#normally i’m against chairs on the ice. but i’ll allow this

[dozydawn]

Jana Khokhlova and Sergei Novitski Exhibition, 2008.

Stop by Sam Brown.

#normally i’m against chairs on the ice. but i’ll allow this #ice dance #jana khokhlova #sergei novitski #figure skating #sam brown #2008

[autocrats-in-love]

Omg hiiii I have a request that I’ve been daydreaming and fantasizing about night for a couple of weeks 🧍‍♀️but I was wondering if you could do a fluff story of a villain who’s noticed their hero hasn’t shown up for the past few days and gets worried, they look everywhere but decide to just break into the hero base in a desperate act to find their hero, maybe they break in quietly and search for the hero or they go straight to the source and demand to know where hero is, either way they discover hero as been locked up because their powers are “too dangerous” and hero “can’t control them” (they have ice powers) when villain finds them in a cell they are strapped tightly to a chair in a room 100 degrees (or hotter idk) and because of their ice powers they are wayyy more sensitive to heat. So villain rescues them (maybe adding a gentle chin tilt and a “I’m going to get you out of here” from the villain)

Thank you if you cannnnnn! :))

Before the Ice Melts

Be warned: overheating

The villain watched the hero agency base from their hiding spot in the trees. It would be a quick drop-in, the villain told themselves. In and out. As a truck stopped in front of the intimidating metal gates, a guard stepped out from a booth to check their identification. The villain jumped out from their hiding spot and ran up next to the truck. They had turned invisible but still had to be careful to not kick up the dirt road in their wake. 

The villain leaned against the truck wall; they stared at the agency through the opening gates. Right in front of them was a flashing light. A motion sensor. The guard waved the truck through. The villain ran through as it slowly pulled in. The guard flicked the beeping motion sensor off without looking.

The villain ran to a door, entering with an employee who had the key card. They were in, but it was only a matter of time before someone looked at the heat sensor cameras and saw a problem. The lobby was huge and looked no different from that of a bank. There were no maps anywhere. Only the hero board knew where everything was in the building. Everyone else only knew what they needed to know.

How could they find the hero like this?

Normally, the villain couldn’t get rid of the hero if they tried. Always on the receiving end of their enemy’s ice powers. But for the past few weeks, the villain had been allowed to go about their evil business with no interruptions. Not even a replacement had been assigned. It was suspicious. And the villain needed answers.

There was a maze of hallways branching off from the lobby, behind an information desk where a young person sat, looking bored. As the villain got closer, they recognized her. It was the hero’s sidekick. She wasn’t qualified to fight the villain on her own yet--but she should at least be shadowing another hero right now.

The villain didn’t have a lot of time. They walked right up to the desk and turned visible. 

“Welcome to the hero agency, I’ll need to scan your identification to-” the sidekick looked up and gasped loudly.

The villain shushed her and looked around frantically. No one had noticed--they were all too busy to pay attention to a bothered secretary.

“Shut up!” the villain hissed, grabbing the sidekick’s collar. 

The sidekick put up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Let go.” 

The villain reluctantly released her.

“What are you doing here? This is how you get arrested.” the sidekick said.

“You know why I’m here.” the villain snapped.

The sidekick bit her lip nervously. “All information regarding them is confidential now.”

“But you know.” the villain said. “There’s no way you wouldn’t do everything you could to find out.”

The sidekick paused, looking at the villain. Considering. Finally, she nodded.

“And I trust you will do everything you can to get them out?” she said. “Even if they turn you into an icicle for it?”

“I promise.” the villain said. 

“Okay. Go down hallway A6. Find room 7014.”

The villain smiled with relief. 

“Thanks. Stay out of trouble. You could get disappeared, knowing that.”

“You’re telling me to stay out of trouble?” The sidekick said.

“Touché.”

“Good luck.”

The villain turned themself invisible once more, and followed the crowd to the hall labelled A6 in bold, black letters. It was small, with doors on either side, going as far as the villain could see. The crowd thinned instantly as people walked through the first two doors. Peeking in, the villain saw they led to more hallways. A few more minutes and they were alone. The villain guessed the deeper you went, the more top-secret things became. 

They eventually reached a laser field. On the wall next to it, the text read, Rooms 7000-8000 A6. Present iris for scanning. On the one hand, the villain could just wait for someone to come by. On the other hand, the hero was so close. And it would be a few minutes before security could reach the area.

The villain stepped through the lasers.

A light above them started flashing. No alarm blared, though. No attention should be brought to this disruption. The villain ran down the corridor, checking the door numbers as they went. At last, they saw 7014 in front of them. There was a window above the villain’s head. They pushed themselves up to their tiptoes to see inside.

There was someone chained to a metal chair. The hero. They were leaning back against the chair, eyes closed. Their face had a reddish hue to it. Sweat dripped down their face and neck. Red light shone from the walls and ceiling. Heat waves distorted the villain’s view. 

The villain fell, horrified. The hero was a person of ice and snow. A being who never wore anything more than a long-sleeved shirt, even in snow up to their waist. It would take immense energy to counteract their natural cold to this degree. Next to the room was a screen attached to the wall. Above the hero’s information was the temperature. 45 degrees Celsius.

The villain could hear the distant footsteps of security coming. They didn’t care. The villain stepped back and rammed their shoulder into the door. They were getting the hero out.

Part 2

#villain x hero #hero x villain #not a prompt #ice hero

[icemankazansky]

icemav + older mav/younger ice 🙏

Thanks for playing! Your reward is the longest "three-sentence story" yet. This one is probably an actual one shot, actually.

Older Mav/Younger Ice AU + Teacher/Student (kind of) AU

Maverick arrived in his office moments before the meeting was meant to begin, and was in the middle of trying to make things look slightly more orderly when Kazansky walked in several minutes early.  Maverick froze, now the sole obstacle between the dozen or so books lined up on his windowsill and gravity.  Kazansky stilled halfway between the doorway and the desk, assessing the scene with a silent pass of his glacial blue eyes.  

“Need a hand?” Kazansky asked.

Maverick huffed and scrambled to right the books before they slid onto the floor.  “No, I’m just—this is normal—”

Kazansky’s plush, distracting mouth quirked up into that infuriating little half-smile, and he crossed the room, sidling behind Maverick and pushing the books back into place with one of his big hands.  Maverick swallowed his curse, reminding himself that he was supposed to be the bigger man, and picked the fallen bookend off the floor, fitting it back into place as Kazansky held the books still.

Maverick turned, intending to have a civilized meeting where he sat behind his desk and Kazansky sat on the other side in the chair that was there for that express purpose.  But Kazansky did not go to sit in the chair.  He turned to face Maverick, leaning back against Maverick’s desk, his weight balanced on his hands braced behind him, his hips cocked out.  He was wearing a faded pair of blue jeans, an old pair soft with wear.  Maverick tried not to imagine the feel of the worn denim, soft as cotton, beneath his palms, and failed spectacularly.

Maverick swallowed dryly.  “Do you know why I asked to see you, Mr. Kazansky?”

“Please call me Ice,” Kazansky said, not for the first time.  “And no, Maverick, not specifically.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow.  “No?  Also, I would appreciated it if you would call me Professor Mitchell.”

Ice’s gaze cut into him.  “You tell everyone to call you Maverick.  You mean everyone but me?”

Instead of fumbling for a response, Maverick decided to double down on his first argument.  “You have no idea why I asked you to come see me?”

“Well, you find me intellectually stimulating, and I’m charming and very attractive—”

“You’re not as charming as you think you are,” Maverick muttered.

“No argument on how attractive I am?”

Maverick flushed.  “Mr. Kazansky, we need to talk about your behavior in my classroom this afternoon.”

Ice’s brow rose.  “Do we?”

Maverick flushed deeper.  “Your pants were open.”

Ice frowned.  “I didn’t realize.”  He tapped his stupid, long, graceful fingers over his fly.  “Seems like the problem’s fixed now.”

“It’s inappropriate,” Maverick snapped.

“It’s an innocent mistake,” Ice said.  “I didn’t accidentally flash you or anything, did you?”

No.  No, he didn’t.  Maverick didn’t see anything but the occasional glimpse of black fabric, too fleeting to even guess what kind of fabric it was.  Not that Maverick hadn’t considered the possibilities.  All of them.  Extensively.

“That’s not the point!” Maverick seethed.

“What is the point?”

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Maverick said.

“Not buttoning my pants …?”

Maverick flushed.  “Flirting with me!  Teasing me.”

Ice wet his lips.  At this point, Maverick couldn’t tell if the action was deliberate or not; it didn’t matter.  The slow pass of Ice’s pink tongue over his plush lips made Maverick feel giddy.

“I’m allowed to flirt,” Ice said softly.  “And it’s not teasing if I’ll give it to you.  And I will.  I believe I’ve made that clear, but in case you need to hear it again: When it comes to me, you can have anything—everything—you want.”

It was Ice’s going soft that did it.  Him lowering his guard, being open, vulnerable.  Genuine, earnest.  Suddenly, Maverick felt every year between them like a weigh pulling him down to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m old enough to be your father,” he said.

“My father was not in middle school when I was born,” Ice said.

“I’m your teacher.”

“I’m not an undergrad who was in high school last week,” Ice said.  “I’m a doctoral student.”

“So you’re 24?”

“Twenty-five,” Ice said, a bit defensively.  “I’m an adult.  I know what I’m doing.  I know what I’m getting into.”  He met Maverick’s eyes.  “I know you like me.  I like you, too, Mav, so much.  You’re smart, and funny, and really cute—”

Maverick panted.  “You’re going to kill me.”

Ice grinned.  “It’s a pretty good way to go, though, right?  In bed with a hard-bodied 25-year-old who adores you?”

Maverick’s jaw dropped open, and Ice grinned. “Take me out, Professor Mitchell.  One date.  A test drive.  If you can’t handle it, I’ll leave you alone.  Promise.  I’ll change majors.  I’ll change universities.  I’ll change countries.”

Maverick felt a lance of pain cut through him.  “No.  I can’t.  I … Mr. Kazansky, I’d like to ask you to leave, please.  I have to get ready for office hours.”

Ice’s light dimmed all at once, like a snuffed candle flame.  He pulled himself off Maverick’s desk and turned his back to him.

“Please forgive me for taking up your time, Professor,” he said, and left without turning back.

* “Maverick, you’re an idiot,” Goose said.

“I know,” Maverick moaned.  He was faceplanted onto the couch of Goose’s office, and some of his answer was lost in the upholstery.

“He’s an adult,” Goose said.  “It’s not like he’s a failing freshman offering you a blowjob to get his grades up; he’s a doctoral student, and he’s the best one in the program.”

“I know,” Maverick said.

“He likes you.  And you like him.”

“Kill me, Goose,” Maverick said.  “Just put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, no,” Goose said.  “I have a much worse idea.”

*

Singing three power ballads at karaoke at a bar just off campus was definitely a worse idea.  He wasn’t even drunk enough for it to be an excuse.  In fact, he had decided to stick to Shirley Temples so he wouldn’t make worse decisions.

But it did lift his spirits.  He came off stage after the last song bolstered by the applause and camaraderie of the crowd, even knowing that enough of his students were in the audience that this would probably be news on campus come Monday.  Goose handed him a fresh Shirley Temple, and then gave a little nod to Maverick’s six.

“I believe you have a fan.”

Maverick turned and came face to face with Ice, who looked warmer and more relaxed than when Maverick had left him.  Maverick opened his mouth to apologize, but Ice spoke first.

“I got an invite to the show,” Ice said, eyes flicking briefly back to Goose.  “I enjoyed your performance.”

“Uh … thanks,” Maverick said.

“You’re very passionate,” Ice said.  “That’s very attractive.”

Maverick was aware his mouth was hanging open, but found he couldn’t do anything about it.  Ice didn’t mention it.  He looked at the Shirley Temple.

“May I please have a cherry, Teach?”

Maverick flushed.  “Uh, yeah, it’s … sure.”

He pulled a cherry from his drink by the stem.  He was prepared to hand it to Ice when Ice opened his mouth.  Flushing hotter, Maverick placed the cherry in Ice’s mouth, losing several dozen IQ points when his fingertips brushed Ice’s lips.

Ice licked his lips, then closed his mouth, sucking the sweet juices from the cherry.  Maverick started doing differential equations in his head.

“Look,” Maverick said, “about earlier, Ice, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Ice opened his mouth, and Maverick shut his.  Ice pulled the cherry stem from his tongue and deposited it gently atop the ice cubes of Maverick’s Shirley Temple.  He had tied it into a bow.  Maverick felt like he’d taken a blow to the head.

“Walk me home?” Ice asked.

“Yeah, I—yeah, I’m gonna … do that,” Maverick managed.  He set his glass down … somewhere, and followed Ice out without tearing his eyes off him.  “Uh … bye, Goose.”

“Have a good night,” Goose called after them. 

Maverick married Ice that October.

#asks answered #top gun fanfiction #icemav #my writing

[umbralsound-xiv]

Exhaustion.

[Q’kura] I’m beginning to think this entire thing was a terrible idea, and far more than he’s worth! I am exhausted, i haven’t slept or eaten properly in bells, and all because Grym decided at the very last moment he wanted to keep him alive for reasons only known to him!

Maybe it would have been easier if i’d have lied and said there was nothing left to be done for it.

Bah! I should have thought of that earlier!

Quietly, D'khoreh nudged the door open to the infirmary and slipped past, ears a little flat as he passed the threshold and allowed the door to ever so slowly shut behind him - careful not to make too much noise. "... Q'kura..? Are you.. okay?"

"Fine. Just fine." Q'kura huffed, a little disingenuously. A marked frown sat on the Seeker's face, wavering on his heels as he extended a hand over the Viera who laid unmoving on an infirmary bed. "I can't go for too much longer, Eanwin got called away for some other nonsense, and just left me to it. I feel like i'm going to drop." He narrowed his eyes over the rim of his glasses, staring at Eir's bloodied form. "Heal him, he says! As though it was the simplest thing in the world! Especially after bloody Vairg had his way with him!"

D'khoreh's ears lowered and he slowly began to walk over to the bed, gaze falling upon the Viera with a soft "oh" leaving him. "..V-Vairg.. did that..?" The Seeker's gaze diverted, an obvious frown on his features as he kept words unspoken for a moment. He soon extended his hands out over the Viera's body, a gentle surge of aether, dimly lit with a blue glow seeping from his fingers. "..I-.. I saw Eanwin.. hurry towards the cells.. I'm not so sure it's.. nonsense.." The last word left him more akin to a whisper, even if it was still loud enough for the fellow Seeker to hear.

"Mh, probably not, no. But if it stops her yelling at me for half a bell, i'll take it." Q'kura sighs from his nose. One sharp lurch to the side, he steadies himself as he continues healing, eyes somewhat bleary from the focus. "It would have been easier to leave him dead, but here we are. Vairg fully intended to kill him." The wound at Eir's torso had been at least sealed, enough to stop the bleeding, and keep him somewhat stable.

"She's.. probably just.. stressed..?" D'khoreh's ears flattened as he spoke, offering the tiniest of grimaces at his own words - well aware Eanwin was no more pleasant when she wasn't stressed. ".. Did.. Gr-.. the.. boss.. just change his mind..?" Not so secretly, D'khoreh was thankful the Viera had not died that sun.. Yet with his injury, it might've been a kinder thing.

"She's always bloody stressed!" Q'kura chirps back, eyeing D'khoreh over his shoulder. "I don't know. Doesn't look like Vairg knew any different though. I don't feel like asking him, though. Do you?" A raised brow is given, which held long enough for Q'kura to half-faint, catching himself against the bed. "...Ugh. I... I need to sit down. Just for five minutes. You have this, yes? Good." Q'kura does exactly that, moving to a chair a short walk away.

"-- No." The words left D'khoreh swiftly, ears pinning down fully and a sharp shake of his head being given. He absolutely did not want to ask. His gaze flickers up to Q'kura as he sways, a hint of worry in his eyes. "..I-.. uh-.. O-..okay.." His head dipped for his focus to settle atop of Eir, hair falling in front of his face as it normally does - hiding away the tiny frown that clung to his features and the pity that swiftly took to his gaze now that Q'kura couldn't see it. The flow of aether continues in a gentle, steady stream - seeping into the Viera's body with great care.

[Q’kura] ...Just a few moments to sit down. Then we’ll finish up. He won’t just die from nothing; especially not if Vairg can do a number on him and he somehow survives!

I wager it was the ice. Maybe... Maybe it did something. Sealed the wound, stopped him bleeding out. Slowed his heart down... I don’t know. I’ll discuss the finer points of it, maybe, when Eanwin doesn’t feel like ripping my head off.

"D'khoreh." Q'kura called from his chair, head lulled back to hit the wall behind him. His glasses fall askew, and a single finger moves up to right them. "...Just enough to keep him alive, yes? We don't want him running off or attacking someone. He did kill Athilda." Though listening, Q'kura certainly isn't looking, eyes shut as he rested back in the seat.

".. Nelli said it was an accident.. That he's.. not really violent.." D'khoreh's ears drooped and he glanced towards Q'kura.

"Mnnh..." The sound from Q'kura was neither agreement nor protest, simply that D'khoreh had been heard. "Didn't seem... Like..." Half a sentence leaves his lips, before it dawdles off into silence; Q'kura had decidedly fallen asleep.

