The cat abruptly stopped hissing. She stared at him unblinkingly before purring quietly.
Gwyn erupted with laughter. “Wow, she really is just like Nesta, huh? Everything down to the praise ki-”
Her words were cut off as Nesta covered Gwyn’s mouth with her hand. 
“What the fuck, Gwyn! She’s a cat! That’s disgusting,” Nesta hissed in her ear. 
Gwyn licked Nesta’s palm, and used the moment Nesta recoiled as a distraction to pull her hand off. 
“I just tell it how I see it,” Gwyn declared. “And I have never once been disgusting.”
“Oh really?” Nesta replied, bringing the hand Gwyn had licked close to Gwyn’s face. 
Gwyn screeched and ran down to hide behind Cassian.
Cassian remained focused on the cat. “Oh, you’re such a sweetheart. What’s your name, baby?”
“She doesn’t have a name yet,” Nesta supplied, before bringing her licked hand around Cassian to reach for Gwyn. The redhead let out another shriek and ran. 
Nesta could see the moment Cassian melted. His posture seemed to go soft as his expression turned even more tender. 
“You don’t have a name yet, huh?” he murmured. “I guess you need a family to give you a name and a home and some love.”
She placed her non-licked hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t need to ask to know that he was thinking of his own childhood — when he’d needed a home and a family, too. 
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered, “me and your mom are going to give you so much love.”
“Cass, are you sure?” she questioned gently. She ignored how it made her feel to hear him refer to her as ‘mom’. There was too much to unpack there, and she would save it for later, after they’d finished making important decisions. 
“Look at her, Nes,” he replied. “It’s like she was made for us.”
Nesta knew it was more than just about the resemblances between her and the cat that Gwyn had pointed out. It was about how this cat hissed and growled at strangers, putting her guard up, but really was just a sweet kitten who needed some love. Both of them could relate to putting on a tough face to hide how vulnerable and hurt they really were. She knew Cassian was thinking that this cat would be a perfect addition to their lives.
“But what about Lina?” Nesta insisted. 
“You love this cat. Don’t try to deny it, I can tell.”
“That’s not an answer.” 
“I think,” Cassian said carefully, “we both love this cat and we should adopt her.”
Nesta narrowed her eyes. “And what are we doing about the fact that we both love Lina?” 
This wasn’t just about the animals, and they both knew that. 
It wasn’t that Nesta didn’t think Cassian wanted to adopt the cat — she knew he really, truly did. But she also knew that he wanted to adopt Lina. She wouldn’t let him give up on his wishes and always put her needs above his. While she appreciated the sentiment, she also knew he had a tendency to discount his own desires. She needed him to know that what he wanted mattered just as much.
Cassian let out a big breath like a deflating mattress, the fight going out of him. 
“I love Lina, I do. And I know it’s so special that I feel so safe around her — around a big dog with sharp teeth. But Nes,” his voice took on a different tone, “at the end of the day, she’s a friendly golden retriever. I’m sure a million families with white picket fences are lining up to adopt her. And this cat… I mean, she doesn’t even have a name.” 
His Adam's apple bobbed.
“I know we could love either of them, and they’d be incredible. But at least with Lina, I know she’ll find someone else to take care of her. I don’t know if this cat will find that, and she’s too…” Cassian paused to search for a word. His nose scrunched in frustration as his vocabulary failed him. “She’s too precious for me to take that chance.” 
He needed his kitten to find a home. He couldn’t risk her never finding a family — not when he had so much love he could give her. 
Nesta contemplated silently. 
“Okay,” she finally said, her eyes piercing through him as though she intended to read his heart. “If you’re sure that’s what you want to do, we’ll get this cat.”
Cassian smiled. “Look at us, being real adults. Can you believe we’re going to be parenting this cutie?”
“Parenting,” repeated Nesta with a snort. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds like we’re having a baby or something. People are going to think I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my god, you’re pregnant?” Gwyn exclaimed, reappearing next to Nesta from wherever she’d run off to. She had clearly only caught the tail end of Nesta’s sentence. 
“Wow, I’m so excited to be an aunt! Do you know the sex yet? Wait, how far along do you need to be to know that? How many months are you, by the way?” Gwyn spoke too rapidly for anyone to get a word in. “I had no idea about this! How have you been hiding the morning sickness? Or does everyone know about this already? Oh, gosh, this is so exciting!” 
Nesta stayed silent, trying to hold in her smile. Cassian just looked bewildered. 
Gwyn gave Nesta a light hug. “Oh, wow, this is crazy! Am I the first one to know? Wait, is it ok if I tell people? You can tell me if it’s still a secret, don’t worry.” 
Cassian blinked. “No, that’s-”
“Oh, perfect!” Gwyn squealed. She reached over to hug Cassian, too. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Emerie! Oh my god, and Az! His reaction is going to be insane!” 
She practically skipped down the hallway, her fingers already tapping away on her phone.
Cassian raised an eyebrow at Nesta. “What just happened?”
Nesta finally let out a laugh. “Just Gwyn being Gwyn, I suppose.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I’m actually curious to see how far this goes.” She leaned forward, pressing her side against him. “Do you think they’ll throw me a surprise baby shower?”
“Rhys is going to be so pissed I’m having a baby before him,” Cassian grinned. “It’ll be hilarious.”
“We could tell them we’re having a daughter,” Nesta added, jerking her head towards the kitten.
Cassian laughed. He stood up and stretched out his body, likely feeling a slight ache because he’d been crouching for several minutes. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This is why I love you, you mastermind.”
His lips brought with them a wave of warmth that spread through her veins.
“Time to go tell Cresseida that we are going to adopt a pet after all,” Nesta chirped. 
Cassian groaned. “How about you go tell her, since you’re the one who was looking at this cat first,” he suggested.
“But you made the final decision,” she countered. 
“Well, no, I,” Cassian wracked his brain to find an excuse, “I think you would, uh, be better at filling out the paperwork.”
“Hmm,” Nesta tapped a finger to her chin and pretended to consider his offer, “How about… you do it?”
They were saved from their squabble when Gwyn reappeared with Cresseida in tow.
“So, can I take Mer home with me today or should I set up my place to be cat-ready first?” Gwyn was saying. 
“Ah, Cresseida! Just the person we were looking for!” Cassian interjected. “Nesta wanted to ask you something.”
Nesta sent him a frigid side eye that would have sent anyone else running for the hills, but only made Cassian grin. 
