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generalfoolish · 3 years

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Feel The Heat

Part Three: Architect

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, implied drinking and driving (hey! don't do this!), some making out, mentions of sex but no actual sex, and some trauma reflection.

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Frankie “Fish” Morales x OC Juniper Collins

Summary: Idiocy continues. June and Frankie have a date, and a sleepover.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry for this one in advance. She's not my best. She's also a hundred percent filler. We love her because she's necessary, though. I know it's a little shorter, but I have finals and a million other ideas keeping me from putting the work in. Also, I kind of like where I left it. Feel free to yell at me. Enjoy, anyway 💕

Masterlist | Part Two | Part Four

June took another sip of the wine, she had nearly drained the bottle; and she didn’t even want to know what number beer Frankie was on, but it was good. They had been propped up in the restaurant for long enough that the waiter stopped coming over.

“So what’s Fish about? I’m dying to know.” She asked brazenly, her cheeks tinged pink from the wine, and though her lipstick was long gone, her lips were stained red.

“Ah, I was wondering if you were gonna ask. It’s...not interesting.” He finally said, and they both laughed. “I like to fish, and the spot I go to has a bunch of catfish. I’ve been that way since forever, and in basics the name just stuck. Catfish, that is. The guys shortened it later to just Fish, which is...unfortunate.” June leaned forward on her elbows, and listened. She realized she was in trouble. This man could make anything sound interesting.

“Why’d they need to shorten it? Catfish is pretty easy to say.” She mused, more to herself than him. He took a sip of his beer.

“It was in spec ops, and it was just a mouth full during the shit.” He told her, glancing down. She took the hint.

“Do you eat catfish? I don’t really like it.” She admitted.

“What? No, that can’t be right. It’s great.” He laughed, and took another sip.

“Yeah, great if you love eating a muddy bottom-feeder.” She retorted, rolling her eyes.

“You like shellfish? Lobster? Because, I got news for you.” He said, smirking, and she laughed.

“Can you cook it?”

“Of course, I can.” He scoffed.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to cook some for me.” She teased lightly, the alcohol swimming in her mind.

“No way.” He said flatly. Her face fell, and he continued. “You want to eat it, you gotta catch it first.” She grimaced and shook her head.

“Not so much for fishing.” She explained, dropping her eyes from his gaze.

“What do you do then? Besides, follow my every movement.” He added playfully and she laughed.

“I took up gardening recently.” She reminded him, tilting her wine cup towards him. Samantha wasn’t too far off, he was pretty great.

“It’s a little late in the season, to start.” He told her gently. She squared her shoulders before letting them fall.

“Yeah. I had this great plan, until I thought about it at all. Day drinking has gotten me into more difficult spots though.” She huffed out a laugh. “See, there’s this grumpy farmer I wanted to impress. I wanted to...well, it sounds stupid now, but I wanted to prove that I wasn’t just a pretty face. I was going to bring you something I had grown.” She laughed, and wiped her eyes. “I didn’t think about growing seasons, or the fact that it takes a miserably long time for anything to actually grow.” He laughed with her easily, and she smiled.

“I can’t wait to see what you grow, and I hope you’ll consider me when you have to give most of it away so it doesn’t spoil.” He chuckled, but she could tell he was being earnest.

“I also write.” She blurted out. She was looking to change the subject before it got too deep, before they could get tangled in the implications, and the first thing that came to mind was something she hadn’t told anyone. Ever. The only person who knew she wrote was her publicist, and even she knew June under her pseudonym. She flushed, and tried to backpedal. “I mean it’s not a big deal. It’s really just like not a big deal at all.” He studied her face carefully, before speaking.

“Sounds like not a big deal,” He repeated, each word weighted. “But, if you ever want to tell me about it, I would love to hear.” He smiled and leveled his gaze at hers. She felt incredibly stupid for even bringing it up, but he had managed to give her a graceful out. She wondered if she shouldn’t tell him. She had no idea if this was even a date anymore, and she wanted the weight off her chest. She squared her shoulders again.

“Okay, you drug it out of me,” she laughed, and downed her glass. “I am a published author and no one in my real life knows.” She didn’t follow up. Her words hung in the air, heavy and bloated, before he cleared his throat.