With Q'kura's voice trailing into silence, D'khoreh fully raises his head to look the Seeker's way. A quick glance shot around the room in search of anyone else.. making him realise he was unsupervised. A deep but mute breath was drawn, as he tapped into his aether to pour more of it out. Rather than just covering Eir's side, the glow wanders his body in search for injuries unseen to the eye, while further trailing to the Viera's broken leg as he began to focus on fixing it while still keeping some of his aether pouring into his side. D'khoreh had, promptly, opted to not follow Q'kura's orders.

Q'kura's exhaustion pulled him into a deeper sleep with every passing minute, allowing D'khoreh to work unobstructed for some time. Bones were mended and healed, the wound lessened, though was still surely tender no matter how much healing was poured into it; too much would have caused aether sickness, and too little would have seen it rupture anew. It's only after several long, long minutes that there's any kind of change. 

Eir takes a far deeper breath than he had; enough to fill his lungs properly. His eyes shift beneath their lids, heralding his wakefulness...

D'khoreh held out, carefully distributing the aether evenly once the desired effect had taken place. The Viera's deep breath is enough to make the Seeker flinch, widened, pale eyes peeking forth between sandy and blue locks of hair to settle its gaze upon Eir's face.

Another deep breath... And another. Eir sputters awake, wheezing as some semblance of life flooded back to him. Silver eyes slowly crack open, blurry in their view... And another gasp steals his breath. His heart begins to race, eyes growing teary as he began turn his head, unable to do little more than barely shuffle in his condition. "No... N-no..." He breathes, threatening a sob.

D'khoreh's draw of aether ceases, settling as he raises a finger to his lips, hushing quietly and softly. "..Please! Don't be afraid.." He whispered.

The swell of Eir's lungs seemed to hover full of air, tearful eyes turned on the Miqo'te who stood so close to him. Already unable to see and impaired further by the emotion that bubbled up and brought forth tears, Eir stares in fear to the man before him, and calls out with a shaky, fearful voice. "J...Juhni'a...?" He swallows, wavering. "A-am i... Dead...?"

[Eir] I... I died... I...

Juny...? Did... Did you wait...? No...

No no... No...  I cannot die now, i cannot! I have to live!

I cannot leave her alone!

".. Shh.. I-.. No-.. My name is D'khoreh.." The Seeker's ears flattened, saddened at the sight. ".. No.. no. You're alive.."

He couldn't see. Not well, and not properly, and the thought of it brought back so much from the last his vision had fled him. It was clear he couldn't fully trust his senses, having been so close to the brink of death, remaining wordless for a little longer. Eir balls his hand in the fabric at his shirt, feeling how the dried blood hardened and cracked between his thumb and hand. "A-alive...?" He began, in disbelief. "How? H-how...? I..." It comes reeling back; the sensation, the shock, the biting pain... The cold. "---Sayuri? Where... Where is she?"

"I-.. I'm not sure.." D'khoreh paused, a quiet sigh leaving him. ".. I'm not sure if I should call you lucky or not.." His brows furrowed, head tilting ever so slightly. ".. Sayuri..?-- Oh. I.. guess that'd be X'llaya..-- In her cell, probably.."

"She... She is--- No...N-no..." Despite his panic, there was little he could do to express it, writhing in some futile attempt to move away. "I... I do not want to go... I... I d-do not want her to be alone..." He gathers himself, turning his head again. "-Juny-." He says, in complete disbelief. "I... I cannot. N-not... Right now. I... H-have to live..."

"..Please! You're alive, but you've also just gone through extensive healing.. You'll hurt yourself.." D'khoreh nigh whimpered, gently seeking to grip Eir's closest hand. "Be still, please.."

The hand D'khoreh held was gripped like iron, squeezing before he finally lets up after a few moments, slumping back into the bed. "I.. I cannot leave her alone... I cannot... I... I..." Tears spill down his cheeks from the grief of it, and the agony sets into his side as the pain before more apparent once again. "I-is she... O-okay?" He whimpers, holding his breath for an answer.

[Eir] I am dead? I am dead... Am i?

I...

...Sayuri. I... I need to know if she is okay. Her eyes... She... She looked so sad...

Did they hurt her? After i had gone?

...Is she okay?

"I-.. I haven't.. seen her.. My-.. my sister said that she was taken back downstairs, though.." D'khoreh offered an attempt of a comforting squeeze of Eir's hand. "..I.. can't tell you more.. I'm sorry.."

His lips curl into a frown at the less than decisive answer, holding the offered hand as though it were the last bastion of comfort, and a long silence follows. Eir manages to swallow enough to still his tears a little, blinking through the blur that refused to shift. "I... I am not dead...?" He asks again.

D'khoreh's head shook gently. ".. No, you're alive." A brief pause, before he continued. ".. S-still in the compound, I'm afraid.." Genuine pity clung to his voice as he spoke, the Seeker clearly emphathetic for the Viera's circumstances.

Eir quietly processed the information given, offering a weak nod of his head as he stifled himself. "Th-that... That is okay." He agrees, refusing to let go of his hand. "Wh... What will happen to me?" Eir asks hesitantly, closing his eyes again.

[Eir] I...  I am alive. Alive...

But not free. Still here.

Here, with her. I... Need to survive. For her.

"..I-.. I don't know.. I'm sorry.." D'khoreh whispered, gripping Eir's hand a little tighter. "..I-.. I don't.. get told things.."

"That... That is okay..." It wasn't much of a comfort, but Eir fought and failed to keep his tears from spilling anew. "I... I a-am..." He swallows his words, shaking with a sob that devolved into a pained whimper, his free hand now settling on the angry red scar that decorated his lower torso. Face contorting into one of horror, he wrenches his hand away, turning his head into the pillow as he squeezed his eyes closed. "H-how... Long have you... Been here?"

".. A-are you in pain..? I.. I can try to lessen it.." D'khoreh's tone held a vast amount of worry, ears flat on his skull. ".. Three cycles, now.."

"Hurts... I-it hurts..." Eir wept, though mentioned no pain in particular. "I... I cannot... Do this. Not for so long. Not for much... L-longer..." The grief threatens to swallow him, jumping from one subject to the next. "She... S-she held me. She held me, a-as i..." He sounds as though he'd scream, but no sound leaves him any more audible than a whisper. "She w-was... So -close-..."

D'khoreh's free hand found itself to Eir's side - hovering over it as a gentle surge of aether trickled forth. He sought to soothe the Viera's pain, assuming that was the problem. His head lowers a touch as he considers his next words, uncertain if they will help.. or make things worse. "..There-.. There's some who.. have been here longer.. Who.. don't want to be.." His words left him with some hesitation, a deeper breath being drawn as he anxiously passed a glance to Q'kura to make sure he was still asleep. ".. L-like Vex.. She-.. She's been here a long time.. or Eyja.."

"I cannot.. I cannot..." He repeats, the thought of a lifetime in these chambers enough to wrench a sound of total grief from his lips. The sensation of gentle aether ebbed the pain away, and after a few moments Eir squeezes the hand he still held, desperately unwilling to release it. "Th... Thank you." He manages, staring as he blinks, as some effort to better see. "You... You are...? I--- S-sorry. I...  I have forgotten..." The question was half babbled as words lept into and out of Eir's thoughts.

"They-.. they are members.. by-.. by force.." D'khoreh explained. ".. As-.. as am I.." He added, returning a soft squeeze of his own hand to Eir's. His gaze lift to meet the Viera's, an almost pained but genuine smile on his lips. "..D'khoreh."

[Eir] He... He is a kind soul. I find it difficult to trust anyone beneath this roof, but... I... I think i could trust him.

There is so much still he does not know... So much they do not tell him.

It makes me wonder how many people like him there are.

Eir nods, committing the name to memory even though he opted not to speak it. "...I... I do not know how... How much longer i will be here." He admits, a little bitterly. "I... I do not know what i could possibly do f-for them, now... Th-that they have her..."

"..I-.. I don't know, I'm afraid.." The Seeker frowned weakly. "He-.. Grym, that is- It--.. It isn't easy to tell what he has in mind.. less so, for one of my rank.."

"He... H-he is h-horrible." Eir swallows, but the frown never quite leaves his lips. "I... J-just want to go home. I... W-want to go home, and forget this ever h-happened. I w-want to share persimmons, and r-read, and..." He fills his lungs to dare ask a question. "H-has... Anyone -ever- got out...?"

".. He is.." D'khoreh's agreement was little more than a whisper, an anxious stare being sent Q'kura's way, just in case - certainly not wanting his opinion to be returned to the Sea Wolf. Eir's question makes D'khoreh's head lower, ears flat on his skull. "..Besides.. being sold.. Not-.. alive.." He paused, brows furrowing. "..My friend, Vex.. she.. she has run away several times.. but.. they keep dragging her back.."

[Eir] The girl... Outside the door. I heard her yell at the Viera...

There is no way out of here. Except to be sold. Or to die. I...

Is... Is that what they have planned for me? To become like him, and live here in servitude? Or... Die?

Perhaps they plan to sell me after all.

I... I can not last much longer, here.

...I do not know how Sayuri lasted so long here as a child... I...

I do not want to think about it.

"S-so i... W-will be here." The sobbing begins again, as tears slowly fall down his cheeks. "U-until i die. I... I can imagine that will not be s-so much longer." He traces an index over the scar again, unfamiliar with the new addition. "I... I do not understand why... They made you... H-heal me. Why... Not just let me... Die?"

".. A-after the state you were in.. and people were told to heal you.. I-.. I don't see why they'd kill you.." D'khoreh frowned softly. "I.. was just the last addition.." He glanced to Q'kura once more, before back to Eir. ".. Q'kura over there, and.. Eanwin.. they healed you first.. Q'kura called me, when Eanwin's attention was required elsewhere.." He explained, keeping a tight yet gentle grasp of the Viera's hand. ".. I.. wish I knew.. I wish I could tell you more helpful things.."

"N-no... It... it is okay. I... I am thankful. I... Am alive." He swallows, steeling himself to the realisation even if doubt clawed at the edge of his thoughts. "Does... Does she know?"

D'khoreh gently shook his head. ".. My sister, she-.. she saw it all.. she said X'llaya had.. passed out by the time you could be approached.. Chances of her knowing is.. slim.."

"---Sayuri. H-her name is -Sayuri-." The small sliver of defiance he'd still clutched onto hangs in his tone. "...I will stay alive. F-for her. I... I cannot leave her alone..." Eir's brow knits, squeezing the hand again. "N-not here. Not... Anywhere. Not ever... A-again."

"-- S-Sayuri." D'khoreh corrects, ears flattening. "..S-sorry.. I-.. She's always been called X'llaya, here.." He almost looked ashamed for a moment, returning a small squeeze. "..I-.. I'd tell her, b-but.." A small look of fear took to him, then. "..I'm not..sure she'd believe me.. if I even managed to get to her.. I'm.. usually not allowed down there unsupervised.."

"She... She has to know..." Eir turns his gaze, as best he can, to D'khoreh. "Even... Even if it is not you. Please... She can not believe she is a-alone, here..."

Q'kura takes a sharp breath in and wakes with a start. Sitting bolt upright from the chair, he launches his glasses halfway across the room with a clatter.

[Q’kura] ...I wasn’t sleeping. I... My eyes were heavy.

...But he’s still here and doing as he’s told, i hope.

Eir falls silent, and after another small squeeze, releases D'khoreh's hand.

".. I-.." D'khoreh's sentence cuts out as Q'kura awakens, his attention slipping to the Seeker while his hand offers a final squeeze before releasing Eir's. The smallest of breezes seems to sweep around D'khoreh as he was notably startled, anxiety beginning to creep up on him..

"Mnh." Q'kura rises with a grunt, promptly reaching to dust off his glasses and set them back on his nose. He makes no acknowledgement that he'd even fallen asleep, but the frown told all. "Is he stable, D'khoreh?" He asks, looking over Eir, who had notably kept his eyes closed.

"-- Yes." D'khoreh spoke, lightly fidgeting with his hands. ".. Still unconscious, but stable." He half-lied.

Q'kura gives a cursory glance over Eir; there was nothing amiss, and the thought of sparing even another drop of aether to find out didn't appeal one bit. "...Good." He confirms, moving towards the door, then. "...I'm going to get some rest. And so should you, while you can." He indicates to D'khoreh that he fully intended for him to leave beforehand, as to not leave him unattended.

D'khoreh nodded slowly, casting a final glance to Eir before back to Q'kura. His hands lower, one discreetly shifting over to brush a finger against Eir's hand in a mute farewell before he wandered towards the door.

[Eir] I have to hold on. I have to stay alive, for her.

She can not be alone in this place...

...Even if they make her believe it.

#Muse: [Eir] #Chapter: [Midnight Hour] #FFXIV #IC #Writing #Short Story

[mitsmebinch]

Sleep 12

Sleep 1 : Sleep 2 : Sleep 3 : Sleep 4 : Sleep 5 : Sleep 6 : Sleep 7 : Sleep 8 : Sleep 9 : Sleep 10 : Sleep 11

Lina stirred from the chair she had fallen asleep in while watching over her younger sister, morning light sneaking through closed curtains. Her head whipped over to Reine, still draped over the chair Cyrus had placed her in the night before.

Lina pursed her lips, slowly drawing closer and pressing her fingers against Reine’s skin. Her heartbeat was normal, even if she was still sleeping.

It had been nearly three days since they had taken her from Klaus’ home, and still she was unable to wake for longer than a few minutes - terrified and disoriented every time.

“Cyrus,” Lina called as she exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. Her eyes drifted up to the security camera trained at the door.

“... I’m in the red room,” the speaker next to it cheeped after a long pause.

Lina made her way to the lowest floor in the compound, where they took prisoners for interrogations and pushed into the first room from the main stairs.

Cyrus stood bent over a shivering prisoner inside, bloodied tools scattered around him.

“I’m not finished yet,” Cyrus warned her, shaking one hand free of blood.

“I’ll watch,” she answered gleefully, leaning against the wall.

He studied her for a moment before returning to the task in front of him, a guard he had snagged from Klaus while rescuing Reine. “You were saying?” he growled.

“I don’t know what the compound was,” the man insisted, his words mispronounced with so many missing teeth. “I only got rid of the needles. P-please,” he cried as Cyrus reached to the floor to pick up a bloodied scalpel. “I swear, it was black. It, it… she would always get sick after he gave it to her. He’d lean her over the side of the bed so she wouldn’t drown in her own vomit.”

“How much did he give her each day?” Cyrus snapped, lining the scalpel up with the inside of the man’s thigh.

“Three milliliters, I think. I think it was three.”

“Ask him about the black marks.” Lina’s voice carried across the empty space between them.

“... The what…?” the man asked, sweat soaking through the front of his shirt.

“The black veins,” Lina explained, pushing off the wall and drawing closer, eyes wandering over which tool she should threaten him with. “On her arms and neck.”

The man squealed in fright as she decided on a large set of pliers, bending down slowly to retrieve them and watch his reaction.

“Well? I’d rather not get blood on this shirt,” she smiled, squeezing the handles together devilishly.

“Some kind of toxicity!” the man shouted.

Cyrus backhanded him. “Mind your manners.”

“Some kind of overdose, right?” the man lowered his voice obediently. “I saw some of the bodies they tested it on. They all had those marks.”

“... It killed them…?” Lina’s voice turned to ice in the man’s ears.

“Oh,” he startled, realizing she might actually be worse than Cyrus. “It… they tested it many times before he gave it to her. It…!” he shrieked as she pulled on his fingers out of a clenched fist and wedged it into the pliers’ jaws.

“Go on,” Lina snarled through her teeth.

“Corbin said it was safe,” the man whimpered, “I swear, it was safe. Just a toxicity… Th-They started to cut back on the dose when the lines showed up.”

She glared at the man in front of her, deciding if it would be a waste of Cyrus’ precious time to kill him before he had spilled absolutely everything.

“Did anyone ever survive the overdose?” Cyrus finally cut in, keeping his gaze carefully trained on Lina.

“Ye-Yeah, yes, Number 10 did. I remember seeing him after the tests up and walking around,” the man nodded, splattering blood onto Lina’s hand. “If you find Number 10, he’d tell you about it. I’m sure. I… I don’t know his actual name but…!”

“Did you ever administer the drug?” Lina cut him off, tightening the pliers’ grip on his finger.

“No!” he cried. “No! I, I never! We weren’t allowed to. It was always K-Klaus.”

“Lucky you,” Lina smiled, twisting the finger until it broke before throwing the pliers away and standing. “Good luck with the rest.”

Cyrus nodded as Lina stalked out of the room.

#ehhh it's sleep again #sleep #whump #writing #whumpee #whumper #writing idea #drugging #drugged #torture #whoops! its all whumpers #look lina was gonna be a sadist from the beginning nothing i can do about that #cyrus just needed answers he doesn't ~enjoy~ it like lina does #blood #pliers #prisoner #crying #interrogation #we stan dom!lina #and we stan protective!cyrus #at least i do #and i'm all that matters :) #reine's still passed the fuck out for this one sorry #body mutilation #mutilation #am i gonna do a chapter just about lina hurting people in the future? probably #i have taken creative liberty with the medical stuff because my knowledge is very limited to my specific field #and we don't use intravenous drugs very often

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 4)

Jacob Black x Fem!Vampire!Swan!Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Alright, cheese on three.” Charlie says, positioning the camera at his daughters and their prom dates. “Jacob, Edward, hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Don’t shoot.” Jacob wiggles his fingers to show that they are appropriately placed, for now.