“We were thinking about adopting her,” Nesta said, pointing at the cat in question, “and were wondering what we need to do to make that happen? Is there just paperwork or something else we need to do?”
Cresseida’s expression changed completely. “I knew you would all walk out of here with pets!” she exclaimed triumphantly. Then she sobered slightly. “I’m so glad you’re interested in this cat, but like I mentioned earlier, there is something you should know.” 
Nesta nodded sharply. The anticipation and anxiety started to creep up on her. Was the cat sick? Or disabled in some way? Perhaps she and Cassian, as first time pet owners, weren’t equipped to give her the care she needed. 
“When we found her, she was only about two months old,” Cresseida explained. “We’re not quite sure what happened to her mother, since she didn’t seem to be with her family. But she had already bonded to another animal. They’re still quite close. Even though they’re generally kept in separate kennels, we usually let them play with each other once or twice a day, or she’ll start to get antsy. If at all possible, it would be best not to separate them. It may be possible for her to get used to living without her bonded friend, especially if she’s in an environment where she’s well-loved and taken care of, but it would be very difficult on both of them. So if you would consider adopting both of them, that would really be for the best.”
“Like, another cat?” Nesta inquired.
“It’s not Mer, is it?” Gwyn asked, looking worried. “If it is, I guess I’m going to have to move in with Nesta and Cassian.” Her face suddenly brightened. “I can be like a live-in nanny!”
“No, it’s not Mer,” Cresseida replied, “and it’s actually not another cat. It’s quite a unique situation. We’re still not sure how these two found each other and came to be bonded, but the other animal is actually a dog.”
“Oh.” Nesta felt her heart sink. She would hate to separate the cat from the one other animal that had been with her since she was a baby, but she also couldn’t adopt a dog. She wouldn’t allow Cassian to feel unsafe in his own home. 
“We could adopt both-” Cassian began, just as she knew he would.
“No,” she cut in. She didn’t care if it made her seem like the villain in Cresseida’s eyes. “I’m sorry, we can’t.”
Her eyes shifted to the kitten once more. The cat truly was adorable. Nesta would miss her tremendously, even though they’d only just met. Still, she couldn’t separate her from the friend who’d become her family. She would have to let her go. It hurt, but she knew it was for the best.
“I don’t think we’ll adopt her after all,” Nesta said. Though she had once prided herself on hiding her true emotions from the world, she could tell that both Gwyn and Cassian instantly read the meaning behind her aloof tone. 
“Yeah, you’re right, that’s probably the right decision,” Gwyn supplied. “Adopting pets and having a baby at the same time would be really hard.”
Cassian kept silent. She knew he was itching to deny it, to demand that she adopt the cat anyway, his feelings be damned. She was glad that he knew her well enough that she would not be swayed, and that his well-being mattered more to her than anything else. 
Cresseida sighed, disappointed. “I understand,” she said, resigned. “Dogs aren’t for everyone, especially if you have a lot on your plate. This dog really is the sweetest, although if you are allergic, a golden retriever wouldn’t be the right breed.”
“Hold on, did you say a golden retriever?” Cassian interjected. “You’re not talking about Lina, are you?”
Cresseida looked surprised. “I am, actually. I assume you’ve already made her acquaintance, then?”
“Wait, you’re saying we can adopt both Lina and this cat? And they wouldn’t fight or hurt each other?” Cassian repeated, as though he couldn’t believe his ears. It sounded too good to be true.
“They do play-fight occasionally, but no, they don’t hurt each other and they get along great. But, I understand that you can’t adopt a dog,” Cresseida answered, slightly confused. 
Cassian turned to Nesta. 
“Did you hear that, Nes? We can adopt them both.” 
He was beaming. 
“They’re so perfect,” he repeated as they brought Lina and the cat home a week later, after they’d made all the necessary preparations. “It’s like we were made to find them.”
She felt like she was floating, swept up by the exuberance in his eyes.
When she watched the kitten curl up in Cassian’s lap while Lina sat beside them, a paw resting against the cat’s back, she couldn’t find a name for the feeling that bubbled up inside her. The only viable contenders — love and contentment — seemed too small to capture it all.
When Cassian later asked her what she wanted to name the cat, she looked at the life they’d built together — the bookshelves lined with hockey history books and romance novels, the kitchen counter where Cassian’s favorite chocolate lay beside her mountainous tea collection, the polaroid pictures of them stuck to the fridge with magnets, and the pets filling their home with affection — and replied, “Ataraxia.”
Peace. 
__________
Present day
“I can’t even bring Ara and Lina around Cresseida anymore,” Cassian grumbled. “She always just talks about how incredible it was that we actually believed we’d leave her shelter without a pet.”
“She’s a menace,” Nesta agreed, though her words lacked any real bite. 
They both adored Cresseida, and were delighted at how happy she made Emerie. It was only that Cresseida shared their friend group’s penchant for teasing their friend mercilessly. 
“Her cooking is amazing though, so she makes up for it,” Nesta continued. “I had no idea vegan food could taste that good until I met her.”
“Speaking of cooking…” Cassian pointed to the last photo. It was labeled ‘cooking breakfast’.
Nesta leaned in closer to inspect the image. “When was this?”
“What? You don’t remember?” Cassian gasped in mock offense.
Then, he took her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”
__________
Three months ago
Cassian awoke to the birds chirping and the smell of pancakes permeating the air. He rolled over in bed, reaching out for Nesta, only to find her side of the bed empty. 
He let out a small sigh. 
It was a Saturday morning, and his favorite thing to do on weekends when they didn’t have anything planned was to spend lazy mornings in bed with her. During the week, both of them were too busy to linger in bed. Snoozing their alarms once was the extent of their indulgence. 
But on weekends, Cassian liked to savor the feeling of Nesta lying beside him. He would lay in silence, taking it all in — the blankets warmed by their body heat, the way Nesta’s hair glowed in the morning light, the gentle pressuring of her body laying against his. Eyes half-open, he would breathe deeply and allow the peaceful contentment to fill his lungs. When Nesta woke up, there would be time for slow kisses, quiet conversations, and tender lovemaking. Their room would fill with soft but unbound laughter and playful quips. Later, they would make their way to the kitchen. One of them (usually Cassian) would cook brunch while the other did the dishes, swept the floor, or started a load of laundry. 
This morning, it seemed that Nesta had broken their usual routine. 