“Why would you share that with me?” The confusion was apparent on his face, and it wasn’t what she was expecting. He looked incredibly touched at the gesture, as if she had just given him access to her most intimate secrets. She paused, and realized dumbly that she had. She had absolutely just revealed to him what might be her darkest secret; and as tame as it was, it was hers.

“I don’t really know.” She said flatly. She felt odd though, as she didn’t regret it. In fact, she felt relieved. “It feels good though.” She assured him.

“What have you published?”

“A half dozen novels about cowboys.” She told him, lamely.

“Cowboys?” He asked with a smile dancing on his lips.

“Cowboys.” She repeated with her own coy smile. “It’s a series, and it is not popular. But, I love it, actually.” She continued, a little bashful. “I lost money the first few years, but sales are actually picking up. I’ll never make my living that way, but I love it just the same.” Her cheeks were blazing hot, and she finished in a whisper. He nodded, feeling that much closer to her.

The waiter came over to tell them that they should leave, and the pair laughed at how long they’d been sitting and talking. June was disappointed to bring the night to a close, but knew she had class in the morning. Frankie walked her to her car, and leaned heavily against it.

“You going to be alright to drive home?” She asked, watching him sway slightly.

“No.” He told her flatly, a chuckle following. “I’ll get a cab.” She rolled her eyes.

“How old are you? Get in, I’ll take you home.” She told him, pulling him around to the passenger side. He fought her a little.

“I’m out of the way, I don’t want you to have to back track.”

“Fine, we can go back to mine, and in the morning I’ll drop you by your truck. This is on my way.” The proposition was out in the world before she considered it. The words were hanging between them before she had a chance to worry the details out. It seemed simple enough, but the implications went deeper than she was ready to admit. Her worries were confirmed when she heard him suck in a sharp breath.

“I’d hate to impose…” He trailed, but she was already unlocking her car and shoving him in.

~~~

“Of course, I’ll take the couch, you’re my guest.” She told him, huffing in finality. He crossed his arms. Frankie had only barely agreed to the sleepover; he wasn’t getting bullied in the sleeping arrangement.

“No way. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home.”

“The couch is comfy, though. I slept there last night.”

“All the more reason you should get a proper night’s rest in your bed.” They glared at each other, and Frankie won. Or, so he thought.

“Fine. We’ll both sleep on the couch.” His laugh was sharp and loud, ripped out without warning. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze, but everything June had said had warmed his insides.

“That’s reasonable.” He agreed, and without thinking too much about the movement, he pulled her to the couch with him. He had meant for it to be smooth, and maybe a little romantic. Instead, it was messy and tangled, but when she landed face to face with him it was hard to argue his methods. He felt her breath on his lips, and he leaned forward, testing the waters, and skimmed his lips against hers. She responded in kind, pressing her lips to his with more urgency.

Frankie shifted June so that he was seated and she was straddling him. He pushed back into her kiss, and deepened it slightly. He ran his tongue against her lips, and when she parted them, he slipped his tongue in, tasting and exploring inside her mouth. He licked under her tongue, sucking it slightly, and managed to pull a soft moan from her. He pulled back for air, and noted how her pupils were blown black with lust, her bright eyes darkened. He wondered for a second if his own were so dark, and then she was on him again. She kissed and licked down his jaw and neck, before focusing on his ear. She nibbled the lobe, licked and sucked the sensitive skin around it.

When she pulled away, he almost whined at the loss. She was panting a little, and already swinging her leg off of him. He frowned at her movements, but didn't stop them. She sat heavily beside him, and pecked his cheek.

"Not that I don't want to continue...I just don't think it's a great idea. We've both been drinking, and it's a school night." The realization hit her like a brick wall. "Crap! Frankie! Do you need to get home to Liv?" He chuckled in response, which let her calm down a bit.

“No, she’s at a friend’s house tonight.” June breathed a sigh of relief, and Frankie felt his lips tug up. “Thanks for checking, though.” She nodded, and he just waited, not sure what she wanted next. He hoped it was more than making out. She cleared her throat and faced him, and he felt his smile fall. She looked too serious for anything light., and he braced for impact.

“The way I see it, Frankie, is we have two options here. One, we go upstairs, and I fuck you out of my system.” He inhaled sharply, and swallowed heavily. He could have laughed, if he wasn’t so shocked. “Option two, I go upstairs, alone, and tomorrow I take you to your truck. After that, maybe we can have another dinner...or maybe I’ll go fishing with you.” He did chuckle at her scrunched up face, this time. He considered her options for a moment.

“Why not a third, where both options play out?” He was teasing, mostly. Mostly, he assured himself.

“Well, that doesn’t work for me. I have had too many option three relationships take a nosedive, and I want to give this a chance. But, if you’re not interested in seeing where we could go, then let’s get on with the fun part.” He studied her face, etching every crinkle and freckle to memory. It was so intimate, he realized, being this close without touching. He wanted to take her upstairs. He didn’t really want to even take her upstairs, the couch was fine. She had been burning him since they had met, and he had had every opportunity to reach out and extinguish it. He hadn’t, and he knew why. He knew they could have something here. He had just spent hours with her, and he was already missing her presence. It wasn’t a choice he had to think hard about. He wanted to see her again. But, he wanted her tonight.

He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, pulling away before it could turn into anything more.

“Option two, please.” He noticed her eyes light up, but restrained himself. He could just kiss her all night, if she’d let him. He watched her leave the couch and disappear into another room. He took the opportunity to steady his breathing, and hopefully, calm himself down. She returned with an armful of blankets and pillows. He took them from her, and she stepped away, putting more distance between them than necessary.

“I have some old pajama shorts and a t-shirt from an ex, if you would like something more comfy to sleep in.” She offered, tossing a thumb behind her. He nodded as he made up the couch, not watching her disappear upstairs. She came back quickly and handed them off. He tried not to imagine who had left these behind, which option they had picked.

“Goodnight, Frankie. Kitchen is that way if you need water or anything. Bathroom is there, and I apologize for not having more sleepover supplies, it’s been...awhile.” She apologized, laughing. He waved her off.

“Goodnight, Ms. Collins. Sweet dreams.” He watched her retreat slowly upstairs before turning back to the couch. He was in trouble.