“I assure you Chief Swan, Bella is in good hands.” Edward replies.

“Nobody likes a brown noser.” Jacob grumbles and Y/N elbows him in the ribs. “Ah!”

Charlie smiles proudly, “that’s my girl.”

“Come on Dad,” Bella sighs, “we’re gonna be late.”

“That’s my other girl,” the man says under his breath. “One, two, three.”

“Cheese,” Y/N grins.

Jacob beside her smiles like he swallowed the sun.

They are together and safe.

Bella’s mouth is twisted into a smirk and even Edward looks happy.

“That’s one for the grandkids.” Billy remarks from his chair.

Charlie murmurs something inaudible.

“Didn’t quite catch that.” Y/N cups a hand around her ear.

Charlie’s face softens. “You both look beautiful, that’s all.”

Bella flushes, not used to taking compliments.

The Y/H/C moves forward, pecking her father’s cheek.

Charlie rubs his fingers over the skin she touched, ice cold. But he doesn’t question it. Not so long as she’s here.

“Have a great time.” Billy waves the young lovers away.

“We will,” Jacob calls as they head for the door.

———————————————————————

Prom is nice. Returning to any kind of normal is nice. But it fades like a photograph left out in the sun.

Jacob is gone a lot, his responsibility to the pack is ever growing. At night he is exhausted. Climbing through Y/N’s bedroom window to sleep with her chilled frame pressed up against him.

“Baby,” Jacob murmurs in his sleep, “my baby.” His hold on her tightens.

“I’m here,” Y/N whispers; tracing the line between his worried brows. “I love you, Jacob.”

“Luh you,” he sighs, then let’s out a loud snore.

Y/N chuckles to herself, head resting on his chest. Listening to the sound of his beating heart, the peaceful intake of breath.

So perfect, so warm, so alive.

A finger draws patterns on his skin, allowing him to sleep until morning. Which comes all too soon.

She’s lonely then, in a way she never has been before. Jealousy pangs in her chest, seeing the ease with which Bella is adjusting to the world of mythical creatures. Taking confident strides where Y/N stumbles. Almost like Bella was made for this.

Made for Edward in every way. Her scent appealing, her temperature enticing, her mind a fortress like none other.

“Happy Birthday Bella!” Y/N sings, as the brunette creeps down the stairs for school.

Charlie had apparently beat her to it, Bella is already holding a new scrap book and camera.

“Thanks,” Bella clicks the button and a flash snaps at their sister.

Y/N is wearing an oversized flannel shirt that the Bella assumes to be Jacob’s. Not a hair out of place, too painfully beautiful to be human.

Bella envies that more than she will ever admit. Y/N will never get any older. Frozen in time, just like Edward.

“So Alice called. Said they’re having a party for you tonight.” This is news to Bella. “They invited me and my plus one.”

“You and Jake should come.” Bella encourages, maybe they can cut through some of their tension with the Cullens. “It’ll be fun.”

“House full of vampires sounds like fun to you?” Y/N scrunches her nose.

“One human, a werewolf and several vampires.” Bella ticks off on her fingers. “What could do wrong?”

Y/N sighs, “I’ll text Jacob.”

His reply comes during geometry, ‘what should I wear?’

‘Well, Alice gave me a blue dress that I’m required to wear.’ Y/N taps at the keyboard, pressing send with a roll of her eyes.

‘Required?’ The phone hums almost immediately.

‘No shirt, no shoes, no service.’ Y/N smiles at her come back. Then adds, ‘meet me at my house after school. I’m making Bella a cake and I need someone to taste test.’

‘I’m so there!’ Jacob would never turn down food. ‘I’ll find a shirt.’

———————————————————————

“Hey,” Alice opens the Cullen’s door for Y/N and Jacob. “You look great! I knew that dress was perfect.”

“Thanks,” Y/N runs her hands over the front of the silky material.

Alice leans in for a hug, surprising Y/N.

“Oh,” Y/N pats her back awkwardly.

“I can take that.” Jasper extends a hand to Jacob.

“Sure, yeah.” Jacob shrugs, allowing the vampire to take the chocolate cake and wrapped presents.

They reek worse than Y/N.

“Is the birthday girl here?” Y/N takes a tentative step inside.

“She’s changing upstairs,” Alice squeals in excitement. “Come on,” she grabs Y/N’s hand, leading her through the hallway into the living room.

Jacob hesitates in the entry way, the pixie’s blonde counterpart making eyes at him.

“You’re uncomfortable,” Jasper says.

“That’s an understatement.”

“You worry about her.”

“Kinda my job.”

Jasper pauses, looking him up and down. “There’s pain here. Helplessness.”

“Can you bloodsuckers stay out of my head for five minutes?” Jacob snaps.

“I’m not in your head.” Jasper half smirks, “it radiates off you.”

“Perfect, great.” Jacob hates it here. “Can we go now?”

“She’s happy. Here with you and Bella and us.” The vampire stops him. “But she worries too.”

“I better-“ Jacob jerks his thumb in the direction that Y/N and Alice have disappeared.

Jasper lets him pass, “of course.”

Bella joins them after a moment, dazzled by the scene before her. The music is soft in the background, smiling faces gaze up at her. All pale and beautiful. Jacob stands out like a sore thumb.

“Happy Birthday!” Alice pounces on her first, gifts at the ready. Even from Rosalie, who is less than thrilled to be celebrating.

“Uh thanks.” Bella accepts the parcel, opening it to peek inside.

“It’s a necklace,” Rosalie spoils the surprise. “Alice picked it out.”

“Cool,” Bella shakes it off.

“I made you a cake,” Y/N offers. “It’s chocolate, used to be your favorite. I don’t know-“

“That’s perfect!” Bella wasn’t expecting cake at all. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble. You know, since I’m the only one who eats.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” Jacob reminds her. “I licked the bowl Bells, it’s amazing.”

“We should sing,” Esme smiles. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen a birthday.

“No, please don’t.” A blush burns on Bella’s cheeks.

“Too late,” Edward whispers, sympathetically.

The candles are placed and lit at inhuman speed.

“Happy birthday to you,” Y/N leads the choir.

“Happy birthday to you.” The Cullens chime in.

“Happy birthday dear Bella,” the brunette turns her face into Edward’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday to you.”

“Make a wish.” Edward kisses the top of her head.

Bella does, closing her eyes as she blows out the candles. She wishes things could stay like this.

They dance, Bella and Jake eat cake. Everyone gets along, it’s better than any of them thought possible. Maybe, just maybe, this can work. Maybe it can be this easy.

“Alright, we’ve got a shit ton more presents and the human needs her beauty rest.” Emmett announces, a heap of boxes in his arms.

“Get to work Bella,” Y/N smiles.

Bella shakes her head, “I can’t accept all of this.”

“You absolutely can,” Edward argues.

“Which one’s from you?” Bella asks her sister.

“Start with this one.” Y/N plucks a small box from the pile. “It’s not perfect, but Jacob is teaching me.”

“She’s being modest,” Jacob counters, “cranked that one out in twenty minutes.”

Bella wonders what it could be. Peeling back the wrapping she finds a silver bracelet with a hand carved wooden ‘B’ hanging in the center. “This is beautiful.” She marvels, holding it up into the light.

“You like it?” Y/N asks.

“I love it.” Bella sighs, “thank you. Can you help me put it on?”

Y/N leans forward, mindful of the delicate clasp and her even more delicate sister. “There,” she says proudly.

Edward smiles at their exchange. “Now it’s my turn.”

“I told you, no presents.” Bella frowns at him.

Edward places it in her lap anyway.

Halfway through removing the paper Bella winces, “paper cut.”

Blood oozes from the wound.

“Hey,” Jacob catches Y/N’s face in his hands. “It’s just a little blood.”

Y/N replies with a tortured sound, “Bella.”

“She’s ok,” The wolf assures her.

All the golden eyes fall on the birthday girl.

Edward, having read Jasper’s mind, shoves Bella out of the way. Not adjusting his force, he sends her through the tempered glass table. Her blood pouring freely from fresh wounds.

Edward jumps to her defense, throwing Jasper back into the piano.

Y/N is on fire, but she is in control. Rising to her sister’s aid. Crouching protectively in front of her, the movement tearing a slit in the Y/H/C’s dress.

Jacob is there, all but fuming, still human, until Jasper snaps his teeth at him. His body contorts so quickly into the reddish brown wolf that Bella can hardly believe her eyes.

The animal comes to stand beside his mate, chest heaving as they draw a firm line between the Cullens and Bella. They are out numbered, but they will fight.

Carlisle is the one to skirt behind Y/N and Jacob to tend Bella’s wounds as Emmett is finally able to restrain Jasper. Alice soothes him into submission and removes him from the house.

One by one the Cullens leave, all accept for the doctor. Edward is last, looking utterly worn down.

“Y/N,” Carlisle calls her attention softly. “I’m going to stitch Bella up in my office. You should wait outside.”

Y/N stands upright, making that sound again. The terrible one that keeps Jacob up at night. Reaching a trembling hand out she finds his fur, grounding herself.

The wolf leans into her touch, a whine sounds from low in his throat. Y/N is in pain, therefore so is he. He nuzzles her ribcage, left exposed by her hold on him.

The exchange so intimate that Bella tears her gaze away. “It’s ok, Y/N. I’m ok.”

At this the Y/H/C takes a reluctant step toward the door. “I’m so sorry, Bella.”

“We need to talk,” the words tumble from Edward’s mouth the moment Y/N’s feet touch the solid ground beyond the steps of the Cullen home.

“I have nothing to say.” Y/N states numbly, releasing her hold on Jacob. The wolf backs away, giving her space but staying close enough to comfort her.

“Please,” Edward breathes. “It’s important.”

———————————————————————-

Edward leaves. Leaves behind a shell of Bella, taking pieces of her with him that she will never get back. That is his grand solution to the ‘problem’ he created.

Months pass. Y/N and Charlie are at a loss. Trying to navigate around the hole in Bella’s chest. But nothing helps. Time moves around her, without her.

Things between Y/N and Jacob are still strained. Her duty is to Bella and his to the pack. Their inability to turn away from either one leaves them stretched thin.

Bella has nightmares constantly. Dreams of being left, dreams of being alone. Y/N stays in Bella’s room, hoping to keep them at bay. Even her nights no longer belong to Jacob. Still they go through the motions, hoping that the smaller details will hammer themselves out.

“So uh, Dad tells me that I need to get out of the house or he’s sending me to Jacksonville.” Bella tells her sister, eyes fixed on the front tire of her truck as she kicks it.

“I’ll talk to him. He’s just worried about you. We all are.” Y/N explains.

“No, you don’t need to worry.” Bella tucks a bit of hair behind her ear.

“Bella-“

“I was actually hoping I could third wheel.“ Bella interrupts, “with you and Jake. What are you doing later?”

“Anything you want.” Y/N reaches for her phone.

“We could just… hangout.”

“Ok.” The vampire eyes her warily. “Jacob has a motorcycle, by the way. If you wanted a ride you could’ve asked, no need to drive off with some creep.”

Bella huffs, “Jessica told you about that?”

“It’s high school Bella.” Y/N laughs, “Jessica told everyone.”

“Great,” Bella shakes her head, “that’s really great.”

“Mhm.”

“I was also gonna ask…if you know any good mechanics.” Bella bites her bottom lip.

“I know a very good mechanic,” Y/N leans against the cab of Bella’s truck, “cheap too. He pretty much rebuilt my entire car in exchange for pizza and sexual favors.”

Bella’s eyes widen, “Jacob was ok with that?”

“Jacob was the mechanic,” the corner of Y/N’s mouth twitches. What a time. “He was more than ok with it. Although I do think he dragged out the rebuild a bit.”

“That makes a lot more sense.” Bella stuffs her hands into her pockets.

“So what’d you need a mechanic for? Is the truck giving you trouble?” The Y/H/C cocks her head to the side.

“No it runs like a charm. But seeing as you brought up bikes, I saved one from the scrap yard. I was hoping to fix it up.”

“Jacob might be up for a new project.”

“As long as you cover the second half of the payment arrangement, I’m good for the pizza.” Bella smiles, Y/N hasn’t seen her smile in months, not since Edward left.

Y/N bumps her shoulder playfully. “Let me call Jacob.”

———————————————————————

“Scrap metal and pizza,” Jacob muses, watching Bella and Y/N park the truck, “you shouldn’t have.”

“I told her you’re the best mechanic I know.” Y/N winks.

“Cheap too,” Bella adds.

“So you told her about that thing you used to-“

“Not in detail you dirty dog.” Y/N chastises, no heat behind her words as Jacob wraps his arms around her. She whispers something in his ear that brings color to his cheeks and a grin to his lips.

“Down girl.” Jacob swats her behind playfully, “alright Bella, show me what we’re working with.”

Y/N steps out of the way, watching as her sister uncovers the bike frame.

“I get it if you think this is really stupid-“ Bella runs a hand through her hair.

“Very stupid, it’s gonna cost you tons of pizza.” Jacob cuts her off, lifting the machine with ease.

“So, I gotta ask.” Bella’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Who’s the strongest?”

“Me,” Jacob replies.

“I am,” Y/N says at the same time.

Bella immediately regrets asking, they continue shoving at each other and laughing all the way into the garage.

Bella takes a look around, tools and spare parts litter the ground. Photos of Y/N hang everywhere, mostly notable human Y/N. A few are new, the difference isn’t tremendously, because of the contacts; but Bella can spot it.

“Wow,” Bella sinks back, “you’ve got like a full shrine in here.”

“I prefer collage,” Jacob chuckles, “but tomato, tamoto.”

Y/N exchanges a private look with her boyfriend. She has never loved or been loved the way she is with Jacob.

“You had a ton of hair Jake,” Bella points at the nearest picture. Jacob’s dark hair hanging past his shoulders, an arm slung around Y/N’s neck. They look happy, impossibly so. She might envy them if she didn’t know better.

“Yeah, I did.” Jacob nods, leaning against the body of a vintage car he recently finished gutting.

“Why did you cut it?” Bella can’t help but wonder.

“It’s a wolf thing,” Jacob divulges. “The longer our hair in human form, the longer our fur.”

“Can’t have it getting in your eyes,” Bella understands.

“Exactly,” Jacob claps his hand together, “so tell me this, do you know the difference between a Phillips head and a flat head screw driver?”

———————————————————————

Things are better in their company, Bella feels almost normal again. Her heart doesn’t ache as much. Until the first day Y/N starts flaking on the bike rebuild.

She doesn’t read too much into it, until the third day. “So where is Y/N anyway?” Bella asks, waiting near the garage door for the pizza delivery.

“Baby steps,” Jacob pulls up a stool for her. “She won’t stay long and she won’t come everyday.” He sighs, “do you still want me to fix the bike?”

“I- yes. Thank you,” Bella rakes a hand through her hair. “I just figured she’d be happy, you know? With Edward gone, less vampires in the area, should mean less Quileutes joining the pack.”

“You still don’t get it Bella.” Jacob stills, moving the wrench away from is work. “Y/N begged him to stay.”

“But she didn’t even like the Cullens.” Bella looks away, utterly confused.

“She loves you and she knew how heartbroken you would be.” Jacob lowers his voice, as if not to farther startle her.

Bella swallows down her guilt. “I didn’t know.”

“Just don’t tell her I told you that.” Jacob presses his lips together, returning to work.

“Secret’s safe with me,” Bella stares down her feet.

———————————————————————

The window of Y/N’s room stays opened, open to possibility, open to him.

Tonight Jacob shows.

“Mr. Black,” the vampire smiles. Shifting up on her knees to meet Jacob at foot of her bed. “Are you here to collect your payment?” She trails a finger over his chest.

The wolf smirks, catching her wandering hand and bringing it to his lips, “I’m interested in something a little different this time.”

“Oh?” Y/N arches a brow. “Well name your price.”

“First, just explain to me which part of being with me forever freaks you out.”

“Honestly?” She squints, “no part of it.”

“So why do you shut down every time I talk about life after Forks?” He whispers.

“I just- we’ll fight.”

“We already fight.” Jacob points out, “and here we still are.”

“We’ll grow apart.”

“I highly doubt that,” Jacob grounds out. “What’s it gonna take for you to commit to me?”

“Jake, I am committed.” Y/N stammers.

“Then why in the hell are you fighting me so hard?” Jacob can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t want to be seventeen forever.” Y/N searches his brown eyes with her orange ones. “I don’t want to matriculate every ten years. I don’t want a wall full of graduation caps or to repeat high school until I know every element of the periodic table by heart. I’m stuck.” She motions to herself. “You’re not.”

Jacob recoils as if she slapped him.

“You can have a life, you can go to college and get married and have kids. You can go forward, I can’t.” She pauses, mustering her courage. “I want forever with you, Jacob. But I won’t do that to you…not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“I want to be stuck, dummy.” Jacob caresses her temple with his knuckles. “We can go to college, we can get married, we can try to have kids. And if we can’t, I will be more than happy just to have you. Let me show you how good it can be.”

“I know it would be good.” Y/N shakes her head, but she won’t allow herself to want it.

“You want me to walk away.” Jacob knows her. “You want me to throw in the towel and say it’s too much but I won’t. Not after I’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“We don’t have to do this to each other.”

“Yes we do.” Jacob growls, “which part of stay with me forever was too subtle for you?”

———————————————————————

Y/N tries after that, really tries to be there for Jacob the way she used to…before.

She starts small, with Bella. Introducing her sister to the people who had once been her friends.