As Cassian rolled out of bed, his eyes caught the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was 10:05 am, far later than he usually woke up on weekends. Cassian was almost always the first to wake, generally around 8 or 9 am, and he’d lay patiently until Nesta gained consciousness around 9:30. 
Clearly, he’d been exhausted last night. It had been a long day of training, and then they’d gone out for dinner with his friends. After coming home, he and Nesta had watched a movie and then spent an hour tussling in their sheets. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. 
Cassian pulled on a pair of dark jeans and strolled out of the bedroom without bothering to find a shirt. 
He found Nesta at the stove, flipping a pancake. She looked ethereal with her long hair down and shimmering in the light that flowed through the window. 
“Morning, Nes,” he said after taking a moment to appreciate the view. 
Nesta’s long legs were bare. She was dressed only in his striped button-up shirt which ended right below her butt. As she turned towards him, he could see that she hadn’t bothered to do up all the buttons on his shirt. The V dipped deep enough that, had she been wearing a bra, lacy bits would have peeked out, but she’d clearly thrown the shirt on without it. Was she wearing any underwear?
She sent him a small smile in greeting. 
“Can’t believe you didn’t bother to wake me up,” he teased as he pulled one of the hair ties off his wrist and put his probably messy hair into a neat bun. 
“Well, it seems like I tired you out last night and you clearly needed your beauty sleep,” she shot back. 
“Are you trying to imply that I didn’t tire you out?” 
She shot him a smirk. “Well, I was up first, wasn’t I?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, even as he held back a smile. He loved this easy back-and-forth, joking banter. “I’ll have to remedy that tonight,” he declared. 
“Aww, did I bruise your little ego?” 
She moved the pancake to a plate, and poured more batter into the pan. 
“There’s nothing little about me,” he joked before walking up behind her and gently wrapping his arms around her. He was careful to steer clear of her arms, so that they wouldn’t accidentally touch the pan or the stove and get burned. 
He rested his head in the crook of her neck. “I missed you this morning,” he whispered. 
“Couldn’t survive a few minutes without me?” she answered. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her smile in the warmth of her tone. 
“You know I’d be lost without you,” he answered. His tone was light and humorous, but his words were no less sincere.
She let out a small, fond chuckle. “Good thing I was only making breakfast then.”
He inhaled deeply. The smell of her vanilla and jasmine conditioner mixed with the sandalwood scent that lingered on his shirt. His neck was at a slightly awkward angle, bent down to accommodate Nesta’s forward-leaning posture as she cooked, but Cassian knew he’d be happy standing like this forever. 
He stayed there for a few minutes, until Nesta stilled in his arms. He knew she needed to move in order to put the pancake on a plate and couldn’t do so with Cassian wrapped around her, but she also didn’t want him to let go. 
He waited for a heartbeat, then gave her a slight squeeze before unwinding his arms. Before pulling away completely, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her neck.
Then, he walked over to the utensil drawer to start setting the table. 
When he sat down, his eyes flickered to Nesta’s figure, waiting for her to join him. He was itching to serve himself one of the pancakes in the middle of the table and bite into deliciousness. They smelled absolutely incredible. 
However, Nesta walked over with the pan still in her hand. She plopped the pancake from her pan straight onto his plate. Unlike the other pancakes, it wasn’t shaped like a circle.
“It was misshapen, so it reminded me of your face,” she quipped as she sat down after putting her pan in the sink. 
“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his smile. The pancake was shaped like a perfect heart. 
As they dug into their food, Cassian felt the domesticity seep into him. He knew how the rest of the day would likely go. They’d wash up together, and then Cassian would head out for a run with Lina while Nesta curled up on the couch with a book. He’d come home and shower, then make her a cup of tea. Later, they’d change the bedsheets, make a list of the groceries they needed to pick up, and chat, before watching a movie or ordering takeout. They’d end up having sex on the couch or in the shower — anywhere but on their freshly changed sheets — and then fall asleep curled around each other with Cassian’s arm slung over Nesta’s waist. 
Their lives had fallen into a routine. And Cassian loved it. This peaceful life they’d built together could never be boring — not when they always filled it with so much playfulness and their jobs were filled with drama by necessity. The regularity was a blessing, not a curse. When Cassian walked through the doors to this apartment, he felt the tension of the outside world fade away. He felt at home.
He loved the life they had created together, and couldn’t imagine anything better than having mornings like this one for the rest of his life. 
The thought should have shocked him, but it did not. He’d known for a long time that this was coming, but it was only now that it had fully sunk in.
He looked across the table at Nesta and caught her eye.
“What?” she asked with a grin.
He reached over and laced his pinky with hers. 
“Nothing.” He smiled. “I love you.”
She shook her head fondly at his cheesiness, but still replied, “I love you.” 
He wanted to declare his love for her in front of the whole world, and then spend the rest of his life with her. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his life than dedicating it to loving her. 
That day, he started researching rings. 
__________
Present day
“I love you,” said Cassian. His eyes shone brightly. “I love all the moments we’ve spent together and the memories we’ve made.”
He walked around the table where the pictures lay and grasped her hands. 
“I do too.” Nesta, although still confused by their impromptu outpour of emotion, was always eager to remind Cassian of just how much she adored him. “I love you so much.”
Cassian smiled. She could see that a million thoughts were swirling in his mind, but he took a breath to focus himself.
“I love you,” he said once more, as though he couldn’t help himself, just like he had after he’d first said the words. He’d been like a child who’d never been allowed sweets who had just been given a box of chocolates — he marveled at the fact that he had love in his grasp and he gorged himself on it, basking in the delight that he could say the words whenever he wished. 
“Every minute, every second I get to spend with you is precious to me,” he continued. “Whether we’re at a party, a restaurant, a vacation, a match, or doing chores at home, every moment with you turns to gold. You made my life so beautiful and meaningful and happy, Nesta, in a way I never even imagined was possible. Even in the harshest moments, I know I’ll be okay because I get to come home to you every night. You’ve helped me learn how to live, not just survive. Because of you, I can love openly. Because of you, I can be myself without worrying that I’m too much. Because of you, I can let myself feel joy, instead of constantly worrying that it’s going to be ripped away from me. I can only hope that I can make you half as happy as you make me.”