~~~

June tossed for a few hours before relenting. She’d never get to sleep otherwise, she told herself as she slipped her hand beneath her cotton shorts. No, she was too worked up, she reasoned as she made contact with her clit. She came hard in only a few minutes, thinking about how hard Frankie had been against her on the couch. She had been frantic, trying to slow them down, for her own sake. She was already falling hard for him; she didn’t need amazing sex to be the last nail in her coffin. She felt like she knew him, intimately, already. It was ridiculous, she kept reminding herself. It was someone who she had only met less than a week ago. She shouldn’t have invited him into her house. She didn’t need to see him in the morning light to confirm her fears. She had moaned his name into her pillow as she came; no, she knew just what she was in for.

She groaned as she remembered what she had said. “Fuck you out of my system?” She whispered again in the dark, cringing. Who was she? She didn’t talk like that. She taught six year olds. She tried to breathe deeply, and not go into a full-blown panic attack. How had she never gotten any better at flirting? She was grown, she could hook up and still have a relationship.

June squeezed her eyes shut against the memories threatening to crowd her, and reasoned she had made the better choice. They had been drinking, and it was too convenient. Hopefully, he didn’t think she was a psycho for inviting him over, making out with him hard, and then turning him down cold. Well, not cold, but lukewarm. She groaned again. Why was she acting like a teenager? She never fretted like this. Her mom’s cold words flashed in her mind, and she shuddered against them, willing them away. Too late, she thought about Terry.

Terrance, the one who had convinced her to move away from everyone. The one who had promised her everything, and then left her empty. The one who had no kind words or touches for her. The one who had left the taste of rust in her mouth.

She blinked against the tears, and tried to think about Frankie downstairs instead. All she could remember was the gruffness at the farmer’s market, the harsh words at the school, the disappointment in his eyes at dinner, and the coldness after she had turned down sex. She hugged herself tighter and tried to think about the soft touches he had given, the tender kiss, the personal stories, and the deep laugh she was falling in love with.