Jake is handling something near the northern boarder with Sam and Quil. Nothing major, or so he says.

The vampire decides that Emily’s place will be the easiest to start making amends. Knocking quickly against the screen door, before she can lose her nerve.

“Y/N,” Sam’s fiancé smiles warily, when she finds the Swan sisters on her doorstep.

“Hi Emily.” Y/N waves, “this is my sister, Bella.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emily replies.

“Can we come in?” Y/N sighs, this will be interesting.

Emily hesitates, then drawing in a deep breath, swings the door open fully. “Of course. The guys should be back soon. For now just Paul and Embry.”

“Fucking Paul,” Y/N chuckles, despite herself.

“Is something wrong with Paul?” Bella whispers. She hasn’t seen him since they were all kids.

The second they enter the kitchen Bella’s fears are put to rest.

“Come here,” Paul chases Y/N around the table twice before she finally allows him to catch her. After locking her head in place the wolf gives her several noogies.

“Paws off,” she laughs.

“Paul,” Emily says in warning.

“What?” The wolf throws up his hands. “I haven’t seen my favorite vampire in months.”

“I would say I haven’t seen my favorite wolf either, but…” Y/N squints at him.

“Hey Bella.” Paul turns his attention to the new comer. “Your sister thinks she’s funny.”

“I am funny!” The vampire flattens out her hair when Paul releases her.

“Were funny, you’re all broody and serious now.” Embry points at her.

“What?” Y/N scoffs, “I am not broody.”

“Yeah right,” Paul can’t believe his ears. “You can’t hide from Jacob’s obsessive inner monologue anymore than we can.”

“Well, let’s hear it.” Y/N challenges, taking a seat although she doesn’t tire.

“I wish Y/N would show up,” Paul gets the ball rolling.

“I wish Y/N would show up and not leave.” Embry adds on.

“Maybe I should make her stay,” Paul laughs.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Emily chastises. “You’ll scare her away.”

“I don’t scare easy,” Y/N smiles, “and you know why I can’t be here all the time.”

“You turn men into animals. Literally. Figuratively. It’s a compliment really.” Paul nudges her playfully.

“Sure,” Y/N arches a brow and changes the subject. “Emily is a great cook.”

“And baker, not to toot my own horn or anything.” The woman places a fresh plate of muffins on the table.

Y/N closes her eyes, “I just know that smells heavenly. Have one for me.”

“Do you mind?” Bella motions toward the baked goods.

“No! Please, take as many as you’d like.” Emily encourages.

“You know back before….when I could eat,” Y/N clarifies. “Jacob and I would hang here as much as we could.”

“They’d have full blown foodgasms.” Embry remembers like it was yesterday.

“Sounds like I dodged a bullet,” Bella blinks.

“I miss food,” Y/N laments, “I miss-“

“Me?” Jacob suggests from the doorway.

The Y/H/C joins him at vampire speed. “The guys were just telling me how much you think about me.”

Jacob let’s out a disapproving sigh, “just couldn’t keep your mouths shut, huh?”

“At least we didn’t let Leah lay into her.” Paul points out.

“Leah?” Y/N peers over at Jacob.

“It’s nothing.” Jacob presses a chaste kiss to her worried brow.

The woman in question bumps the vampire’s shoulder on her way through the door. “If you’re here to torture Jacob some more feel free to leave.”

A growl rumbles out low in Jacob’s chest, a protective arm pulling Y/N flush against him. Their skin sending up smoke where it meets. “Leave it alone, Leah.”

The female wolf lowers her eyes.

“Jake,” Y/N taps his chest. “It’s ok, I…deserved that.”

“You deserve respect,” Jacob snaps. His primitive nature boiling a little too close to the surface.

“They respect me enough to tell me the truth.”

Jacob bares his teeth.

“Just say it. I wanna hear it from you,” Y/N challenges.

“That’s not-“ Jacob shakes his head to clear it. “Come with me.”

“But Bella-“

“The pack will protect her,” they have orders.

“I-“

“Please,” Jacob cuts Y/N off with finality.

After a nod from Bella, Y/N follows Jacob out the door.

“She’s gonna get it now,” Quil remarks.

“Should we go after them?” Bella stands up immediately. “What if they hurt each other?”

“It’s dangerous to interfere with a wolf and their imprint.” Sam’s voice fills the room.

“But you’ve gotta have a death wish to get between Jacob and Y/N.”

—————————————————————

Jacob leads her leisurely beyond the tree line.

“So,” Y/N begins, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He runs both hands over his face. “I thought…that things would be different.”

“Well I was thinking about- your responsibility to the pack. I’ve been trying to protect them too.”

“How?” Jacob demands. “You’re never damn here.”

“That’s the point! Jacob don’t you see?” How can she make him understand? “I don’t belong here anymore.”

“You belong with me,” Jacob insists.

“I want to believe that,” she does. “But I understand that being in the same room as me makes their blood boil. They can never relax, even though I wish that wasn’t true. Even though they’ll deny it.”

“The pack just needs more time.” Jacob reasons, everything happened so fast. “They need to see for themselves, not just through my eyes. But you have to be here for that to happen. You have to stop running away.”

Y/N flinches, “I’m not running.”

“You are,” Jacob grimaces, “whether it’s intentional or not.”

“I was only trying to be helpful. Even though it tears me apart. Being away from you kills me, Jake.”

“There’s a council meeting tonight at sundown. It would be good for the tribe to see you there.” They can make this better, or it can keep getting worse. “We start by building trust with those who are unsure.”

“What if they won’t accept me? I’m not gonna make you choose between me and the pack.” That’s been her fear all this time.

“I would choose you.” Jacob clenches his fists.

“I know…that’s why I would never ask you to do that. They need you to lead them Jacob.” He was born for this.

“And I need you. They will accept that, most already do.”

“How do you know?”

Jacob rocks back on his heels, “do you remember the last council meeting that you came to? Like two weeks before you…changed.”

Y/N nods.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Jacob is still freaked out by the whole thing.

“Honey, vampires don’t faint.”

“Right,” Jacob breathes, “well I’m gonna sit.” Because he might. The wolf backs up, finding purchase against a tree and sliding down to the ground.

Y/N kneeling beside him, uses a finger to turn his face toward her.

“What if I told you that this isn’t the first lifetime we’re meeting?” He looks scared and lost, his eyes search hers frantically.

“I would,” Y/N pauses, that didn’t seem impossible. Knowing Jacob in another life seemed nice. “Reincarnation?”

“You didn’t think it’d just be vampires and werewolves, did you?” Jacob jests, even though the world is weighing down on him.

“Well,” Y/N lets out an unnecessary puff of air, “do you like…remember me? How I was?”

“Yes and no,” Jacob admits, his thoughts far away. “It happened after the first time I phased. Once I became Alpha it got more intense. The flashbacks. I thought at first it was just because of all the history lessons the council was trying to cram in. But everything started to get jumbled up, you and them. Me and them. I guess because it was always me and you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N whispers, feeling his jaw tense beneath her fingers.

“The alpha finds his mate, only to lose her again. Most times later in life, I thought we had more time.” Jacob breaks off, “then I watched you die.”

Y/N inches closer.

“I knew it was real.” He felt it in his bones. “I knew what I was supposed to do. What werewolves do to vampires.”

“Kill,” she understands.

“I couldn’t do it.” Jacob relaxes into her touch as she cards his hair. “That’s why everything feels so out of control.” He pauses, “you’ve never made it this far in any time line.”

“Who was I before? Any honorable mentions?” Y/N wonders, ribbing him lightly.

“It’s mostly mental jibberish. But I could never forget my third and favorite wife.” Jacob smiles, bumping her shoulder.

“Did I kill the first two?” She snarks.

“No, you were a bit more…tame back then,” submissive even. This version of her, the one he truly got to know, to grow up with, fall in love with, is his favorite by far.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century.” Y/N murmurs, “in this lifetime I’m gonna be your only wife.”

“Only one I want. Only one I can handle, shit.” Jacob adds, with a shake of his head. “Taha Aki must’ve been on something.”

“Anything else I should know, chief?” Y/N inquires.

“Two days ago we took out a vampire, red eyes, dreads, wearing a suit without a shirt underneath.”

“Hot.” Y/N purses her lips.

“You familiar?” Jacob scowls. Now who’s lost their sense of humor?

“I remember Edward saying a nomad group came across them playing baseball with Bella. The ones who were with the tracker. We should ask her. See if the description jogs her memory.”

Jacob nods, “there’s another. A woman with red hair. We chased her all the way to the Canadian border last night. But she keeps coming back. We’re trying figure out what she wants.”

“That sounds personal,“ Y/N crosses both arms over chest. “Vampires don’t hunt that way.”

“That’s what I thought.” They don’t play with their food.

Part 5

#jacob twilight #jacob black x y/n #jacob black x you #jacob black fanfiction #jacob black imagine #jacob black x reader #jacob black #twilight x you #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight #alice cullen #edward cullen #jasper hale #rosalie hale #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #bella swan #charlie swan #billy black #sam uley #paul lahote #quil ateara #leah clearwater #Emmett Cullen #Spotify

[quietmyfearswith]

needy little ; preferences

warnings —  DDLG, swearing, mentions of longing/missing someone,  mentions of leaving someone, teasing??

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!lance tucker,  dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS FIC  WITH DDLG DYNAMICS,, do not interact if youre not 18+,, finally??? a new fic???? oh my god im sorry, i may be a bit rusty..

tagging — @la-cey​ @doozywoozy​ @melancholyy-hill​ @pedropcl​ @beck07990​ @isysen​ @anna-bailey @briefnerdwobblerpainter

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons | obssessed |little rules | innocent little | bratty little | little activities

masterlist | join my taglist! (please follow my rules)

After placing two scoops of the chocolate ice cream on the cone, Y/N lifted her head up to look at her daddy who sported a scowl on his face as he was drumming a pen in between his fingers as he tried to piece together the facts of the case. Normally, she wouldn’t be allowed so close to Andy as he was working, but given how needy she had been all morning — despite sitting right by his feet wasn’t enough for her — she promised to remain well-behaved and quiet for him so he gave her the green light to go ahead and stay with hi as she played with her scoop and learn toy set. Silently putting down her cone by the ice cream trolley, she moved towards his leg and when he didn’t move or acknowledge her, she clung her arms around his calf as her cheek snuggled up against his shin. “What?” Feeling something cling around his lower leg snapped him right out of his focused trance as his confusion easily melted into adoration as he peered down and saw his girlfriend curled up against him. “My petal’s quite needy today isn’t she?” “Sorry dada,” She said lowly as her fingers drummed rhythmically against his clothed leg, “Was behaved and nice.” Nodding, he then bent and carried her to sit on his lap. She squealed excitedly as she then wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face in his neck, “Wuv you, dada.” Humming, he rubbed her back soothingly as he looked into her eyes, “Need to hold dada huh?” The smile that formed on her lips was a toothy grin that was the attorney’s favorite sight in the whole world. “Want to hold you so much, dada; ‘m sorry,” She pouted at the thought of him being disappointed at her; sensing the drop of her mood, he then cooed and peppered kisses all over her face, feeling his prickly beard graze her skin prompted her to erupt in a fits of giggles as she loved the affection that he was showering her with. “This what you needed, my little petal?” He asked her in his gentle, playful tone as she nodded and snuggled herself against his chest as she toyed with his large fingers, “Mhm, love you so much, dada.”

“Hello?” August answered the phone call with a frown — Y/N was never one to call her boyfriend when he had missions that required him to go undercover and/or while he had overseas operations; so it was alarming that she called him he thought of only the worst possible scenarios. “Hi, daddy,” She sniffled out into the phone — part of her was relieved she got to hear his voice, but really she just longed to be with him. “What’s wrong, little one?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he impatiently tapped his fingers against the steering wheel; she let out a sigh before admitting, “Miss you, daddy. So sad without you.” Despite feeling pain on the field of his job, the sound of her small and vulnerable voice was the most painful thing he ever had to hear or endure. “Little one, have you been good for me?” She nodded against her phone as she hugged the Cinnamoroll stuffie that had a shirt specifically sewn on for the stuffie which had the words “daddy’s little one” embroidered on it, “I do, daddy. Miss your kisses and hugs so much.” As he parked his car in front of their yard he smirked as he answered her, “Well who knows when I’ll get back right?” He was positive that there was a pout on her lips as she thought of the likelihood that she was going to be alone for a while, “But daddy I miss you already!” Her whine was so loud that she didn't hear the way August opened up their front door and walked to the living room where she was lying in the couch; he ended the call and he could see her slumping down her shoulders from behind before jumping down beside her and hugging her, “Well good thing daddy’s home now, yeah?” She let out a shrilling shriek in excitement as she kissed his bearded cheeks repeatedly, “I missed you so much, daddy! Promise I was the goodest girl for you!”

“How are your chicken tenders, sweetie?” Bucky asked after pressing a kiss on her forehead; they were out to dinner with Sam and his girlfriend, Leila — who like her was a little too. After the two bonded over the activity paper the server handed to them, they both munched down on their meal. “So yummy, tătic! But,” She trailed off as she looked around nervously. After drinking down a chunk of his beer then looked at him with worry written on his face, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Without a word, she snuggled close to his side right as she tangled her arms around his metal arm before looking up at him with doting eyes, “All better, tătic!” Slightly picking up on what she was up to, he grabbed another chicken and tapped it on her lips; she moaned lowly when he fed her then snuggled up more to his arm. “Need my touch, don’t you sweetheart?” Shyly, she nodded as she played with his fingers, “Always want you close to me.” Sam and Leila were both busy being all snuggled up too so Bucky repeatedly, sweetly kissed her lips before telling her, “How ‘bout we take a bath later, sweetie?” Extremely thrilled with the idea of spending tub time with her daddy, she nodded too much that little chunks of the chicken she was eating escaped her mouth as she expressed her liking of his idea, “So excited for that, tătic! Can we go home now and bathe together?” Chuckling at the small mess she made, he wiped the sides of her mouth with a napkin then kissed her forehead, “Only a few more minutes before we can bath together, sweetie.”

“Into the tub you go, doll,” Steve sing-songed as he gently placed Y/N into the bathtub that was filled with warm water and soapy bubbles. She giggled as she felt the warm water graze her skin. For a while, she was busying herself with playing and blowing the bubbles; after a while, she was craning her neck to look for Steve, “Sir? Where are you?” A pout was now formed onto her lips that earlier was stretched out into a smile. The super soldier was in their shared bedroom preparing what she was going to wear after her bath when he heard her distressed call for him. Entering their ensuite bathroom the skin of his forehead wrinkled up as he approached her and kneeled down by the tub, “What’s wrong, doll?” A small amount of water splashed onto him when she crossed her arms, “Want you, sir.” Not fully understanding what she meant, he brought a hand to caress her back — as if to coax her into explaining as he said, “I am here, doll. What do you want?” “Want you here, sir,” Unclasping her arms from where they were crossed, she dropped her arms in the bubbly water and pouted at him. Nodding in understanding, he then stood up; hearing her whimper in need made him chuckle a bit, “I’m just gonna remove my clothes then join you in there okay, doll?” Gone was the frown that earlier donned her face for she now had a wide grin as she clapped when Steve slowly dipped in the tub, careful as to not spill water out of the tub. Once he was fully seated in the tub, his doll then moved over to him and hugged him tight, “Love you, sir.” Placing her on his lap, he then kissed the top of her head as he tried to calm his beating heart, “I love you too, doll. Now, how ‘bout we clean you up with your favorite shampoo hm?”

“Where you bringing me, baby girl?” Sy wondered out loud as he allowed his nearly 200 pound self to be whisked away. It was unusual of her to remain this quiet; for some her whining and blabbering would be annoying, but the Texan captain loved how verbal she was especially since it served as a constant reminder about how much he was needed by her. Upon being brought to the den of their house that served as the office, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he gently stroked her back, hoping to coax out an answer out of her, “What are we gonna in the office, baby?” She pointed to the landline phone and to the stuffed animal that arrived defective a few days ago. “You want me to make a call?” He asked and she nodded with a wide smile. “Why can’t you make the call?” The question was asked out of curiosity, but with the way she batted her eyelashes and bit her lip bashfully had him worried. A small smile graced his face when she opened her mouth, but she quickly closed it and instead grabbed a pen and paper. Sitting down on the swivel chair, he patiently waited for her to finish jotting down her message. When she was done, she shyly slid over the paper to him and once he read it the words broke his heart, “My voice is ugly. Who said this, baby girl?” Shrugging her shoulders she fiddled with her fingers but he placed her on his lap which allowed him to gently stroke her thighs, “Come on, baby girl, please talk to me? I miss hearing your pretty voice.” As if to prove his point, his beard tickled her skin as he pressed kisses on her throat; she giggled as her hands pushed his wide chest away and cleared her throat, “Some guy said my voice is too deep for a girl.” Sy’s jaw clenched in anger at the person who disrespected his girl’s feature; a thick finger of his hooked under her chin to make her look at him, “Listen to me, okay? Don’t listen to the meanie who said that. Your voice is beautiful and lovely, just like the rest of you.” Biting the inside of her mouth, she then looked up at him with teary eyes; he was about to question as to why she was tearing up when she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she peppered kisses on his bearded cheek, “Thank you, daddy. Needed that reminder.”