“You make me happier than I ever thought possible,” Nesta answered. She was certain there were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. There were so many things that she could say — how the world had appeared cold and cruel, just like her reflection in the mirror, until she’d seen it all through his eyes. She would never stop being inspired by him — how was it possible for him to be so kind when the world had been so awful to him? How was it that he got wholeheartedly excited when it snowed, despite knowing the stinging pain of a cold night on the streets? His joy was infectious, and now she couldn’t help but admire the beauty in every little thing — children skipping down the sidewalk, the leaves changing color, and the birds chirping in the morning. 
Yet, she couldn’t find the words. How could she express the magnitude of her emotions for him, and just how much he’d changed her life? All she could do was look at him. 
He squeezed her hands gently and she knew he understood.
“You’ve made me a better man.” His voice was slightly raspy as emotion clogged his throat. “My life is so much fuller with you in it. We’ve made so many beautiful memories,” he said, gesturing to the pictures with one hand, “and I want to dedicate the rest of my life to making more. It would be the greatest honor to spend my life by your side. I want to fill that table with a million — a billion — more memories.”
“So, Nesta Archeron,” He released her hands. She blinked in surprise and found him kneeling before her, a small box open in his hands with something sparkling inside. “Will you marry me?”
Her gaze had gotten blurred with tears, but she blinked them away now. 
Cassian cut a stunning figure as he looked up at her, rose petals and candles glowing around him. His outfit flattered his body — the wine-red shirt showed off his muscular arms without being too tight and contrasted his skin tone well, bringing attention to his soft blush and curved lips to highlight his joy. His long hair was as glorious as usual, half of it pulled into a bun. 
Still, it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention. His beautiful hazel eyes, framed by his long, dark lashes, sparkled not only with love and joy, but also with breathtaking certainty. Unlike during that bookstore date so long ago, Cassian was secure in their love. She could see in his eyes that, even if she said no, he would not doubt their relationship for a moment. 
But of course, there was only one answer she would give to this wondrous man. He had come into her life like a fire, warming her and brightening her life in innumerable ways. 
“Yes.”
__________
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Permanent taglist: @maastrash // @cass-nes // @notmewrongbitch // @verypaleninja // @courtofjurdan // @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter // @stardelia // @laylaameersworld // @thewayshedreamed // @thatsowlmazing // @meanceclosetohell // @jungtaekwoonie-is-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @bakingandbooks3 // @grandma-noob-lord // @awesomelena555 // @ bookstantrash // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @illyrianshadowhunter // @swankii-art-teacher // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @moodymelanist // @letstakethedawn // @nestaspegasus // @superspiritfestival // @perseusannabeth // @my-fan-side // @that-golden-lyre // @emily-gsh // @champanheandluxxury // @ simpingfornestaarcheron // @duskandstarlight // @ladynestaarcheron // @sv0430 // @nesquik-arccheron // @friendswithkevin // @dontgetsalmonella // @inkedstarlight // @arinbelle // @thegreyj Nessian taglist: @makainight // @nahthanks // @cupcakey00 // @nessiantrashh // @audreycressworth // @lady-winter-sunrise // @wannawriteyouabook // @shamelessdonutkryptonite // @julemmaes
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writings-ofthe-heart · 7 months
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This came to me in a dream 😮 abt to watch tmnt :3 posting this b4 hand, thanks for reading!
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader
TW ; Angst, mention of character death, COD MWII spoilers (yes it's true) umm idk
WC ; A little over 1k
Side notes ; Not beta read we die like men, Idk if i did his character right, but i need to get good because of how popular he is 😞 anyways hope you (cry) enjoy!
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A knock on the door. Who could be doing that at four in the morning? Sleepy eyes blink open and you step out of your burrow of a bed.
"Coming!" You shout out, a small hope blooming in your stomach. Maybe it's finally the day, he promised he would come back. It's been a few months since he left, telling you,
"Now, don't worry love, it'll be an easy mission, slow and steady wins the race right?" Simon told you how his next mission might take a while, and you'll be apart longer then you've ever been. He wouldn't send letters , or messages. You knew how dangerous his military work was but you didn't know how many men wanted Ghost dead and buried. For that reason, it was like he never existed to you. Yet, traces remained, a specialty brand of tea always dormant in your cupboard, shirts too big for you hanging in the closet. You wore them often, making sure not to use all of them if not just to keep their scent as a reminder. A reminder you wouldn't dare to forget.
An older man, clad in military camo, sighed at your door as you opened it.
"Hello ma'am, sorry to bother you at such an early hour." He began, you shook your head, his body language and tone dampening the spark in your chest. It felt like flowers were blooming in your throat, making you unable to speak. You clear your throat.
"No, no, not a bother at all. Would you like to come in?" Best thing you could do was to be polite.
He nodded, walking into the house and taking his boots off. "I'm John Price, captain of the team your boyfriend, I assume was part of." He, now known as John, introduced himself as you beckened him to sit down at the table.
"Oh, yes, we're engaged, actually."
He seemed a bit astounded by that, chuckling. "I'll be damned."
"Is that unusual for him?" You sounded unsure, hands shaking the slightest bit as you poured water into the kettle. You set it to boil.
"Well, in our perspective, yes it was unusual."
The 'was' stabbed you, leaving you with no air. You quickly went to sit across from him, eyebrows furrowed.
"Why are you here, John?"
A darkness set behind his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Ma'am, I came to share some news." He seemed uncomfortable within your line of sight, your eyes burning into him. It felt like cold water being poured over your head.
"Don't.." You whispered, your heart squeezing.
"He's gone." The silence was deafening, John's low voice filling the air, "I'm sorry ma'am, Simon is dead."
You felt confused for a second, a second of denial, a second of bliss. Because Simon wouldn't do that. He promised you, promised that he would come back before your wedding day. He promised you would choose the cake, choose the theme, the colors you loved... together.
You stood up harshly, John didn't even flinch.
"No." A breathless whisper. Your heart began to split into fragments, the more he let it sink in, the more you wanted to rip your hair out, the more you wanted to throw your chair at John.
"He's not dead, John, he's not! He promised, oh God, he promised me.." Then the sobs came and you crumbled to your knees. Loud wails filled the room and you were sure the neighbours would be complaining later. You covered your mouth to mufflw your noises, hands raking down your face in disbelief.
You screamed, ragged breaths coming short and quick, continuing to cry your heart out.
John never knew what to do when he let a team members family know their loved one had died. After almost an hour of howling for Simon, your sobs had turned to weeps. The older man offered words of comfort, and in the background the kettle squealed.