It was no use, she decided. Mid-spiral, she wasn’t good enough for anyone. She was glad she hadn’t invited him up. She was glad she wouldn’t be used by another man. She would drop him off in the morning, and then that would be that. If she didn’t start loving herself, no one would.

~~~

Frankie stretched against the soft material as light started trickling in through the blinds. He could hear the birds outside, and he whistled softly in tune. He folded the bedding, and padded to the kitchen.

After looking around a bit, he settled on coffee and pancakes. He had noticed the canned tomatoes in the cupboard, and made a note to ask June if they were the ones she had bought from him. He got busy mixing the pancakes together while the coffee brewed. He hadn’t slept so good in years. He had expected a sore back, at least, but that damn couch was probably better than his lumpy old mattress. He cut some berries up, while the pancakes were frying, and smiled as he heard June walk in.

“Morning!” He greeted, cheerfully. She winced, and he let a small chuckle out. “Sorry, uhm, coffee’s ready.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He turned back to the oven, wondering if she just wasn’t a morning person. He noticed she felt colder this morning, and hoped it was because she was hungover.

“You were right about the couch, super comfortable.” He told her as she settled in at the counter. She only nodded, which he barely caught. He turned to face her, one hand on his hip and the other holding the spatula.

“Everything okay?” She nodded again, and he frowned. Something was definitely wrong, but if she wasn’t telling him what could he do. He made her a plate of pancakes and berries, and made one for himself. He sat down beside her, and she ate in silence. In fact, she didn’t say anything to him until they made it back to his truck.

“Have a nice day.” She had mumbled, her lips tight. He gaped a bit before getting out, and slamming the door a little harder than he had meant to. He got into his truck as she sped off, and he slammed the door.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked the steering wheel.

“Whatever,” He said, tightly, throwing the truck into drive.

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal characters #Frankie morales x oc #Frankie Morales x fem!#juniper collins #triple frontier fanfiction

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

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Bite Hard

Chapter One of I’m Your Villain

Words: 3019

Warnings: alcohol

It’s a typical Tuesday night, Cadmus is drunk and somewhere he really shouldn’t be.

One drink, two drinks, three drinks? He can’t keep track any more, and there’s really no point in counting, Cadmus decides. He’s half forgotten how he got to this tavern in the first place. There’s a man talking to him, someone whose name he can’t remember, who moves his hand to rest on Cadmus’ arm. He doesn’t really feel it, it’s as if he’s disconnected from his body, which is somewhat true. The body he’s in right now doesn’t exactly look like his own.

Being the son of the Comte D’Avronne means Cadmus isn’t able to blend in. Everywhere he goes in Avronne people seem to be afraid of him, and if he wants any fun he has to hide his identity. There are rumors that Cadmus is an assassin, a murderer. The rumors are true of course, but it’s not like he’s going to hurt some random townsperson.

Still, needs must. He’s concocted a disguise over the last few years, using his magic to change his features just enough so his visits to the local tavern remain unnoticed. Cadmus doesn't have much magic, despite his mother’s best attempts to teach him, but it’s enough to provide him cover. The illusion doesn’t do much, just turns his hair and eyes a few shades darker, but it’s a handy trick. Unfortunately, it’s an illusion that slips easily if he isn’t being careful enough.

The man talking to him laughs, bringing Cadmus’ attention to his very ruddy toned face, “Hey your hair’s changed color!” The sound of the man’s voice is grating and Cadmus can’t help but physically cringe. He notices the man’s eyes are a little too high up on his face and he thinks of his own eyes, they’re perfectly symmetrical like the rest of his face.

What’s the man’s name? Ryan? Brian? Something with an -ian for sure…

“Who cares,” Cadmus responds to his own question aloud, the man might have an obnoxious laugh but he’ll do, it’s not like they have to talk. He flips a longer lock of hair out of his eyes and realizes that his hair has indeed gone from brown back to its natural blond.

The man seems to think the response was for him and shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. Cadmus sighs and leans closer to the man, he’s so bored. “Do you want to go somewhere more… private?” Cadmus suggests, placing his hand on the man’s knee. If this guy doesn’t want him maybe that girl over by the bar? She’d been making eyes at him all night. It doesn’t really matter who wants to hook up with him in the side alleyway, so long as someone will.