“Papa?” Y/N groggily called out as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and looked to the side of the bed; she frowned when she noticed that the gold medalist wasn’t occupying the earlier spot he claimed. Grabbing for the first stuffed toy he had given her in her arms, she made her way off their bed and checked their walk-in-closet and ensuite bathroom — and was displeased when he wasn’t there. There were two other bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper floor and all three areas did not house her loving boyfriend.  “Where are you?” She was now close to crying as she headed down the stairs. Upon hearing noise coming from their dining room, she then skipped over there and was shocked to see him wearing his USA jacket and was faced in front of a laptop. “Well I have to say that my biggest motivation has to be my loving girlfriend,” Just as he said the last word he shot Y/N a sincere smile, patting her lap — motioning for her to sit on it.  Thankful that she wasn’t wearing her little pajamas and instead fell asleep wearing one of his sweatshirts, she shyly sat on his lap and was surprised to see that the accomplished gymnast was being interviewed, “And she just pushes me to be the best I can be, in all aspects.” At the compliment, she shyly waved at the interviewer. “Well that is all the time we have. Thank you so much Lance Tucker for gracing us with your presence and introducing us to your lovely girl too.” Lance’s computer screen faded into his screensaver of the two of them — the gymnast kissing her cheek as she smiled wide into the camera. “Woke up without you and was so scared, papa.” Her confession had his heart hurting a bit but he cuddled her and explained, “I’m sorry, angel. I had an interview and you looked so adorable while you sleep that I didn’t want to wake you.” At his explanation, her little mind was able to understand it and nodded, “Promise to never leave me?” His reply was instant, “My greatest nightmare would be leaving you. I love you so much, angel,” For the only thing he has ever been sure of in his entire life was that she was going to be with her for the rest of their days together.

As much as Ransom and Y/N enjoyed summer, the bright sunny days allowed them to stroll around the different sights and go on long road trips across the state — even the country if the only Thrombey child wasn’t feeling lazy. “Princess, have you packed your clothes already?” He asked from the main floor of his house as he zipped up his duffle bag after checking once again that he had packed the necessary garments for their three-day stay in the high-end resort Ransom got them a booking to.  “King, can you come here please?” The man that was called for had to chuckle as he made his way up the stairs, heading for their bedroom because he could practically sense that she was pouting as she called for him. “Princess, everything alright with you?” Seeing her kneeling down in front of her suitcase with a wide array of clothing articles spread all around her. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms as her lips formed a pout, “Need king to help me pack.” Wrapping his arms around her  and placing her on his lap, he kissed the side of her neck, “My little princess needs help packing her clothes?” Snuggling against his chest, she nodded as she slipped her thumb into her mouth, “King packs my clothes better.” Having her in his lap as he was folding some of her clothes then placing it on her matching suitcases didn’t pose as a challenge for him; in fact he loved the thought of her being all small that she needed him. “Such a helpless, needy little thing you are hm?” Even though he was partially joking, she took it seriously but was not offended by it, “Just want my king near me at all times, please.” After zipping up her bags once they have been filled with all the clothes she was probably going to use during their stay there, he simply kissed her cheek and gently pat her thighs, “Well king’s not going anywhere without his pretty princess. Now let’s go on our vacation, okay?”

“Where are you, bubba?” Y/N pouted as she rubbed her hands on her arms as she stood by the balcony in their apartment. Her phone was in one of the pockets of the bathrobe she was wearing, and when she grabbed for it, she searched on Twitter for Superman. A sad smile graced her lips when she read about him being currently in a different country, aiding citizens who were currently suffering a forest fire in their location. Locking her phone, she then moved towards the door and before fully going in and locking the door behind her she looked up in the sky with hopeful eyes, “Please come home soon, bubba.”

Removing the robe from her body, she rested it by her dresser then crawled under the covers as she hugged the pillow Clark often laid down on when they slept together. A gush of strong wind blew past her and before she could even process what it was or see it properly, she was faced with a freshly showered Clark who was smiling and laying down beside her, “Hi, bubba. I’m home.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide as she kissed his lips repeatedly and excitedly. “I’m so happy you’re home, bubba! I missed you so damn much.” She moaned out in pleasure when his arms opened wide and cuddled her close and warm into his chest. Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, he then rubbed her back soothingly, “I know, bubba. I heard you.” hearing those words, she hid her face deeper into his chest, not having the guts to look up at him. With a cheeky grin, he reassured her, “ And don’t worry, I’ll be all yours this weekend. There’s no way I will be neglecting my precious bubba.”

#quietmyfearswith #chris evans x reader #henry cavill x reader #sebastian stan x reader #andy barber x reader #august walker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #syverson x reader #lance tucker x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #clark kent x reader #daddy!andy barber x little!reader #daddy!august walker x little!reader #daddy!bucky barnes x little!reader #daddy!steve rogers x little!reader #daddy!syverson x little!reader #daddy!lance tucker x little!reader #daddy!ransom drysdale x little!reader #daddy!ransom thrombey x little!reader #daddy!clark kent x little!reader

[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

#asks #prompt fill #soulmates #obikin #this entire fic took hold because i couldn't stop thinking of a physical representation of anakin's soul just #draped behind obi-wan's chair during council meetings #so hell yeah after he gets a seat on the council #odyna sits behind him and growls loudly when she feels his displeasure #its very intimidating actually mission successes are going through the roof #meanwhile anakin has avarie in his lap shes either dozing off #or she's grooming her paws #which always makes anakin laugh #because 'look master she's as picky about her appearance as you are' #soulmate au

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve! 

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’  Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - II

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,300+

Previously on...

When Y/N arrived at the master bedroom, she was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. She knocked always and found Bruce turning to face her, shirtless and only in his boxer briefs.

Bruce seemed subtly surprised to find Y/N standing in his doorway and not Alfred. But he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the state Y/N found him in. 

Along with the first aid kit, Y/N had grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

“I’m fine,” Bruce told her before she could even offer to help him.

“You can either deal with me or you can deal with Alfred,” she threatened. 

“Your choice,” she added when she saw how serious he took her warning.

Bruce’s heavy sigh was the only answer she’d get.

“Come on,” Y/N nudged her head toward his en-suite bathroom that was probably twice the size of most people’s studio apartments.

She pointed to one of the steps that led up to the giant bathtub, silently instructing him to sit.

“Put these on your ribs,” Y/N instructed as she handed him the ice packs.

To her surprise, Bruce did as she asked.

“I don’t need stitches,” he mumbled as he watched her open the first aid kit.

“I know,” she answered. “Which is lucky for you, because I have no idea how to stitch people up.” 

She dabbed some cotton in hydrogen peroxide. “But…you still need to clean those cuts or they’ll take longer to heal and probably scar.”

Once again, Y/N was surprised to see that Bruce did as she said. He didn’t complain or refuse her assistance – just sat there silently. The man didn’t even flinch and Y/N knew she was causing his injuries to sting.

“What happened tonight that has you so upset?” Y/N finally asked after silently caring for him for a few minutes.

“What makes you think I’m upset?”

She sighed softly. “I’ll be the first to admit that you’re nearly impossible to read. But clearly something happened that caused you to storm out of the cave like you did.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“Was it them?” Y/N asked carefully. “The Court?"

For a moment, she thought he’d ignore that question too.

“They know I’m protecting you. Well…they know that Batman is protecting you.”

Y/N shrugged. “We knew they were gonna figure it out eventually.”

Bruce remained silent.

“Did they send the Talons after you?”

From his expression, Y/N knew she was right.

The Talons were a group of lethal assassins that did all of the dirty work for The Court of Owls. They were highly trained, almost entirely undetectable, and a force to be reckoned with. Probably only second to the League of Assassins when it came to deadliness.

“That’s why Jason was with you,” Y/N pointed out. “You needed backup.”

“We had it under control,” was all Bruce said.

“I know you were already going after The Court,” Y/N told him gently. “And you need my help.” She hesitated and took in a shaky breath, “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“What was your plan?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When I came to you and told you that you’d been made, you said that you knew. What was your plan?”

“Run. And keep running. You and I both know I’m hopeless when it comes to an actual fight.” She shrugged. “My plan was to keep working on exposing them and stay alive long enough to see it through.”

Y/N waited for some sort of lecture, for Bruce to tell her that it was a stupid plan and she had been sloppy. She waited to feel patronized and belittled.

But Bruce just stared at her.

“What?” She challenged.

“I wish you would prioritize your life a bit more.”

She moved back a little from cleaning his cuts and snorted. “What? Like you?” 

Then she shook her head and went back to cleaning his cuts. “You’re so not the person to be lecturing about self-preservation, Bruce.”

Then Bruce surprised them both.

He grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck and brought her down to him before his lips collided with hers.

She dropped all the medical supplies in her hand from the shock of it all. But then she was cupping his face and kissing him back.

Next thing she knew, Bruce had steered her body so she was straddling his lap.

It had been so long since that night that Y/N had almost forgotten what his lips felt like. Or how his hands touched her so tenderly, but his intent was always clear and effortlessly confident.

But then Y/N’s leg accidentally collided with one of Bruce’s bruised ribs.

It didn’t deter him. He had every intention of ignoring it.

But Y/N felt his body tense in pain and she swore she felt the vibrations of the quietest pained moan from him. 

She could’ve imagined it, but she wasn’t going to continue knowing that she had the ability to accidentally hurt him.  

But it was also her saving grace. Because Y/N shouldn’t be doing this. 

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. Bruce allowed the movement, but his grip on her waist and neck didn’t ease in the slightest.

“You should rest,” she whispered to him.

Then she shoved herself away from him and awkwardly stepped backwards as if she was desperately trying to put space between them.

“Umm…make sure you keep that ice on your ribs,” she told him awkwardly, half turned away from him.

Bruce opened his mouth to stop her, but no words came out. 

The next second, she bolted out of the bathroom and then his master suite.

Her mind was racing with so many thoughts that Y/N didn’t notice Dick catching her race into her own bedroom.

Dick looked between Y/N’s closed door and the direction of Bruce’s room, putting it all together. 

—————

After the close call with the Talons, Bruce had all hands on deck. Even Jason – who usually did his own thing and had separated himself from family matters – had been brought into the fold. Which meant he was spending way more time around the manor.

Y/N knew things were getting serious.

Bruce wasn’t exactly keeping her in the dark. But he also wasn’t being forthcoming with information.

Y/N didn’t know if he was trying to shield her in some way…or if he was just doing business as usual and taking control, not allowing anyone in until he thought it was absolutely necessary.

Either way, through the chaos of it all, Y/N realized Dick hadn’t acted as her shadow in almost a week.

It wasn’t until Jason decided to bother Y/N that she realized what had changed.

Jason leaned backwards against the console Y/N was working on so she was forced to face him. He crossed his arms with a smirk and looked down at her.

“So, you and B, huh?”

“Get off my equipment,” she warned him darkly without even glancing at him.

But inside, she was internally freaking out. 

Y/N made a point to keep as many facts about her life a secret. And her sex life? That was top priority when it came to her privacy. This was worst case scenario.

But also, how the hell did he figure that out?

Jason shrugged, but did as she asked and took a step away from the console. “He didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Y/N finally looked up him. “Please tell me what I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Jason smiled and whistled. “I think I like you.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” she mumbled as she began typing again.

“Jason, leave her alone.”

Y/N turned to see Dick walking into the cave.

Jason held up his hands in surrender and gave his brother an innocent face. “I was just trying to be polite to our guest, Richard.”

“I’m sure you were,” Dick side eyed him.

Jason then turned to Y/N and put on his Red Hood helmet. “I look forward to having more of these titillating conversations, Y/N.” Then he turned to Dick. “I’m heading out on patrol.”

He mounted his motorcycle and raced out of the cave, leaving Dick and Y/N alone for the first time in awhile.

“No patrol for you tonight?” Y/N asked him slowly.

“They’ve got it covered.”

She just nodded and didn’t ask any further questions.

All at once, they were submerged into strange silence. The air was racing with thoughts, yet the tension seemed to simultaneously make it thick, as well.

Y/N sighed. She might as well get this over with. 

“I know you want to ask, so just ask,” Y/N mumbled as her fingers raced across the keyboard and her eyes never left the screens.

“Doesn’t the whole…” Dick really didn’t know how to put it delicately.

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed with his fumbling. She turned around in her chair to face him. “Does his age bother me? Is that what you’re struggling to ask?”

Dick shifted his weight awkwardly, “I guess so. Yeah.”

She raised her brow. “Haven’t you dated a literal alien before?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he defended with a glare.  

“Oh, so as long as the alien is the same age as you, it’s fine?”

Dick really didn’t have an answer for that.

“It’s just that…aren’t you a little young for him?” Somehow he managed to leave out the rudeness in the question. That must be the Wayne charm.

“Isn’t 9 a little young to put on a costume and fight crime?”

Dick sighed, “Touché.”

“I am one of the most successful hackers in the world. He’s a vigilante who dresses up as a bat. What about us screams normal and conventional to you, Dick?”

He knew she had a point.

“Plus, we aren’t in a relationship. It was a one-time thing. Nothing more. It happened a long time ago.”

However, she conveniently left out the heated kiss they shared last night.

“You sure about that?” Dick challenged.

Y/N just eyed him.

“Because the only women he’s had one-time things with are the one’s he’s used or paid to keep the image.” He took a step closer. “And they definitely didn’t know who he really was.”

Y/N tried not to let it show that his words caught her off guard.

This exactly what Y/N didn’t want.

She didn’t want anyone putting ideas in her head that she actually meant something to Bruce Wayne. Because she might make the mistake of believing it.

It happened once. They slept together once. One time. 

Had there been a indescribable intensity between them since then? Yes. But Y/N didn’t like to acknowledge or think about that.

“Can we please stop talking about this?” She asked.

Dick blinked and shook his head. “Sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N put her face in her hands and groaned.

Then she shot to her feet and faced Dick. If he wasn’t a vigilante who could break the average man in one swift move, he would be intimidated by the energy radiating off of her.

“Hmm…I wonder why this conversation could ever make me feel uncomfortable, Dick,” her sarcasm was almost too natural.

Then her face dropped.

 When her body language screamed that she was embarrassed, that’s when Dick felt like a piece of shit.

“Look, we’re not…” She didn’t even know how to explain this. “We’re nothing. OK?”

Dick nodded slowly, “OK.”

And he believed her. Because she believed it. Whether that was the truth though, that was an entirely different story.

“We met years ago because I threatened to expose his identity to the world.”

Dick blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N at least had the shame to look guilty about it.

“You threatened him? You threatened Bruce Wayne? The man who dresses up as a bat and scares the shit out of the criminals of Gotham?”

“I didn’t plan on actually doing it!” Y/N tried to defend. “I needed to get his attention. And guess what, it worked.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought back in time. “I discovered a sex trafficking ring. I had all the information, everything to take it down. I just needed a little…muscle.”

“And you thought Batman could be that muscle,” Dick finished for her.

She nodded.

Then Dick looked at the all the equipment. Her story reminded him what she was fully capable of and why she was here in the first place. “How did you learn to do all of this?”

It was obvious that he was trying to change the subject and give her an out. But she let him still.

Y/N shrugged.

“Is this the part where you tell me about all your degrees from various Ivy League universities?” Dick teased.

“I didn’t go to college,” she told him evenly.

“You di–How is that even possible?”

“I don’t agree with institutionalized higher education.”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she warned him. “You didn’t go to college either.”

Dick scoffed and crossed his arms. “Of course that’s old information to you. Is there anything that you don’t know about me?”

She smirked at his obvious frustration. “I don’t know your favorite color.”

Though she had been teasing him before, her confession was genuine. And her soft tone didn’t go amiss with Dick.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t think he was going to tell her. 

“It’s red,” he told her softly.

“Hmm,” she was surprised. “I always assumed it was blue…because of the uniform and all.”

“Red was always the color of my family’s costumes.” He knew the answer was rather vague.

Y/N’s face turned sympathetic, “The Flying Graysons?”

Dick nodded.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she seemed to know everything about him.

“Red’s a good choice,” Y/N added with a sad smile.

But he realized what she was actually saying was her condolences. Somehow it was better than the forced and awkward “I’m so sorry” he constantly got.

Dick grabbed a chair and sat down to face her with such purpose.

“What else do you want to know?”

Y/N allowed herself to smile at the question. 

“Everything.”

—————

Y/N got addicted to Dick’s openness.

Once Dick Grayson decided to trust someone…he really trusted them.

He didn’t hide himself from Y/N.

Unlike Bruce, Dick was easy to read. But Y/N knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. She saw the way Dick communicated with old team members or even on comms with his brothers. 

But for Y/N, if she asked him something, Dick gave her the answer.

It was as simple as that.

There were no games, no hiding, nor withholding, not manipulation, no fear.

There was just Dick Grayson.

But Y/N also new he was capable of all of those things still. She’d seen him twist conversations and put the focus on the other person. He doesn’t seem to have any issue with blatantly lying. That’s when Y/N saw Bruce.

So why was she different?

————

“I can’t stay another second in this fucking house,” Y/N snapped one day.

They had just eaten dinner and were now sitting in one of the dens. 

Dick laughed at her. “It’s not exactly a prison, Y/N. You’re in a mansion with everything you could ever need – and more.”

But this was the most time Y/N had spent in one place. She was always moving, always on the run. Yeah, she stayed in Gotham for the most part, but she missed the dangerous streets of the city.

“I’m not taking you out,” Dick gave her a warning look as he pointed at her.

“OK. First off, Bruce said nothing about me not being able to leave.”

Dick gave her a look that said, ‘How dumb do you think I am?’