"He was a good man. One of the best soldiers I knew."
You were too tired to respond, blankly looking at the ground. The kettles noise didn't faze you, so John stood. Striding to the kitchen, he shut it off and poured the water into the mugs already there. The teabags were also set in the mugs as well, he dipped one in and out before sipping it. He brought the cups to the table. John had to lift you and set you down on the chair. Your mind was reeling but, at the same time eerily empty. You couldn't think about anything but the words that left the captains lips earlier.
He's gone. That sentence repeated, again and again. He's gone. Simon Riley, your fiance, the man you loved for more than 5 years, is gone.
"He's.. he's gone." You whispered to yourself, sipping the tea. It was his favorite. Your heart clenched again, the urge to throw up strong. The mug was pushed away. John nodded.
"I'm... sorry."
You couldn't think, you could barely process his words.
"How'd it happen?" Your voice cracked, it was hoarse and raw from screaming.
"Burned. Shot and burned." Price simply replied and it made you ache. Had he no sympathy? The thought of Simon being burnt to a crisp, no longer recognizable made your pain heighten.
Did he think of you? When he felt the fire coursing through him, did he think of your smile? Your planned wedding, talks of adopting, growing old. You were eager, he was pessimistic.
But the truth is, he wanted it just as much as you did. When he was shoved into the pit, bleeding out, he thought of you. He thought of how wonderful it will be to have children, to finally say his vows. He thought how you would react when he finally came home, too delirious from bleeding to realize what was really happening.
He loved you, sometimes it was hard to tell. His guard always up, walls built of steel. But he did, that moment before his body succumbed to his injuries, he thought of how much he loved you and he didn't regret a single thing.
[reblogs are appreciated! (srsly i adore them)]
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sameschmidtdiffname · 1 month
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Split
08.19.23
Thudding, dull pain is something that reminds me I am alive
The emotions course through my veins in a way some may call sadistic
Trailing along my curved spine, I mentally picture someone there
Their face is blurred to me, their hand one I know not
Words drip from my mouth as though a leaking faucet
Our main difference being that many hear the repetitive tap against the bowl
The words that spill forth convey so much, yet those who read them realize so little
If I showed this to you, would you understand?
Would you know yourself of nights spent in unholy water, trying desperately to make up your mind
One hand grasping a razor
The other your own wrist
The mental debate one you've heard so many, too many times
Would you believe me if I told you how sore my able heart beats against the bones that are used against I and every woman?
Would you listen when I ponder how said bones resemble a grasp around us, the design effective and symbolic?
And while I let these thoughts drip from my red, swollen lips that tremble and bleed from the cracks I bite into them
Could you find Aphrodite in such an unabashed display of humanity?
Would you find beauty in the way the water spirals down my hair?
Would you take care to notice, stranger, how the color sets shame to fire, beautiful even in the artifical light?
Would you see my eyes, which I long to hear described poetically, peak between too long of bangs, tears trapped in blonde lashes that do not sit evenly
And see the rage that fuels me?
Would you find beauty in my nose as one once did
His words unlike any ever spoken to me
Held in a diary I've kept, used to decode myself and others
Would you run your hands along my body?
Not in a way to bring lust into your heart
But to tell me you see me
You feel me
Would you admire me as I admire you, stranger?
A figment created long ago when it became clear to me that when I cried, no one would come
Maybe this is why God the Father has created us
Maybe he too has spent endless nights in this porcelain trap
Tapping his head against a hollow wall
Begging for salvation
Maybe he too knows not what he did
Does God also have a father that damned him?
A mother that begged him?
Is this why he chose to send his child into the gallows?
All say mercy
I say an eye for an eye
Would you look into mine and see redemption?
Would you cup my aging face and tell me I've done nothing to cause this?
Would you press your forehead against mine and whisper the thoughts I whisper to others?
"You are not broken,
You are loved.
This world feels your warmth
And will one day allow you to exist without lessons to remind of how mortal you and I are"
In my mind, this figure takes the razor and places it away
Wrapping their arms around me
Allowing me to feel the air my lungs have refused to breathe
But in reality, my fingers are pruned and the razor taunts me
I am too weak, it knows
And I stare back, begging myself to show strength and allow myself to slip away in a crimson pond
In this pond, I dare the selfish thought of maybe being worth compared to the beauty of Ophilia
Would I be an example worthy of art then?
In my mind, the stranger carefully lifts me and wraps me in cloth that soothes my tender, self admired skin
In reality, my bones feel as though knives carve away the detested excess of my body
A body my mind knows not how to view
Mentally I lay in a soft bed
Sheets and pillows surrounding me as a stranger sings sweet songs to me
Combing through my hair
They trace shapes upon my cheeks, their touch making me smile
Physically I begin to see the water lap at the drains that prevent it from overflowing
The water and stinging tears the only warmth I'll ever deserve
I exist in two worlds
I always have
Since I was a child, I knew how to balance such things as this
But as I grow older I realize there is no point in such niceties
The delusion of love for me makes my back ache more and more
It was promised to me once
It was given to me
Yet this love was not for me
This love was for an idea
Now I live in fear I am but a horrible, intrusive thought
Something my makers conjure and bat away, uncomfortable with my existence
I chant and cry
"I am worth it! I am good!"
But silence is all that echos in this small room
Eyes look but they do not perceive
I am but a paperweight
Occupying space better taken by someone other than I
I wonder who all have died to allow me to continue living
Is there a limit to those who are allowed to be?
If so, why does God continue to let me take space?
"You are worthy," the stranger tells me
"I have done nothing," I respond
"You need not do anything to be worthy" he implores
"But I do; for why should I be given rewards with no work?"
In my dreams they pull me into their embrace and remind me of how much I do
How I burn pieces of myself to keep others warm
How I let others occupy space in my mind
Thinking of ways to make them happier with me
Even those I hate, I still long to see them smile at me
I long for their praise and I long to hear laughter as they feel joy that I have caused
I do not wish to be worshipped
No, I ask for something more selfish
I ask that I bring every person I meet happiness
True, unfiltered happiness
And in return, I ask for just one human to return the warmth to me I cannot help but give
"It is not selfish to be loved."
No, it is simply damning.