The man seems eager enough, and they’re headed to the door when a hand claps down on his shoulder. Cadmus immediately grabs the arm and pushes it off as he turns around. His stance shifts and he’s about to draw his dagger when he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The spike of adrenaline subsides as he’s met with the familiar face of his best friend and captain of the castle guards, Alexander.

“Cadm- er, Jean.” Alexander stumbles, trying to remember the pseudonym Cadmus had assumed for the evening.

“What is it?” Cadmus tries to keep his voice light, but by the look on Alexander’s face his frustration is obvious. Things were just getting interesting until boring Alexander had showed up to ruin the fun.

“The Comte wants to see you.” Alexander gives Cadmus an appraising look and takes the half full glass Cadmus is still holding. He sets it down out of reach on a nearby table and Cadmus swears at him under his breath.

“Well of course he does, but he’s got shit timing. My lovely friend and I,” He gestures at Brian/Ryan, “were just about to fu-”

“Cadmus,” Alexander hisses in his ear, pulling him away from the man. “Your hair is blond you ass, you’re going to get caught.”

“Well I do look better blond,” Cadmus grins, running a hand through his shoulder length hair. His father’s been telling him to cut it shorter for weeks, but he thinks it looks nicer this way. Though really, he knows he looks nice any way.

“You’re drunk aren’t you? That’s our one rule and you broke it! We agreed on one drink, Cadmus.” Alexander looks frustrated, and the logical part of Cadmus’ brain understands. He knows he’s not fun to babysit.

“What, you’re not mad you’re just disappointed?” Cadmus says snarkily and Alexander huffs under his breath.

“What are you, five? The Comte said it’s urgent. You’ve got an assignment.”

“I just went out last week, can’t he give me one moment of peace?” Cadmus groans in complaint.

“I’ve heard the target is royalty, Cadmus,” Alexander says insistently.

“Oh.” Cadmus shakes his head slightly in an attempt to shake the foggy affects of alcohol from his brain, this changes things.

“Yes, oh. Your sister can only cover for you for so long, we need to get back before he goes looking for you.”

“Fine, fine, let’s go then.” Cadmus turns to look for Brian/Ryan and sees the man is already across the room talking to someone else. He sighs, a bit hurt that the man had lost interest so quickly.

“Let’s go,” Alexander pulls Cadmus by the arm and Cadmus pushes his hand away. “Your eyes have changed back too.”

Everyone in Cadmus’ family has the same bright blue eyes, they’re the telltale sign of a Durand. While his blond hair could be passed off as someone else, the eyes are a dead giveaway. He knows they need to leave. Still, he’d been having more fun talking to random strangers than he’s had all day, and he doesn’t want to go on another boring assignment even if it is royalty.

The tavern has grown quiet and he looks away from Alexander, noticing quite a few suspicious eyes trained on him. They wouldn’t start a fight, no, but he’d still prefer to get out before word gets to any other castle guards or his father. He hears a voice behind him say, “Is that Cadmus Durand?” and decides he’s outstayed his welcome.

“Alright well, lovely to see you all!” Cadmus calls to the crowd, giving a little mock bow, and then he runs.

It takes twenty minutes to run through town and up the hill to the castle, and by the time he and Alexander have arrived he’s begun to grow a bit nervous. Cadmus knows better than to leave the Comte waiting this long. The run in the cold night air had sobered him up at least, though he’d felt like he might be sick for a moment climbing all the steps up to the gates.

He smooths his clothes down as he walks towards the private wing of the castle and Alexander checks to make sure he’s looking like himself. He ensures that not a blond curl is out of place before proceeding. When they reach the door of the Comte’s office, his throne room for all intents and purposes, his sister Daphne is waiting outside.

“Daph,” Cadmus greets her, his nervous expression fading into a tight smile. Despite what he might be feeling he doesn’t let himself slip in front of her. She’s only sixteen, and though she’s well aware of the family’s darker dealings, it’s something he’d like to keep from her as much as possible.

“Cadmus!” At least she’s always happy to see him.

“How is he?”

“Same as always. Did you know he told me I couldn’t go out in the gardens anymore? He says it’s not safe. Why would it not be safe? It’s inside the walls!” Daphne clings to his arm as she rambles and under any other circumstance he’d be happy to listen to her talk, but he’s late.