“And if you were with me, then it’s fine. Right?”

“Y/N,” Dick groaned.

“And finally, I can do what I want,” Y/N added with a serious look.

“Sure you can,” he smirked.

But Y/N was being serious and she stood up. “I’m not his prisoner.”

Then she was headed toward the garage.

“No one said you were,” Dick called out after her.

He jumped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Y/N, you know more than anyone that The Court has eyes everywhere. Your face shows up on one street camera for a second and you’ll be tagged. They’ll follow you back here and then nowhere will be safe.”

“I know,” she answered as if it were obvious. “But we’re just going for a drive. Half of Bruce’s cars have tinted windows. And we’re going to take the backroads on the fringe. No street cameras. I doubt we’ll even see another car.”

Dick was adding up the risks in his head, calculating every possible outcome.

“Is Nightwing scared of what Batman will think?” Y/N teased.

Dick raised his eyebrow in amusement and crossed his arms. “Whatever game you’re trying to play…we both know I can play it better.”

She gave him the most innocent face. 

Dick sighed. Was he really about to do this?

“Come on,” he told her.

“Really?” Y/N was shocked she got him to concede.

“But I’m driving. And we’re taking the bike,” he called over his shoulder as he turned on the lights of the garage.

‘Garage’ was an understatement. It looked more like a fancy warehouse that housed at least 20 cars and a dozen motorcycles.

“The bike?” Y/N questioned.

Dick chuckled. “What? You scared of riding motorcycles?” 

Before she had the chance to answer, he pushed a helmet into her chest. It would fully cover her face and had a tinted visor shield on it. 

“Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Y/N glared at him and put on the helmet.

She watched a safe distance away as Dick started his motorcycle and revved he engine.

Even though she was wearing a helmet, he could still tell she was apprehensive.

“Come on,” he encouraged her gently before putting on his own helmet.

Slowly, she approached the motorcycle.

“Just swing your leg over – there you go,” he instructed.

Then he put on his helmet and Y/N realized there were comms linked between the two helmets so they could hear each other easily.

“Uhh…where do I–how do I hold on?” Her question stumbled out.

To her surprise, he didn’t verbally answer. Instead, Dick just reached behind him for her hands and placed them under his leather jacket and around his waist.

The contact felt strangely intimate. And Y/N hated that it made her heart race a bit faster. She hoped he couldn’t feel it as her chest bumped against his back. Hopefully he would just think it was her adrenaline and fear from the bike. 

“Good?” He asked as he revved the engine again.

“I think so?”

Suddenly they shot out of the garage and raced down the long drive that led to the gate. 

Y/N didn’t think Dick was going unusually fast, by any means. But the motorcycle made everything feel more extreme. She slowly started to put together why people liked riding them so much. It was a rush. 

Dick did as he suggested and took backroads, avoiding any main streets or heavy-traffic areas. Which meant a lot of twists and turns.

But Y/N was surprised when he started to slow down and pulled onto a street that was just surrounded by forests. The sun had just set and the sky was colored pink and purple.

Dick turned off the bike when they reached a clearing. It was a meadow, with tall grass that moved like the ocean from the night breeze.

Y/N took off her helmet and grinned at the sight. 

She turned to Dick, “Didn’t expect a city boy like you to know places like this…”

“City boy?” Dick looked insulted. “I was a traveling circus kid before Bruce took me in.” He looked out at the land, “This was one of our stops. We set up right over there,” he pointed to an open field where the ground was even and the grass was short.

Y/N’s face changed when she realized Dick had a connection to this place. It wasn’t just a stop off the highway. It meant something to him.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. It was hard to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“Taking me here. For taking me anywhere, really.”

“Despite how enormous the manor is, it’s suffocating sometimes,” Dick tried to reason with her. “Has it really been so bad, being stuck with us?”

“No,” she quickly answered and took a step toward him. “How much time have you spent working with a team?”

Dick thought about it. “I mean, after leaving Bruce, I just went from one team to another. Even when I think I’m working alone, my family is always around the corner.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile, already knowing that would be his answer. “I never had that. It’s always just been…me.”

“Why?” Dick questioned. 

He knew better than anyone that heroes found other heroes, whether they wanted to or not. And he knew from experience that a team had a stronger chance of changing the world for the better. Even Bruce gave up on being a lone warrior – despite him trying to believe he still is one. 

“I don’t go after criminals that wear face paint and shoot guns, Dick. I go after the people that terrify others into silence and submission. I go after the people that most don’t even know we should be going after.” She shook her head. “It’s dangerous in a different way. And I never wanted to risk anyone else’s life but my own.”

“But when things go south, who’s got your back?” Dick challenged.

Y/N thought about it a moment and just shrugged.

Dick’s eyes saddened. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Y/N.”

She didn’t acknowledge his statement.

When there was a large gust of wind, Y/N closed her eyes as if it would help her body absorb the nature around them.

Dick allowed himself to take her in while her eyes were closed – all of her. 

He still didn’t know so much about her past – what she’s seen, what she’s been through. But he felt like he understood her as a person. He saw how intelligent she was, how she explained things to Tim without sounding condescending or embarrassing him for not knowing. Or how patient she was with Damian when he was his bratty self, and she clearly saw his behavior for what it was: a child who didn’t know how to converse with normal people. And when Jason was a sarcastic smartass, Y/N gave it right back to him. Dick also didn’t miss how Y/N offered to help Alfred cook and clean up as if it wasn’t his job.

The moment Dick was having as he looked at Y/N was interrupted by his phone.

“100 bucks that it’s Bruce,” Y/N griped.

And when Dick pulled it out from his pocket, lo and behold, Bruce’s name was lit on the screen.

“Hello. Yeah, she’s with me. We just went for a drive. We’re heading back now.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N asked, “Was he pissed?”

“He was extremely calm, which is probably not a good sign.”

But Dick didn’t seem too concerned with Bruce’s wrath. He’d grown out of that long ago. 

“Come on,” he nodded to his parked motorcycle.

Y/N slid on the bike behind him with much more confidence and finesse this time. And there was no hesitation as she wrapped her hands around around Dick’s waist. He swore her grip was tighter too.

“Ready?” Dick still asked her. 

But then his hand seemed to have a mind of his and slid over the grip she had on his waist, brushing across one of her hands almost…affectionately.

He didn’t even realize he did it until a few seconds afterward.

“Mhmm,” Y/N hummed.

The ride back was less peaceful. The sun had gone down and if they weren’t in view of Gotham’s city lights, they couldn’t see their surroundings. It also didn’t help that they knew they were returning to the manor to face Bruce.

When they parked inside the garage and turned off the engine, they both heard Bruce call Dick’s name from inside.

Y/N winced, but quickly recovered.

She squeezed Dick’s upper-arm. “Don’t worry. This is on me.”

Before Dick couldn’t argue and say he wasn’t scared of Bruce, Y/N was walking back into the manor.

“Need I remind you that you’re number one on The Court of Owls’ hit list?” Bruce told Y/N darkly.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. It was an off-duty look for him, but he still looked like he was in some sort of uniform.

“Dick had nothing to do with it,” Y/N defended calmly. “I threatened to photoshop nudes of him and sell them to TMZ and the Daily Mail.”

Bruce shared a look with Dick over Y/N’s shoulder, proving that he already knew Y/N had made no such threat.

“I’ll be in my lab,” Y/N announced, deciding to end the conversation before it could turn into a lecture or argument. 

When she passed Bruce, Y/N turned around and gave Dick a grateful smile before mouthing, ‘Thank you’ to him.

Now it was just Bruce and Dick.

“If you want to lecture me, just get it over with,” Dick sighed.

“You know better,” Bruce answered.

“She was going to leave whether I went with her or not. I thought it was best to keep an eye on her. I wasn’t stupid about it, Bruce.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Dick glared at him. “We can’t keep her locked up here forever.”

“She’ll stay until we take down The Court. Until then, she’s at risk.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Careful, Bruce. It’s starting to sound like you’re making this personal.”

But they both knew there was another meaning behind his words. Dick saw Bruce put together what he was really trying to say. ‘I know you two have a history. I know what happened between you.’

But Dick didn’t know what was happening now. 

Bruce just glared at him and said, “I could say the same to you.”

Then he turned and left.

-----------------------------------------

Part III

Ooooooo. The drama!

Let me know what you think! Please 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits chapter 2 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #batboys #batfam #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson

[the-iceni-bitch]

Killing Floor

Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader

Words: 4389

Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.

Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.

You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.

A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.

You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.

Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.

“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.

You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”

You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.

“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”

He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.

“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”

“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”

“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”

“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”

“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”

Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

  You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.

Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.

“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”

“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.”

You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.

“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.

“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”

Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.

“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.

He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”

“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”

“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.

“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”

“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”

You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

  You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.

“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.

“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”

There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.

“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.

“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.

Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.

He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.

Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.

You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.

Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.

You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.

He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.

“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.

“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.

It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.

He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.

Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.

The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.

You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.

Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.

Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.

Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.

He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.

“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”

He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.

Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.

“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.

He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.

“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”

He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.

“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.

“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.

He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.

“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.

“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”

He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.

His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.

“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”

You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.

“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.

He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”

He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.

“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”

He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.

He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.

Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.

You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.

“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”

The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.

“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”

You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.

He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.

He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.

You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.

“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”

A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!

Tags!

@stargazingfangirl18​ @starlightcrystalline​ @ozarkthedog​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @sultrygoblin​ 

#natalie writes #fanfic #fanfiction #tw dark content #non con #dubious consent #non consent #drug mention #alcohol mention #violence #gore #mr freezy x fem!reader #mr freezy x reader #mr freezy x you #mr freezy smut #i'm going to hell #robert pronge #chris evans smut #chris evans #chrisevans #dark!reader

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Strictly Professional

Sam “Ace” Rothstein x Call Girl! Reader

Enjoy Sam’s rocky relationship with his favorite call girl!

TW: smut, dirty talk, rough sex, prostitution, heartbreak, being involved with two women but its not cheating?