Yet this damnation is my favorite sin
I crave it as one would crave water or food
I would willingly sacrifice the latter for the former
And this sacrifice, which is not truly a sacrifice
Is one that brings me joy I cannot describe
Lean on me and I will feel useful
I will go to bed that night feeling worthy of my place in this world for but a moment
For when I wake, I will crave another dose
As is only natural for an addict
But reject me and I will reject myself in a way I do not know if Eve could have comprehended when the snake seduced her as they often do me
I will remind myself that this is not fair to anyone
How I deserve the pain that thuds and thuds against the cage made of Adam where I contain my selfishness
And this stranger looks at me with pity
But this stranger is myself
And I tell him "leave; no one is less worthy of this self indulgence than you."
Once more, the stranger disappears
And I sit here in this tub, finally free to press the blade to my vein
And free myself from this apple I would consume again and again
In a garden given to all but me
If only I wasn't a coward.
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outlying-hyppocrate · 20 days
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when i was a child i always wanted blue hair. though now i think one day i'd like to try bleaching half of it. or bleaching the front pieces. perhaps bleaching it all. i think bleach blonde would suit me. it wouldn't really but i like to imagine it would. i think red would be a nice color to try as well. in split-dye or just the front pieces. when i was in fourth and fifth grade i had a blue feather in my hair that resembled one of those scene-kid raccoon tails. i don't think i'll try that again. but i thought it was nice back then. i'm very far away from that now. isn't that so strange? it's closer to ten years ago than it is five. i think. it might've been in third and fourth grade instead. i think it was then. that was nice. i can't wait to do more things with my hair in the future
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pwupcakess · 2 months
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Ok so I'm finally comfortable enough to release this Information so please don't make me regret it. You can ask questions, just don't be obnoxious.
If you want to see me as an NPC roaming around tumblr, don't click. If you wanna see me as a human and get to know me better, click.
I've had this thing for a long time and I am only now giving it my full attention. There are separate people in brain and they control everything about me. That was blunt so let me explain. I hear these beings in my mind all the time. They argue, talk, love and express every emotion, but they never meld. They aren't copies of me, they're their own people. Seperate beings. They like their own things and they have the capabilities to talk to each other and me. And it's made me feel detached from myself because I feel like I'm not my own person. I'm not even sure what my favorite color is because different beings have different ones. In these few months alone, I've counted around 50 split beings, all very clashy and non-fluid. I'll use two beings I've named as an example. The first one is Mori (not the Japanese name, the Hebrew one.) who is very gloomy and introverted. He likes stuffed animals, pastel colors, and spicy food. Now, I'll tell you about Sefu. He is very independent, likes punk themed things, dark colors and has a surprisingly low spice tolerance. You see how they clash? They do not like each other. Sefu thinks Mori is annoying and Mori thinks Sefu is too harsh and crass. Now, I'll introduce you to a couple within this town I have in my noggin. Mori and Paco. They are still opposites but find comfort in each other. If Mori is in the forefront, I often find myself excited to see a partner I don't have. This is Mori's memories. That's another thing that happens. Shared memories that are foreign to me. I noticed when I was a little child, my brain formed these people to help me cope. I thought they were just imaginary friends. They started to grow as I aged. When I was really young, my mom developed Fibromyalgia, a chronic illness. I thought she was going to die and she was in and out of hospitals. My dad was also in and out of the house because of the military. I started to develop separation anxiety because I was afraid that one day, my mom would leave me and I started blaming myself for her illness. I've struggled with suicidal thoughts and even planned how and when to end it all because I thought it was for the better that I wasn't on this earth. Combine that with the sexual harassment and being in a sexually abusive relationship, it made for quite a bit of trauma. But I'm not gonna go around self diagnosing myself. Back to the conversation at hand. Mori and Paco love each other to an extent. It is to the point where they sometimes have... Intimate relations with each other. I'll preface this next statement by saying that there is a space where all these beings reside when they're not controlling me. I can visualize what all these beings look like in my head. Mori is short and skinny with a sickly skin tone and tired eyes. Paco is big and brawny and quite dense, to put it lightly. Sefu is effeminate and has sharp fangs and blaze colored hair. I'll also add that some of these beings aren't even human. Some appear undead, some are talking animal, athro or feral-like. Some aren't even coherent beings. Rather, just balls of mass with a functioning consciousness. Not all of these beings take the forefront. Some prefer to just make split decisions. These beings mess with my head. I struggle to stay connected to reality because I can't tell which memories are mine. I sometimes forget my name because they're are so many beings inside this body. I was only counting the active beings before. If we count the dormant beings, there are around 100. Mind you, do not refer to these beings as personalities. I see them as other people rather than myself. They are my friends and companions, not characters for others enjoyment. They can be annoying sometimes but they still provide emotional support for me. They are their own beings and they deserve mutual respect. I believe the one in the forefront at the moment is Mori. I'm trying my hardest to talk like a single person but Mori is controlling my tone and personality. In fact, when I said He had a sickly skin tone, I heard him audibly yell at me from within. ▼
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boysplanetrecaps · 2 months
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Build Up Episode 0: Getting to Know the Boys Part 3: Team Power
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Hey, friends! Welcome back to this crazy project I set out for myself -- writing up a bit about each of the 40 contestants on MNET’s Build Up before I dive into the recaps. Last post, I covered Team Soul. This post will be about Team Power. Let’s do it!
Same caveats apply: 1) I’m pressed for time, so proofreading will suffer; please be kind! 2) screencaps will be awkward due to technological issues and 3) All of these guys are amazing vocalists; my critique is splitting hairs and just my opinion at the end of the day. 
Choi Haram
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I also have almost no information about Haram, except that he’s a musical actor. In his teaser, V08, I Want to Fall in Love  by Johan Kim, he sings in that classical “musical actor” way, which is just not my favorite style of singing. That doesn’t make it bad! He also is singing a ballad. Which does mean it’s bad! Ha ha, jk.
I'll do my best to evaluate him even though the song is a ballad. I'm a hero, right? His soft tone he uses in the verses is just too breathy and nasal for my taste. But I do like the belt on the chorus part -- nice work. This guy definitely knows how to sing. I wonder what he’ll sound like singing more of a pop song. 
Kim Minseo
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This is Kim Minseo, 21, who also appeared on a show I’d never heard of called “The Origin - A, B, or What?” It “was a new type of survival program that combines balance games along with K-pop,” whatever THAT means, and it created the group ATBO. On the Wikipedia page for that show, it says that he was born in January of 2003, making him 21 now, and it also says that he lived in China for ten years and can speak Chinese. I wonder if he and Wumuti will ever speak some Chinese together? 