He places a hand on hers and gives her a more genuine smile this time, “I’ll talk to him about it, I know how much you love your flowers.”

“Thank you!” She walks down the hall, practically skips, and he wonders at how someone could remain so cheerful in a place so full of death. The stone walls of the Durand castle practically seep blood, but Daphne and her garden keep the place alive. But now is not the time to ponder blood and flowers, he has a job to do.

Cadmus takes a moment to relax his face into a blank mask of composure and knocks sharply on the heavy wooden door.

“Enter.”

“Father.” Cadmus bows as he enters the room, biting his tongue to keep his tone respectful.

“You’re late.”

“I was training, Alexander had trouble finding me.” Cadmus looks up from his spot on the ground, raising his gaze to meet his father’s. The Comte D’Avronne sits behind his desk, his hands laced together and leaning back in his chair, completely at ease. It’s always a bit unnerving to look at him because of how alike they look, seeing the Comte is like seeing himself in thirty years. The Comte regards Cadmus critically with a raised eyebrow, and he’s glad Alexander had looked him over before he walked in.

“I trust that extra training will serve you well. You have a new assignment.” The Comte smiles, and it’s an expression that looks entirely at odds with his face. Cadmus waits for him to continue, he knows better than to ask questions or interrupt.

“The city of Merona is set to finalize a marriage alliance with Greythal, our rival as you well know.” He pauses to make sure Cadmus is listening, “Though we have tried other means of persuasion, it seems we must force Merona’s hand to ensure that Avronne’s power is retained. We’ll marry one of our own to the Duke of Merona, and we must ensure that the Princess of Greythal is no longer a problem.”

Cadmus sighs, yet another boring political maneuver. “Can we not just exile the girl? Or threaten war?”

“No, our resources are drained enough as it is. The Princess is almost of marrying age, and we simply cannot risk Greythal making an alliance with someone else.” His face slips into a frown as he talks, and he looks at Cadmus as though the fate of Greythal is somehow his fault.

“What’s the assignment?” Cadmus already knows, but decorum requires him to ask. He grits his teeth again to keep any sarcastic comments at bay, every moment spent in the presence of his father is tiresome.

“In four days time the princess is having a birthday party. You are to attend, take down the target, and leave unnoticed. Master Xiphos will have more instructions, and I do believe he has a new sword for you as well, should you need it.” When his father mentions the name of his old swordmaster his mood brightens.

Xiphos has been abroad for nearly a year, travelling all the way to Karnassos to bring back new materials and news from the west. Cadmus is eager to see him again, there are so few people he actually finds interesting.

“Understood.”

Something in his tone or expression must have seemed off, because his father’s frown deepens and he stands up from his desk. He comes to stand in front of Cadmus, resting a hand on his shoulder. Cadmus resists the urge to shove the hand off and simply keeps his expression blank as his father speaks. “Remember Cadmus, everything we do is for the good of this family, the good of this city.”

“Of course.” He’s relieved when the hand moves away.

The Comte’s tone is as cold as ice,“You will not fail me.”

“I won’t.” He never has and he never will, not necessarily for his father’s benefit, but because he hates to fail.

“You are dismissed.” He gestures to the door but Cadmus doesn’t move.

“I wanted to ask why Daphne is not allowed on the grounds?” Cadmus asks, ducking his head in deference to try to appease the Comte.

“It’s not safe. There could be any number of enemies prowling about, waiting for an opportunity to murder or ransom her.”

“So you’re planning to keep her locked inside the castle?” Cadmus does his best to keep his tone even, but no matter how hard he bites his tongue the frustration seeps out.

“You’d question my judgement?” His father doesn’t sound angry, he never does, but Cadmus knows a fire burns beneath the icy veneer, just as it does in him.

“Of course not father, I merely wondered whether she might be allowed to tend to her garden. Perhaps she could have a retinue of guards, Alexander would see to it.” He thinks of how his sister always looks when she’s out in the garden, her dress caked in mud and her face lit up by a smile. She’ll be devastated if she’s not allowed to go outside.