Word Count: 9.3k

As you finish placing the last few snacks down on your little marble tray, you hear the doorbell ring. You have a new client tonight! "Coming!" you yell from the kitchen before rushing to the front door. You take a moment to straighten out your silk robe, checking your reflection in the foyer mirror before opening the door. "Cumming already? I didn't know I was that good," the man says smugly. "Oh, you naughty boy," you say, greeting him with a hug and rubbing your body against his, "Come in, honey." He steps over the threshold, and you close the door behind him. As you slip his sport coat from his shoulders, he starts, "It's nice to meet you, I'm-" "Ace Rothstein. You run The Tangiers." "Ah, so you've seen my place before?" he asks, impressed. "A few times with friends or clients. Plus, you're practically a household name here in the desert." He looks down for a moment, clearly flattered. "Well, I'd like to leave the celebrity outside; you can call me Sam." "Sam, huh?" you saunter up to him, playing with his tie, "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm (Y/N)." You pull him close, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you do with many of the men you meet up with. "(Y/N)... I like that." Whether he was referring to your name or the kiss on the cheek you aren't sure, but you can tell he's into you. So you start walking away from him, further into your house: your way of being a tease and letting him see your... "assets." "You can sit here on the couch if you'd like," you throw over your shoulder, "Would you like a glass of wine, Sam?" "Hmm," he hums, looking up as if he's thinking. "Champagne?" you suggest. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows, "Perfect." "Yes, sir," you say, slipping into the kitchen. You pull a bottle of champagne from your wine fridge, plop it in a bucket of ice, and return to the living room with it. Setting the alcohol on the table, you say, "I'll be right back!" Before trotting off to the kitchen again and returning with your little marble snack tray. "Oh," Sam remarks, looking over the crackers, cheese, meats, petit fours, and chocolate-covered strawberries, "Wow, I've never been treated quite like this before." "Well, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," you sit on your knees right next to him on the couch, "and I like to keep my men coming back for more." You pop the cork off the champagne, pouring two glasses and handing one to Sam. You spend some time enjoying your drinks as you get to know one another. You find him very charming, and it's no wonder his casino is such a success. As you feed him a bite of chocolate-covered strawberry, you ponder, "What's a sweet man like you doing with a call girl?" After chewing up the strawberry and taking a sip of champagne, he explains, "I guess I haven't had much luck in love." You hum near his ear, rubbing his chest with your hand, "The man who knows all the odds isn't willing to take a chance with his heart." You start placing sensual kisses along his cheek and shirt collar. He turns his head slightly towards you, looking down at your pretty face, before catching your lips with his. You give him a series of feather soft kisses, waiting for him to want more. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your chest into him. Your hand snakes down from his chest towards the waistline of his pants, where you scratch at the fabric there. The man lets out a grunt and spreads his legs a bit wider. He tries to deepen your kisses, but you tease him by keeping them light and oh-so-gently tracing your fingertips over his groin. When Sam shifts his hips trying to get more friction, you pull your lips away from his and give him a mischievous smile. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes already lust-blown, then he grabs your head roughly and kisses you, hard. You let out a whiny little moan as his tongue presses at your lips. When you allow him access to your mouth, he pulls you across his lap and tightly holds you with his arms around your waist. Straddling him, you feel him holding your hips down so he can press his sex against yours. You'd never seen a man become so needy so quickly. You pull away from his kiss again, but this time, it's to give him a little treat. He makes a disappointed noise at the loss of your lips, but he's pleasantly surprised when he sees you untying your robe and dropping the silky material from your shoulders. You're left in nothing but a white, sheer, lace teddy, and Sam is left breathless. "Beautiful... You're absolutely beautiful, and such a pretty face," he strokes your cheek. There was a sincerity in his compliment that you hadn't experienced much in this line of work. You can tell Sam is a real gentleman. His large hands rub your sides, appreciating the warmth of your skin, and his eyes roam your body, specifically your breasts. He also thinks they're pretty. "May I?" he asks you, glancing at your chest. "Of course, Sam." He gently cups your breasts, softly squeezing and playing with them through the thin fabric of your lingerie. Your fingers cling to the skin of his neck which helps you lean in to kiss him on the forehead. His hands sneak up and untie the lace at the back of your neck; the top of your teddy slides off of you, and Sam's mouth softly surrounds one of your nipples. He suckles at it while his fingers tickle and squeeze your other nipple. You wrap your arms around his head, holding him to your chest while you grind your hips down on his lap again. When you get a needy moan from the man, you ask him, "You wanna go upstairs?" He pops off of your nipple and looks up at you, "That where your bedroom is?" "Yes, sweetheart," another kiss on the forehead. "Can I carry you?" "Sweeping me off my feet already? You make me feel like a princess or something," you giggle! "Well, some of the girls at the casino do call me the King of Hearts," he returns cutely, also with a little chuckle. And with that, he stands up, planting a kiss on you then leading you to the staircase. Your legs are wrapped firmly around his waist as he makes it to the upstairs hallway, asking which door leads to your room. Inside, he sees your large soft bed with freshly washed sheets. "Mm, looks cozy," he points out before he throws you onto the bed, enjoying the way you bounce and laugh. He walks over to a chair at the corner of the room and kicks his shoes off. When you make a move to stand up, he stops you, "No, you just lay there and let me look at ya; I'll undress myself." He gives you a warm smile as he loosens his tie. You get comfy on the bed, grabbing a pillow and cuddling it against your chest, as if spooning it. Then you turn away from Sam, showing off your bare back and cute butt, still adorned with white lace. "Ooh, you're sexy from the backside, too," he tells you. When you peak over your shoulder and see him hanging his pants on the back of the chair, he gives you a wink. Wearing just an unbuttoned shirt and boxer briefs, he walks over to the nightstand beside your bed, "I brought these in case you want to use them," as he sits down a strip of condoms. You simply hug your pillow tightly; every little thing he does makes you feel so special. He comes back over to the bed, this time wearing nothing but his birthday suit. You feel him crawl on the bed behind you, and he lays down to spoon you. "You're making me very jealous of that pillow, you know that?" his voice grumbles in your ear as his palm rubs circles into your butt cheek. You twist around and give the man another passionate kiss, "Thank you for bringing protection, that was very considerate of you. I do like to use condoms, and I keep some here so you don't have to buy them each time... If you choose to come back to see me." He gets right next to your ear to whisper, "If the sex is half as good as your hospitality, I think you'll be seeing me again." The next few moments are a whirlwind of making out, getting the last of your lingerie on the floor, and rushing to get a condom as you could barely keep your hands off of one another. Sam is normally a man that likes to take his time and be meticulous with things, but you treat him in a way that just hits all the right buttons. He can hardly wait to bury himself in you to the hilt. And for good reason, too. He is simply 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 with the way your body feels: your baby soft skin in his hands, your nails in his back, your plush thighs against his hips, even the sound of your moans in his ears, and of course your tight wet warmth squeezing his throbbing member as he fucks you into the mattress. As for you, Sam is one of the best partners you've ever had--scratch that--𝘵𝘩𝘦 best. He's incredibly romantic, involved, attentive to what you like; he'd already brought you two orgasms! You can't wrap your head around how this man is single. "Baby," he gruffly warns you, "baby, I'm gonna cum." His eyebrows furrow and his hips move in a more shallow motion, sinking himself into you a few more times. He revels in this feeling, hanging on the edge of his climax, when a little tear rolls down his cheek. His breath hitches as he inhales sharply, spilling into the condom. He drags out his orgasm by thrusting into you until he just can't anymore. When he collapses on top of you, you simply hold him close, giving him some love and affection. He lies there on your chest listening to the sound of your heartbeat, exhausted from his flood of emotions. Your hand strokes the side of his face, stopping on his cheek and thumbing that tear stain away, "You alright, honey?" He looks up at you with his eyes, the gives you a small smile, "Yeah... It was just 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 good." "Mmmm, so I'll see you again?" "Yes, ma'am... if I can move. Right now, I really just wanna sleep right here." "Well, you're more than welcome to, baby boy. Maybe I'll make you breakfast in the morning," you give him a kiss on top of his hair that had been neatly gelled, but now it's a kinky mess. "Or I'll have you for breakfast," he jokes smugly before giving you a kiss on the neck. • • • It's almost unnecessary to say, but Sam becomes a very regular client of yours. You quickly grow to be his favorite call girl, and as a customer and as a person, he treats you right. In fact, he treats you well enough that you make an effort to open your schedule for him, and he pays you well enough that you can drop some lower paying clients. But perhaps that isn't the only reason you've made yourself so available... "Sam, honey?" you start. You're at his place; since you've seen him a few times now, you've started meeting at his place as well. And boy, is it so nice there! "Yeah, gorgeous?" his voice comes out in a whisper while you laying in bed wrapped in his arms and a post-coital glow. "Want me to run you a bath?" "A bath, hmm?" he gives you that twinkling side eye, the one that tells you he's incredibly happy, even if his lips only wear a tiny smile. "Yeah, so we can wash off. Ya know, I could bathe you... lather you up with a little soap and a sponge... rinse it all off... and repeat," you giggle the last part. "Mmmm, does that cost extra, mama?" "Not for you, sugar." And it's true; he pays you more than enough for you to go above and beyond for him, not to mention how incredibly sweet he is. Sometimes he pulls at your heartstrings with his little pet names for you and the way he appreciates every inch of your body, even if you're just cuddling. Moments later Sam is relaxed back in the bathtub, arms stretched wide, looking absolutely inviting, so you climb right in and sit in front of him, facing him. He leans forward and gives you a smooch before leaning back against the wall of the bathtub. You scoot over to him, tucking himself under his arm, so you can both stretch out your legs. "Sam?" you ask, sliding a hand across his thigh under the water and the suds. "Hm?" he wraps an arm around you, massaging your scalp with his fingertips. You wrap your hand around his length, stroking it easily with the bath water acting as a lubricant. "Ooh, baby," he nearly jumps, legs tensing up a bit, "I'm still a bit- ssss-sensitive from- from earlier." He groans and his thighs twitch from your ministrations. "I know, but I have something to ask you, and I want your undivided attention," you explain, whispering the last part in his ear. "B-but..." is all he can get out as your hand bobs up and down, making him hard again so soon after his orgasm. "Do I have your attention, honey buns?" you chastise him, knowing full well that he can't think of anything but you and the way your thumb is swirling around that over-sensitive tip. "Uh-huh," he nods his head in small movements, his eyes drifting close, giving into that half-uncomfortable, half-pleasant feeling. His hands grab onto you, bracing himself, and you reward him with a few soft kisses before prompting him with your question. It was something you'd never asked a client before. Something you'd been asked by a client and even agreed to a number of times, but it felt inappropriate for you to be the one asking this, especially with such a high profile client as Sam Rothstein. It was funny how quickly you'd fallen into calling him Sam, and it felt special being one of the few people that called him that. "Take me to dinner." It's a simple enough request, but you know the complications involved. "Huh?" Sam's face looks at you hazily, eyebrows arched up almost as if he's drunk. "Take me to dinner, Sam," you repeat, and you realize that you aren't very good at asking a question; those typically end in question marks. His face becomes serious, and your hand comes to a halt and moves away from his member. He sits there, staring off into space and chewing on his lip as he thinks, but when he turns to face you, his eyes immediately soften. "Sweetheart..." he starts and trails off. His large hand softly cups your cheek, dampening your face with water, and he urges you closer to him until your foreheads touch. You both stay quiet like that for a moment, eyes closed before his head tilts back, and he searches for your lips. After a tender kiss, he gathers his thoughts and explains, "You know how much I'd love to take you out. You have such a great personality and you always make me feel so good, in more ways than one. But the fact is: it would do something to my reputation if I were to be seen taking you to dinner." He grabs a wash cloth from the edge of the bathtub and starts to gently wash your features that he finds so statuesque: your shoulders, clavicles, neck, and decolletage. "I know, sugar. Everyone knows that rich men sleep with call girls, prostitutes, hookers, whatever you wanna call us... but they don't wanna see us in public. It's not your fault; I just thought I would ask," you lean forward and give him another series of kisses. You have to admit you're a little sad about it, but you knew what the answer was going to be. "C'mere," Sam says in his seductive voice. "C'mere? I'm right here," you giggle. "Mm, not close enough," he remarks and then wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the water for an onslaught of kisses--seriously this man's tub is gigantic. • • • Just like any usual night with Sam, he shows up to your house pretty late at night after getting off at the casino, but this night, he shows up dressed a little nicer than usual (how he could dress any nicer you don't know) and with a beautiful bouquet of lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums, you name it and it was probably in that bouquet. "Sam! What's this for?!" your voice is so giddy as you hold the huge bundle of flowers in your arms. "Go upstairs and put on one of those nice dresses I bought you, we've got somewhere to be," he wraps an arm around your waist and greets you with a kiss. "Huh?" the confusion comes through in your tone. "Did I stutter? Get that pretty little ass upstairs and change out of that robe..." He softly spins your around and gives your backside a smack, "Leave the lingerie though," he whispers before sending you upstairs. You'd only ever seen Sam's Cadillac before, whether it was parked at your house or outside The Tangiers; you'd never been in it before, but you have to say: it's a very luxurious car. Sam casually cruises down the road, left hand on the wheel, cigarette in the right. Damn, he just looks so good. Once he's done smoking and puts out his cigarette, his fingers lace with yours. "Sam, where are we going?!" you badger him for about the hundredth time. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" he chuckles calmly. Always calm, cool, and collected. But you have your answer only a few minutes later when you pull into a tiny restaurant on the outskirts of town. "I know how bad you wanted me to take you out, and I know this maybe isn't what you imagined, but I promise I tried my best to make it special," he places a kiss on your knuckles before hopping out the car and quickly walking around to open your door for you. As you're walking towards the door of the quaint mom-and-pop style eatery, Sam's arm wrapped firmly around your waist, you see a sign by the door. "Sam, honey, it says they close at 10 o'clock! It's way past 10!" "Shush, it's okay, I know the owners," he holds the door open for you, "Does this place look closed to you?" Inside the place is adorned with twinkling lights strung across the banisters, and little vines of ivy decorate the room. The host leads you to your table which is draped in a white table cloth and is already set with wine glasses and a few candles: a set up a little nicer than usual for a place like this. There are a few other patrons seated around the dining room, but it's far from packed. You almost had to wonder if Sam paid the other guests to have dinner here. As Sam stands before you, pulling out your chair for you to have a seat, you feel like you're in a dream, and suddenly you can't really move. He notices the overwhelmed look on your face, and he steps over, pulling you softly into him. "Hey, you okay?" It's barely above a whisper. You look around him, avoiding his eye contact and once again taking in the simple but elegant decor. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before," your voice sounds raspy and tears threaten to drip from your waterline. "What, this? Certainly you've been to fancier places before," he chuckles, trying to lighten to mood. A small huff of air comes out your nose and your lips can't help but form a smile, "You know what I mean, sweet boy, it's the gesture." "Well, you deserve this gesture and many more," he places a kiss on your cheek then leads you to the table to take your seat. Sam being as charismatic as he is and a bit of a bachelor, the night goes by so well! As much as you enjoy cuddling and having sex with the man, it's nice to see him in a different setting. You are also happy that you are getting to have dinner in a more private place, because it feels like you get to see Sam for who he really is, without any airs he may put on around big spenders at the casino. You really have a good time with your client; he knows how to make a girl feel special, and it maybe even feels a little romantic. It's easy for the lines to get blurred in your line of work, but you've always been good at recognizing boundaries, and what you and Sam have... It's more than strictly professional. No man in his position would go out of his way like this for some broad; he'd have to really care about her to risk his reputation. • • • After that, Sam became more comfortable and started to take you to more dinners, less private dinners. One night before heading home after dinner, Sam's using the restroom when he runs into a manager from a competing casino. "Ace, how are ya?" he says in a rather country accent. Sam simply gives him a nod, trying to be polite but blow the guy off. "You still parading that girl around? Whats her name?" he then mispronounces your name, likely on purpose; it's easy to tell he's being condescending. "(Y/N)." That's all Sam says, glaring at the guy, before moving to the sink to wash his hands. "Yeah, well, word on the street is that Ace Rothstein is dating a whore. Just thought you should know." Sam's jaw clenches tightly as he dries his hands. He discards the towel and stalks over to the man, still at the urinal. One of Sam's hands grips the back of the other man's neck and pushes him forward roughly, so his cheek is pressed against the cold bathroom wall. "I got half a mind to make your skull a part of this bathroom tile. Keep her name out your filthy mouth... You won't get a second chance," Sam practically growls. He roughly releases the other man, then walks out of the restroom wiping his hands and smoothing down the front of his jacket. That night, the sex was unlike anything you'd ever had with Sam. "Oh! Oh!! Sam!" you yell out as he pounds into you. He has you in a mating press, effectively trapping you beneath him with his lips attacking you all across your face and mouth. He sits up, allowing your knees off of your chest a little, and he props himself up with one hand next to your head, the other using his thumb to work circles on your clit momentarily. "God, baby, you're so pretty, so pretty taking my cock," his hips slap loudly and quickly against yours, "You like taking me, more than those other guys, huh? I know you like my cock." He moves his hand away from your clit and pops that same thumb in your mouth. "You like it when I fill all your holes. Such a pretty little slut for me. You take whatever I'll give you," he moves his hand to your throat, fingers roughly rubbing the skin there. You're excited just thinking about what he's gonna do to you. Once one hand gets a grip on your airway, the other joins it, putting a good amount of his weight on your throat as his hip movements quicken. "You're mine, (Y/N), all mine. You hear me?" The lack of bloodflow to your head causes a huge increase in the sensation of his length slamming into you. It's like the only things that exist to you are his dick and his voice. "Mine. You belong to me." He releases you for just a moment to make sure you aren't under too long, but you thank God when he puts the pressure back on, because you'd been close to cumming. "Fuck, baby, my baby feels so good," he furrows his eyebrows to concentrate on fucking into you. Again that feeling of lightheadedness sets in and all you can think about is his member making your walls quake, and just as you slip over the edge of your orgasm- SMACK! The sound vibrates in your ears as you realize Sam slapped your face. You can hardly process what your body is feeling; you just know you're on cloud nine.   Another slap, and an "Answer me, answer me! Are you mine? Are you my princess?" makes you come back to reality a bit. Eyes glossed over and mouth hanging open, you slowly look to Sam and nod your head. "Good," is all he says before kissing you roughly. "Now turn over." His hands release your throat and he pulls out before grabbing your hips and helping you flip your body. Seconds later, he's comfortably inside you again, snapping his hips, desperately searching for his release. Your ass presses against his pelvis, causing him to groan loudly. He slides an arm under your hips to keep that pressure on as his whole body rocks into you. However, he doesn't stay like that long; he's feeling much needier tonight. With his hands on your spine, he shoves you face down into the bed, so he can lift up and fall back down into your hot, tight pussy. Upon hearing your moans muffled by your pillow, Sam taunts you again, "You like it when I break your back, baby?" He speeds up his pace, knowing this is the last push to his climax. His hips slap audibly against your ass cheeks in a very even rhythm as he grunts out his orgasm. He walks his hands off of your back, still holding himself above you, rocking his hips lightly as he rides out the length of his orgasm. You twist your upper body, looking up at the man behind you who bends down and gives you a sloppy kiss before pulling out and going to the bathroom to clean up. You aren't sure what had gotten into him; you've never seen him like that before--so possessive of you. But you certainly aren't complaining if he really meant it about you belonging to him. Besides... there isn't a better guy in Las Vegas to belong to. • • • In the weeks after that, Sam fills all of his free time with you. He comes over regularly even if it's just a visit for a little while before work, or he would insist on having you spend the night at his place, even if you didn't perform your regular services. You can't deny the fondness you have for another's company... This particular afternoon, Sam has taken the day off. You never get to see him when the sun is out, so it's a real treasure, seeing his naked form splayed across your mattress, the sunlight that peaks through the blinds dancing across his skin. The stark lines of light and dark really accentuating his toned arms, well-groomed chest, thighs that are more muscular than one would expect (but you know why they're muscular), and that hefty erection standing upright for you. On most men, their genitals aren't much to write home about, but on Sam... it's almost elegant seeing that long shaft, stiff as a board, resting on his belly with its bright pink tip reaching his navel, not to mention the drops of pre-cum oozing out of him just from the thought of being with you. And since you have all day, you'll take all day to make him feel good. You spend most of the afternoon cuddling in the nude with Sam cupping your breasts and kissing your neck. Everything is slow and gentle but that doesn't make it less of a tease. Several times, Sam presses his body to yours, rutting that pretty cock against your thigh or your butt. Oh, but he doesn't make the afternoon easy on you either. Those devilish fingers of his work all of those sweet spots across your body, toying with that honeypot he loves so much until it's simply dripping for him. And that's when you find yourself on top of your lover, grinding your clit against his hard length, looking for the friction you both desire. Sam is propped up on the mountain of pillows lying at your headboard, gently scraping his hands across your body. "You look beautiful, baby. It's nice seein' you in the sunlight like this," he pulls you forward by the waist to meet your lips with those kisses you love so much, and his hips buck up into yours a few times. You'd been chitchatting off and on all day while teasing each other, so as you continue to dry hump him, his face so close to yours, you open with, "Hey, Sam?" "Yeah, (Y/N)?" he cups on of your cheeks. "Can I tell you something?" " 'Course you can, baby," his hands move to your bare back, tracing his fingertips across the lines made by your muscles and bones. "Well, uh..." Your nerves immediately make you come to a halt. You hang your head, and your eyes peak up at him. "What is it, angel?" "I- I-" you grab his hand and start to fidget with it. "Goodness, baby, I never seen you so nervous. Why don't we lie down, and we'll talk about it, yeah?" "Yeah, okay," you whisper, and he takes you in his hands, gently laying your body beside his; you lie on your sides facing one another. He gently strokes your cheeks with his knuckles before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Now, what is it?" His voice comes out in a whisper, and he has a silly grin on his lips. Your fingers trace shapes into his chest hair, and you decide to just come right out with it, "I like you, Sam, a lot." "Well, I like you, too, honey." "No, I mean-" you take a moment to gather your thoughts, "We've grown really close the past few months, and I think we both have to admit that this isn't a conventional client/call girl relationship. You have me over to your place almost every night," you cast your eyes down, looking away from him, "I guess when you spend that kind of time with someone, it'd be hard not to... What I'm trying to say is that I have feelings for you, Sam. I like all the dates and going out on the town with you, more than I should! It's not like when other guys take me out; it's- it's- it makes me feel special, and I want more. I wanna be more than just some hooker to you!" You end your rant there, your words still hanging in the air. You look at Sam, who's deep in thought. When his eyes pan back to you, he inhales sharply and his facial expression stiffens into that unreadable poker face he's spent years perfecting. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression," he starts, clearly hiding something behind those eyes, "but this was never meant to be more than sex." "But... It 𝘪𝘴 more than sex." He sits up, turning to get off the bed. "Sam, wait. Where are you going?" "I should leave," he says, stepping into his boxers. "Sam, no, why can't we just talk about it?" "Talk about it? What is there to talk about?! I can't be with a girl like you. And this, what we got here, this isn't gonna work if one of us has feelings!" "But what about all those times we went out? I really thought we had something special," you bargain. "(Y/N), I-" In his rush to get dressed, he pauses for a moment, "I only took you out 'cause you begged me to! And it's already done a number on my reputation! Do you know what it would do to 𝘮𝘦? To my 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰? If I was to start dating you? If I was to start dating a whore?!" His words land as harshly as they were meant to. It's as if you can feel the fracture forming on that little piece of your heart that belongs to him. That's when your face turns cold, revealing a poker face of your own. "Get out," it comes out as a whisper, then your voice gets much louder, "If that's how you feel, then get OUT!" You put up with a lot in your line of work, but being called a whore by a client crossed the line. It meant they didn't respect you, and you won't give your body to a man who won't respect you. So, finally hearing your front door close and Sam starting the engine in his Cadillac, you finally allow yourself to sob into your pillow. You never expected that to go over so poorly, and you've never cared for anyone the way you care for Sam, the way you crave him in every way: his conversation, his humor, his cuddles, and the way he made you feel needed, even if it was just to spend the night with him. Over the next week, you moved your appointments with your other clients back, not wanting to get upset in front of any of them, plus you deserve some time off. And over that next week, you didn't hear from Sam at all. You guess that he really is done with you... • • • Your week-long vacation turned into a few weeks; you wanted to make sure you were ready to see your regulars again. In that time, you'd been receiving cards and flowers from these guys wishing you well and just being incredibly patient with you. Unfortunately at that same time, you'd heard from the other girls in the business that Sam had fallen head over heels for Ginger McKenna. They didn't know what had gone down between you and him, and everything happened so fast; the assumption is that Sam stopped seeing you because Ginger likes her men to be exclusive with her. But that isn't what happened, and you can't tell anyone otherwise. Perhaps if you were more vengeful, but you aren't, at least not towards him. "(Y/N), honey, I missed you!" you're greeted by one of your loyal customers as he steps over the threshold of your home before picking you up and spinning you around like an old friend. "Damien!!" you squeal as he sets you down, kissing your cheek a few times. He's one of your oldest clients, and it's always a pleasure seeing him. "How are you? You took a few weeks off, is everything okay? You got my flowers, right?" He looks you over, as if checking to make sure nothing is out of place on you. "I'm okay, and yes, I got your flowers. Thank you, that was really sweet of you." Placing a kiss on his cheek, you ask in a teasing voice, "How about you? How did you manage to go nearly a month without me?" "Ah, well," you feel your back meet the wall and Damien places a kiss on your lips, holding your chin in his hand, "I barely scraped by. I even had to resort to using my hand..." "You didn't wanna see another girl?" you ask in between making out with him. "Mmmm, once," he wraps his arms around your waist, "but you know how picky I am." Damien is more than happy to let you take it easy while he does most of the work. He can tell you're still trying to get back into the swing of things, and it had been a while since he'd had a good lay. "(Y/N)," he breathes out, "God, baby, you're so good..." He lays his head on your shoulder, while he tries to catch his breath. This earns a chuckle from you, "I didn't really do anything; you were the one who was so eager. Really, I should be paying you!" You both laugh, and the man rolls off of you. The mood shifts when he asks, "What's going through that pretty head is yours? I've known you long enough, I can tell you're about a million miles away from here." "Damien, you know I don't like to talk about my personal drama; it's unprofessional." "I know, but do you have anyone that you can vent to?" You look away from him, and it gives him his answer. "(Y/N)... Talk to me, tell me what's going on." "Damien..." you mimic his little whine, "I don't wanna get upset and ruin our time together." "You won't ruin our time together. How long have I known you? And I've never once had a bad experience with you. Not to mention all the ways that you take care of me, it's time for you to let someone take care of you, even if it's just listening to you talk." A bit of redness forms under your eyes and on the tip of your nose as you continue to avoid eye contact with Damien. "I've never seen you get upset over anything, honey, what's wrong?" "I, uh... got feelings for a client, a high profile client, and it didn't end well," you murmur into his chest. "He must really be someone special for you to like him so much. In all the years we've been seeing each other, you've never dated anyone, especially not a client. God knows I tried," he chuckles and lifts your chin, happy to see the little smile you have as you reminisce on when he tried to get with you. You divulge all the details of what had happened with Sam, but you kept his identity a secret. You didn't want Damien to form an opinion on Sam or his casino because of you. "He called you a whore?!" Damien exclaims. You're more or less at the end of your story. "Yeah, but I just don't understand. It wasn't like him to be so cold like that... Or to call me names. He's the kind of guy that will retaliate if someone takes a shot at him, but I don't know what I did to him." You search Damien's face for an answer, and luckily, he may have one. "Sounds to me like he's scared." "Hm?" you question. "Scared to let himself be loved. Maybe scared he's gonna get hurt by someone who has been a place of comfort. You said he's with a hustler now? Well, no one expects it to work with a hustler, but he's probably got the money to keep her around, right?" "Yeah, he does," you confirm through a whisper. You turn over, letting Damien spoon you. He was right on the money. His arm snakes around your waist, a hand cupping your breast, and his voice rumbles right in your ear, "I know you're not the type of gal that begs, but I do think you should go talk to this guy, if you really feel that way about him." • • • And that's just what you're doing. You make your way across the floor of The Tangiers, all of the lights and decor dizzy making, in search of the man who runs it all. You've been in Las Vegas long enough to know where the guys who watch the floor would be, and in fact, there's a rather tough looking group of these guys standing in a group, watching the pits, but no Sam. You catch the attention of a few of them, so you shoot them a smile, and the cowboy in the group tips his hat at you before you slip away to the bar to survey the place and find where their boss could've gone. As you slip past the entrance to what looks like a little lounge, you catch a glimpse of him. When you double back, your stomach drops. Lip-locked with Ginger McKenna, he squeezes her so close to him you thought they might become one person. Despite your visceral reaction to seeing him like this, you can't take your eyes off of them. They make a beautiful couple: him in his shiny suit and her tall blonde figure displayed well by her body-con dress. With your spirits thoroughly crushed, your mind starts to race, questioning if you should even bother talking to the man you care so much for. But when you see him handing Ginger some money and her slipping away, you have no choice but to swallow your feelings and say what you came here to say. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you just have to be confident for a few minutes, then you take your first steps towards him. He leans back casually lighting a cigarette, and he sees you just as you're about to sit next to him, right where Ginger had been. He raises his eyebrows and quickly exhales a puff of smoke, "(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" "Talking some sense into you." There's a pause for a moment before you lay into him, "You told me we couldn't be together because it would hurt your reputation. Tell me how being with a hustler is any better. What? Because she's made a name for herself with the millionaires in this town? Because they like her?? What is it, Sam?" The man before you is left practically speechless, "I... I just like her." "Don't give me that line of bullshit. You liked me too. You're just scared! What did I say that first night we were together? Do you remember? I said you weren't willing to take a chance with your heart. You wanna make the safe bet, but you're being blind. Look at the odds, Sam! She hustles men for money; if you wanna put all your chips on her, it'll be the stupidest bet you ever make in your life..." You finish your tirade in a quiet but serious tone. Almost impulsively, you take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze. You aren't entirely sure what you mean by it. You and Sam sit in silence, your eyes saying everything and nothing to one another. He leans forward, gently places a hand on the back of your head and presses a long kiss to your temple. By that time, you feel the uncertainty of your emotions settling in, so when he pulls back, you take one last lingering look at him before heading out of the room and then practically jogging to your car. As you sit in the car, a frustrated tear staining your cheek, you reflect on what you'd said to him. You didn't grovel, and you hadn't begged him to be with you instead of her; you just told it like it is, and you can only hope he won't make a big mistake... • • •