I really, really liked his teaser performance of Rolling in the Deep by Adele (V39), slight pronunciation issues aside. It was actually kind of cute how he sort of just gave up on pronouncing ‘underestimate’ halfway. He has a distinct, real voice that shows some training but also some rough edges. For me, he’s one to watch. Watch? Listen to? Whatever. 
Yoon Inhwan
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Yoon In-Hwan, V23, is one of the enigmas of the show -- I have no information about him. For me, his mini audition showed an unpleasantly throaty, nasal, thick vocal color that I didn’t exactly love. He sounded like he had just drunk a whole gallon of milk or something. I don’t know if that’s how he always sings, or if he just was feeling unwell that day or what. As promised, he did have a lot of power, and he also had a good sense of pitch. Hopefully he’ll do better going forward!
Jo Hwanji
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I haven’t been able to get a decent screengrab thus far, but Hwanji is the guy in the uniform in episode 1. He’s only 24 -- isn’t that surprising? Before this, he went on other shows called Phantom Singer 3 and Fantastic Duo 2.
He’s another musical actor, but in his teaser song V26 he breaks the musical actor mold by singing an upbeat retro swing song by JYP -- yes, that JYP -- called Swing Baby. I like the song, and I also like the way he sings it. Clean but full, with fun little growls to brighten things up, varied dynamics, impeccable pitch, and the power he promised. Good stuff! He’s also so hilariously square. I mean it literally. He looks like a Pixar character. It’s cute. I'm looking forward to hearing more from him.
Lim Junhyeok
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Junhyeok, age 30, debuted as part of the JYP-based k-band Day6 in September 2015, singing and playing keyboards. In late 2015, it was revealed that he’d been chatting with a female fan online, and that they might have been dating. The controversy built, and he felt obligated to leave the group in February 2016, getting to enjoy less than six months with the group. God, that must have been just heart wrenching for him. I can’t imagine.
Afterward, he joined another band called Be Blossom, but stayed only about a year. Since then, he was on a survival show called The Unit, which was about rebooting debuted idols’ careers. (A few other contestants of Build Up also went on The Unit, too.) He also continues to compose music, which I think is actually his first love. 
His teaser song performance, V05,  was I Love You by Shin Hyo Bum, and you can see in the silhouette that he’s playing the keyboards as he sings. I didn’t love his performance, unfortunately. It felt a little shrieky to me at times, and his softer notes were a little too breathy for my taste. He definitely belongs in the Power group, though. He can sure belt when he wants to -- it’s the softer segments that challenge him. Maybe it’s just my bias against ballads acting up, as well. 
It’s kind of a bummer, because for whatever reason, I like him. I can’t help but cheer for a guy who (a) was kicked out of his group after six months for dating, like, omg, how dare a young person want to date! (b) is a bit on the older side (c) composes music and plays instruments and most importantly (d) shows up to a survival show in a goddamn hoodie. Like, yes, king. So I hope that I grow to like his vocals better as I hear more from him. 
Side note: The Korean family name “Lim” is often transliterated as “Im” since that’s actually closer to how it’s pronounced. So if you see his family name written as “Im,” that’s why. (Nayeon from Twice has the family name of Lim/Im -- hence her album name.)
Park Jeup
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Park Jeup makes himself known by wearing an enormous bow on the first day. It’s just such a choice, when he’s so masculine looking. Own it! Yes!
Anyway, he’s 30, and is a member of IMFACT. He’s been on a bunch of singing shows, as well as The Unit, which would have put him in company with Lim Junhyuk (former Day6) and Hyukjin from Fave1.
His group IMFACT debuted in January 2016 and put out several albums and singles, but none of their songs have even one million views on Youtube. Most of them don’t even break 500,000 views. In 2022, all the members of IMFACT left their agency (Star Empire). The group hasn’t officially disbanded, but the members are listing themselves as soloists. They really weren’t a bad group, and it’s a shame that they never caught on, but it’s just such a crowded landscape. Their song Only You spent some time on my playlist a few years back, and Jeup’s voice in that song is really sweet. 
I tried my best to give his teaser song a try -- he was V34 --  but I just dislike ballads so much that I can’t judge him fairly. Vocally, though, he sounds well trained. He has a surprisingly high pitched timbre considering his appearance. 
Here is a performance he did in 2018, in which he made the MNET reaction editors play the instant replay buttons like a xylophone. I think there was some sort of gas leak in the studio that day, because, yeah, his voice is nice but people are having spasms in their excitement and it’s a bit much. Also, he's singing another ballad so it's kind of a no from me.
A song that’s a bit more palatable for me is this cover of Exo’s Monster on The Unit. 
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Jeup doesn’t seem to be the main vocal, but he is the one who sings “I’m sorry…. You make me… so crazy, you know you do.” He also does the higher harmony line/descant/whatever it is over the “Come here girl, you… call… me… monster” line. And he pulls it off!
I recognize Jeup’s skill, technique, and passion for the art. I’m not as sure that I love his timbre for whatever reason. I hope his voice grows on me, in part because I always have a soft spot for hard working nugu idols, and in part because I always gravitate toward the older, more broad shouldered idol types, like Baekho from NU’EST and Wyatt from ONF. Jeup, fighting!
Hyukjin
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Hyukjin is 30 and is from a group called Fave1, where he’s lead vocal and lead dancer. He also appeared on The Unit, so he may also know Park Jeup and Lim Junhyuk.
Ok, so his background is kind of sad, fam.
His first group, 100%, debuted in 2012, so he’s been at this a while. There were originally seven members, but two quit, and then one member, the leader Minwoo, passed away in 2018. That had to be so hard on Hyukjin and the rest of the team, to lose not just their friend and teammate but also their leader. The group disbanded in 2021, and three of the four remaining members formed Fave1 at a new agency. So they’re kind of like Loosemble or Vivez that way. 
100% started off doing ok -- their older songs had 1 or 2 million views, good for the time period -- but their more recent songs max out at around 400,000 views. Fave1, unfortunately, is really not doing nearly as well as even 100%. Their songs usually have views measured in the thousands, and their videos look like they were shot on someone’s iPhone. Really, the whole thing is kind of heartbreaking. 