“That is out of the question, it’s too dangerous given the business with Greythal. And as it is, Daphne is far too old for something so frivolous. We have groundskeepers to keep the gardens.” The Comte sounds almost amused, and when Cadmus looks up he sees that eerie smile pasted on again. Most people find his father charming, but Cadmus can see right through it.

“But-”

“Not another word. You have a job to do.” His tone brooks no argument, and Cadmus knows it’s futile at this point.

“Yes, father.”

“Get to it.” He gestures to the door again and this time Cadmus obeys, bowing as he exits.

Cadmus walks quickly down the hall, keeping his shoulders back and his chin up in case his father is watching. He nearly jumps when Alexander pops out of the alcove where he’d been waiting. His friend places his hand on his shoulder again and Cadmus pushes it off with a huff, people have been doing that far too much this evening.

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that, one of these days I’ll have a sword drawn and your hand will end up disconnected from your body,” Cadmus says irritably. All he wants is to sleep, or perhaps return to the tavern to see if Ryan/Brian is still around. He could use another drink.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I could take you in a fight, Cadmus,” Alexander scoffs.

Cadmus’ lips pull up in a half smile as he paces a circle around his friend. “When I return from my assignment we should put that to the test. I’d love to see you get your ass handed to you.”

“You’re so confident for a man who once slipped in mud while dueling.”

“That was ages ago, and it had just rained! There was no way around it,” He argues, his tone defensive though he tries for nonchalance.

Alexander laughs, “You looked like a pig rolling around in the mud like that.”

“Shall I remove your tongue instead of your hand, then?” Cadmus hisses through gritted teeth, his hand moves to the dagger at his belt.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that. What’s got you in such a bad mood? What exactly was the assignment?” Alexander’s still grinning, knowing that Cadmus isn’t actually about to pull a knife on his oldest and dearest friend.

“Some princess from Greythal. Should be easy.” Cadmus continues down the hall and Alexander trails behind him.

“You always say that.”

“It’s always easy,” Cadmus laughs.

“I’m sure it is for you, Cadmus Durand, the world’s greatest assassin.” Alexander’s tone is mocking and it makes Cadmus stop to look at him.

“Nobody calls me that.” “That’s a good thing, you don’t need the ego boost.” Alexander claps him on the shoulder and Cadmus rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to Alexander?” He’s impatient now, his room is right around the corner and if he doesn’t get a bed or a pint of ale soon he might just lose it.

“Just wanted to make sure you survived your meeting with the Comte!” “He wouldn’t risk hurting me, I’m too valuable.”

“Well let’s hope you stay that way what with Alastor being... Alastor.” Alexander’s words fade to a whisper by the end of the sentence, like he’s afraid Cadmus’ younger brother could be hiding in the walls eavesdropping. For all Cadmus knows, he probably is.

“Don’t bring up that prick, you’ll only make my mood worse.” Cadmus catches himself scanning the dark hallway behind him, and turns back around, determined not to let the pale specter of his scheming brother haunt him now.

“I’ll see you for training tomorrow?” Alexander asks as they reach Cadmus’ door. “Same as always.”

When Cadmus finally enters his room he moves to the mirror first. He looks tired, the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes, and that simply won’t do. He realizes he’s been clenching his jaw since the moment he entered the castle, and he relaxes the muscles, his jaw popping from the release of tension. He feels something on the bottom of his leg and looks down to see a grey snake coiling around his ankle.

“Agatha darling, what have I said about crawling on my shoes? They’re Venterrean leather, they cost a fortune.” Cadmus sighs, reaching down to pick her up. She sticks her tongue out and hisses at him in greeting as he strokes the top of her head. He’s pensive as he looks out the window into the dark moonlit grounds.

“I’m leaving again, soon. I think I'll bring you with me this time.”

Though he’d claimed this job would be easy Cadmus has a feeling that was a lie. He’s always been able to trust his instincts, they’ve kept him alive for the last nearly thirty years, and right now his instincts are screaming that this is a trap. Something will go wrong, of that he’s certain. He just needs to ensure that he ends up on top.

Cadmus isn’t too worried, he always succeeds- why should this time be any different?

#I'm Your Villain #cadmus durand #cadmus chapter one yayyy #bastard boy i love youuuu #narcissus himself

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