In his teaser, Hyukjin was V22 , and sang a quasi-heavy metal song -- think Dreamcatcher style -- called Lazenca, Save Us. It was a unique choice, that’s for sure! I think he was hoping that it might make a splash for being the guy who did THIS song. I’m not sure how I feel about his performance. I think I need to hear more of him to make up my mind. But I mean, gotta respect someone who comes out of the gate with that! I think his natural voice is not quite as deep and rich as it should be to successfully pull off this kind of thing, but he displays strong sense of pitch and a lot of power. It does gets a bit shrieky and it sounds like he’s hurting his throat. I’m looking forward to seeing what else he can do because I just want to see him succeed.
Ok, that's about it for this post! Sorry if it was a bit of a bummer. So many sad stories in this industry. In the next post, we'll be visiting with Team Unique, and then we'll finally get into the recaps! See you soon.
xoxo
BPR Noona
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rubensmuse · 1 year
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i just read your tags on a post from a few days ago and?? do you think the tridentarii aren’t identical twins?
My instinctual answer to this question is "You think the Tridentarii aren't fraternal twins?" Because making the snap judgement that they must be identical is just not as intuitive as this ask is implying it is. They're two different builds and color palettes, and Coronabeth has a different hair texture, so it really surprises me that them being "identical twins" is the assumption to which everyone defaults.
The thing that muddies this discussion for me is that, when people on the internet ask whether or not the Tridentarii are "identical", I have no idea if they mean "they look the same!" or "I headcanon that they are the result of a single zygote splitting into two embryos and developed identical genes!" Because those are two different things, and they involve making two different arguments. I get the sense that when people assume the Tridentarii are "identical", they are saying 1) they are monozygotic twins, but also 2) they would have the same phenotype and be indistinguishable if Ianthe didn't have necromancy eating her titties and muscles or whatever. (Which is also a silly thing to assume, because necromancy doesn't eat your pigmentation, but whatever.) Admittedly, Macaroni and Cheese being different shades of blonde is what made me assume they were fraternal, and that isn't a safe assumption for me to have made because genetics just aren't that simple (see this example of monozygotic twins being born with two dramatically different levels of melanin). The other factor here is, y'know, Ianthe being a necromancer, something hazily theorized in-universe to be genetic (something which, to be fair, we don't know for sure, see this fan theory), and if that is true, boom, there you go, fraternal.
But the other thing we have to consider is that the Tridentarii aren't, like, real. We are talking about fictional characters, so where you or I come down re: their genetic similarities will only matter insofar as it changes the meaning of the narrative. If Ianthe and Coronabeth are "identical" in the genetic sense, what does that mean for their story? Does it make any difference? Is there a purpose to me writing this dumb multiparagraph essay in response to a two-line ask on tumblr, other than to be contrarian and jerk myself off??
I mean, I think so. I think Ianthe's and Coronabeth's story is defined by them not being like the other. They are the two faulty halves of a theoretical complete heir; the platonic ideal of the Princess of Ida, with charisma and likeability and necromancy, too. Their parents "wanted a matched set", but they didn't get one. Them trying to correct this discrepancy with lies and secrecy that isolates them from everyone but each other fits in perfectly with all the other frictions of being a fraternal twin. Like, what's the point of you both? Why'd your mother go through all that trouble to get a pair of shitty normal siblings? And it's easy to internalize that, too, that expectation of unity contrasted with that reality of duality. We are one unit, but you are not like me. If we got here at the same time, why can you do things I can't. Well, fine, then, you have your Thing, I'll have my Thing, too; we're better than a matched set, we complete each other. Hang on, why does your Thing let you do something I can't? Where are you going. Take me with you.
Ianthe and Coronabeth are a set trying to be a match, and they can't make it happen, and it drives them so crazy that Corona would rather be killed and eaten than have Ianthe go do something she can't participate in.
TL;DR: Ianthe and Coronabeth are not literally identical (they are not physically indistinguishable). We don't know if they're genetically identical (monozygotic twins as opposed to dizygotic), and the distinction has not become relevant in any of the books thus far. AND I think considering them to be genetically identical makes their story thematically weaker when compared to the alternative. Therefore, I consider them functionally fraternal until Tamsyn Muir herself says that they aren't, and I furthermore remain flabbergasted that anyone in the fandom would consider that a weird interpretation.
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suburbanlegnd · 1 year
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GET TO KNOW ME
Tagged by @poppy-inmyhair and @era-zona thank you!
are you named after anyone?: yes, my mom named me after one of her favorite singers.
when was the last time you cried?: yesterday, but I cry basically every single day lol.
do you have kids?: no, and I highly doubt i'll ever have them tbh. i shouldn't have them and i don't even like children. maybe someday i'd adopt one, but i'd never want to get pregnant.
do you use sarcasm a lot?: ngl, i use it every day, so people often think I'm rude and mean, but i swear I never mean it in a negative way, usually
what's the first thing you notice about people?: It depends, but it's either their height, hair color or lips.
scary movies or happy endings?: definitely scary movies! i'm not fond of happy ending, plus the sad ones are better written.
any special talents?: I can sing like a death metal vocalist, I get perfectly on people's nerves and I know how to repair some stuff.
where were you born?: 🇵🇱🥟
what are your hobbies?: Consuming all kinds of media, laying in my bed and a bit of graphic design.
Do you have any pets?: Yup, I have a dog.
what sports do you play/have played?: I used to play volleyball a little bit and maybe I'll start kickboxing.
how tall are you?: 5'5 (or 5'6)
favourite subject in school?: IT, music and art.
dream job?: I don't really have a "dream" job for some reasons, but being in a rock band sounds pretty cool ngl.
first ship: bold of you to assume I'm rich enough to buy one.
three ships: I don't ship people, not even fictional characters, sorry besties.
last song: out of the woods by taylor swift
last movie: split
currently reading: paranoid by david j. laporte, the unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath and every exquisite thing by Cassandra Clare
currently watching: homeland, this is us, gotham, preacher, the walking dead.
currently consuming: coffee
currently craving: ice cream
no pressure tags: @starlighttaylorsversion @caffelattte @wastelandtown @onlyyseedaylight @notesonartistry @sleepless-crows @ketterdam-snack-bar @erastours @margolovescoffeeandbooks @itsjustinyourwildestdreams @clarasamelia @boydcrowdr @coffeeisaritual @stood-onthecliffside @bloodmoonlits @karma-is-a-queen @honeyed-sunflowers @thegreatwars
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