Sam sits back on the little lounge, puffing on his cigarette, practically frozen with your words still bouncing around in his mind. Truthfully, he was baffled even seeing you; he assumed he had hurt your feelings bad enough that you wouldn't wanna see him again. At least, that was the point... He thought it'd be easier if you didn't want to see each other anymore. He's snapped out of his thoughts by his girlfriend returning to the little sofa and sitting down in the spot you'd just been in. He blinks his eyes a few times and opens the conversation the only way he knows how in his befuddled state, "Any change?" "I hit a few games on the way back," she quickly fabricates. • • • Sam tries his best to put the encounter behind him, but he couldn't help but hear your words in the back of his head every time Ginger showed him some small indicator that she may not be the right choice. Still, he found his feet had carried him right into a jewelry store, and he scanned the glass counters for engagement rings. Once the clerk working that day gets a free moment, he pulls Sam into one of the consultation rooms for high-end customers. Sam's eyes gloss over rows and rows, racks and racks of rings, until he lands on one. The massive rectangle cut emerald stares back at him; it's elegant, but it's unconventional, it's colored, it's unique. Ginger would hate it. But as the little meeting kept on, Sam keeps coming back to the emerald one; he couldn't explain his draw to it, but he hoped Ginger would grow to like it, because that's what he came home with. "We're not getting any younger. Don't you think it's time? Aren't you gettin' tired of all this shit? Bangin' around, hustlin' around?" Sam asks, suddenly changing the subject in their conversation. "What, are you trying to handicap me?" she tries to shrug off what she knows he's about to ask. "I'm gonna do you one better: I'm trying to marry you. You want to marry me?" Sam takes Ginger's hand in his. Ginger looks away doubtfully. "I'm serious. I mean, I want to settle down; I want a family," he pleads. Ginger sighs, laughing, "You got the wrong girl, Sam." "I know I'd be a good father; I know you'd be a good mother." "You don't know me. What, you've known me for two, three months. What do you know?" Her reply is cold, clearly trying to shut him down. "I'm forty-three years old, and I can't think of anybody better to be with, and I don't feel like waiting anymore." "You know a lot of happily married people, Sam? 'Cause I don't." "Yeah, I know all that," he looks down at his hands for a moment, half frustrated and half defeated. "I care about you, but I just don't have those kind of feelings for you. I'm sorry. I'm not in love with you." It was the final blow Sam needed. Just as he's about to open his mouth to beg, to find a way to convince her, to gamble his life away on a real longshot, he realizes he's made a huge mistake. He knew the safest bet had been right there in front of him, but he was so worried about himself that he walked away from a sure thing. He's normally so level headed and clear thinking... He quickly checks his watch, seeing that it isn't too late, "I got somewhere to be." He stands and heads to his bedroom for a change of shoes and to lose the robe he's wearing. "Where are you going? It's kinda late, isn't it?" Ginger gripes. "Business meeting, don't wait up," he throws out, quickly shutting the door behind him. • • • Your client for the night had just called to cancel; it's unusual for a man to cancel on sex, so you wished him well and decided to settle in for the night. Upstairs, you slip out of your lingerie and into something cozy for a lazy night in, maybe you'll watch a movie. Just as you're about to head downstairs, your doorbell rings. "Is Damien pulling one over on me?" The thought crosses your mind that perhaps your client "cancelled" so he can come over and participate in a little kink play. "Damien, is that you?" You call out as you make your way downstairs to open the door. Across the theshold, the picture standing before you stops you in your tracks. "Sam?" it comes out in a whisper. It feels like a dream seeing him here. He's quite dressed down, considering his normal wardrobe: he just had on slacks and a button up shirt, no tie, no jacket, and his hair looks as if he'd quickly smoothed it back. This rough appearance looks.... good on him. He holds out the flowers he'd brought for you. He's the only man in Las Vegas that could get flowers this late at night. "Sam, you can't just waltz back in here like this! I have a client coming over." It was a lie, but you just wanted him gone. You had put your feelings out there for him, and you even tried talking to him one more time, which is more than you would've done for anyone else, and what did he do? He crushed your feelings, and then he didn't listen to you. "(Y/N)..." he reaches out for your hand. You pull it away, and grab the door. "No, Sam, I don't want you here." You swing the door shut, but his hand quickly grabs it, pushing it back open. "(Y/N), listen. Please." He steps into your home, and you immediately turn away from him and start walking towards the staircase. He quickly sets the flowers aside and follows after you, grabbing your hand. "(Y/N)!" "Is your ego so big that you think you can just come into someone's home uninvited?!" you bark at him. "Will you listen to me?!" It was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at you, even when you'd gotten into that argument all those months ago, he'd never raised his voice. "No!" you try to get away from him again, but he grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face him. His hands slide down to your elbows and hold you to your spot, then he drops down on one knee in front of you. He's locks eyes with you, begging you to stay right there. His hand searches his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, setting it on his thigh. "Now will you listen to me?" his voice is much quieter this time. He takes your hands in his and looks up at the stunned expression on your face. "I know I fucked up. I fucked up with you big time, but I'm trying to make it right before it's too late. I know I treated you bad: I walked out on you and I said things- I called you things you didn't deserve. For that... I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, if you'll choose to have me. What we had, it was only supposed to be about sex, but at some point, I really started to care about you. I even loved you, and there were days where it took everything in me not to say it to you. You were braver than me for admitting your feelings. And you were right about me: I was scared. I know I can't turn back time, but I'd give anything to have you in my life again. So," he looks down for a moment, picking up the ring box, "I guess that's what I'm trying to do here." He opens the box, showing off probably the biggest ring you'd ever seen in your life. You can't take your eyes off the deep green emerald before you; you can't imagine how much it cost. "Sam..." you breathe out, misty-eyed; it's the only word you could even think of. "(Y/N)," he returns softly before taking your hand again and kissing it, "I love you," he squeezes your hand as if reassuring you that this is real and not a dream, "Will you marry me?" Sam feels guilty about asking for your hand so quickly after trying to convince Ginger to be with him, but it was the thing that made him realize you're the one. He shouldn't have to persuade and bargain with someone to be with him, and in fact, you made him feel wanted, cared for, and even loved. "Can I ask you something?" Even with your head in the clouds, you still know how to reason. "Of course." "This isn't about sex, is it?" It seemed like a silly question, but sex makes people so crazy things. "No, not at all. It's about... It's about me having you on my arm at the casino, taking you out shopping for anything you want, buying a house for us to live in, taking you out for dinner because I know you like that, and um, maybe having a family one day." You can't help but smile and let out a small giggle, "A baby?" you ask, cupping his cheek. "Yeah..." he bites his lips and looks down, realizing what he'd just asked of you, but, God, he can't help but picture you with that big pregnant belly. "Promise me something." He looks back up at you, "Anything." "Don't ever break my heart again, I don't think I could take it..." "Never," he says, pulling you towards him, he wraps an arm around your thigh and presses his head into your belly in a sort of hug. "I caused us a lot of pain. That won't ever happen again, because, well, I just can't stand being away from you," he looks up and gives you a hopeful look, a small bittersweet smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. There's a small pause, a brief moment where he nuzzles his head against your tummy and your hands gently hold the sides of his face. "Okay," you let out. "Hm?" Sam looks up at you again, "Okay?" "Okay. Ask me again," you smile down at him. "Oh, okay!" he answers, happily pulling you down to sit on his knee. With one arm wrapped around your hips and the other holding the ring in front of you. "(Y/N), honey, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?" You look up at him, a bit nervous and hesitant, but this is the man you'd always dreamed of. Sure, he'd messed up, but you're willing to give him a second chance, and you can only hope that you'll both be all in on your new relationship. You reach up, cupping his face one again and taking in his features, "Yes," you whisper, nodding your head lightly, "Yes!" you repeat, looking as if you might cry. You quickly pull him in for a kiss, needing his lips on yours. "Alright, alright," Sam chuckles, breaking up your excited kissing, "Are you gonna let me put this ring on your finger?" "I guess," you giggle. "You guess, huh?" he smiles smuggly at you, rests your left hand in one of his before slipping that big green rock on your digit. "There, now you're all mine." "Ya know, that goes both ways, Mr. Sam Rothstein. You belong to me, and I don't like sharing," you put a finger on his chest to make your point. "Good," he says lowly, as his lips meet with your again.

#robert de niro #robert de niro x reader #sam ace rothstein #casino #fanfic #sam ace rothstein x reader #sam rothstein x reader #ace rothstein #robert de niro fanfic

[lunar-wandering]

Glamours and Gauze

well. this fic now wins the title of “longest one shot i’ve ever written”.

seriously, after Shadow Play, the will to write a Macaque fic was way too strong.

Word Count: 6k

Read on Ao3

There was a loud crash outside the noodle shop.

Pigsy paid no attention to it, simply continuing to work in the kitchen, but MK paused mid-sweep of his broom, glancing towards the entrance nervously, bracing himself for a possible enemy attack. (Knowing that the Lady Bone Demon was out there...... one could never be too prepared).

Instead of an enemy however, what stumbled through the door way was a, very visibly injured and bleeding, Monkey King.

"Holy shit, are you okay?!" MK yelped, dropping his broom to the ground as he rushed over to catch Wukong as he stumbled into the shop. A bit of blood dripped down from a rather large gash on the monkey's arm down to the floor. Pigsy would probably murder MK for the stain that would make, but MK was more so concerned about the heavily wounded monkey he held in his arms at the moment. "What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." Wukong grunted out, standing up a little with a wince, trying to push MK's hands off of him, without much luck. "I just came to get some bandages or whatever, then I'll get out of your hair."

"You- You can't just walk in here bleeding and expect me to not be concerned." MK said, leveling Wukong with what he hoped was a disapproving look, before turning and yelling towards the kitchen. "Pigsy! Monkey King's injured, can you get the first aid kit?"

There was the sound of something dropping in the kitchen, MK had probably startled him, and a bit of shuffling, and then Pigsy rounded the corner, first aid kit in his hands, looking exasperated as well as worried.

"I swear, everyday it's something new with you two." He said, "Come on, lets get him upstairs. The blood will scare away customers if he stays down here."

MK nodded, and despite the Monkey King's quiet protests, managed to drag him up the stairs and into his apartment. Carefully, he directed Wukong into a chair, as Pigsy set the first aid kit down on the kitchen table.

"You already know what to do, right?" Pigsy asked, MK nodding in response. "Good. I have still have some orders to get to, but call for me if you need any extra help."

"Got it. Thanks." MK said, opening the kit and pulling out some gauze and bandages as Pigsy turned and left down the stairs. MK reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a small hand towel, wetting it with some water from the sink and adding a bit of soap.

"Okay." He said, turning back to Wukong. "I gotta clean your cuts so...... take off your shirt?"

"I can take care of myself, bud." Wukong said, quietly, but still, he complied, his shirt disappearing with a snap of his fingers, allowing MK to get a better look at his injuries. Most of the cuts didn't seem too bad, just surface wounds, but the cut on his arm was still cause for concern. MK was no expert, but it looked deep.

....Probably best to start with the most serious injury first, MK thought, giving Wukong no warning as he pressed the towel to the monkey's arm, cleaning the wound. Wukong yelped a little as he did it, his fur bristling and his tail thrashing in response.

"Sorry, probably should've warned you." MK apologized, trying to ignore the way Wukong's glare pierced into him. He hadn't noticed it before, far too worried about the very injured Monkey King in front of him but something seemed.....off about all of this. He wasn't sure what, and honestly, it could just how worried he was for his mentor's health, and nothing else. But still, his instincts had yet to steer him wrong before....... He shook those thoughts out of his head as he examined the injury. "Hm.... Not as deep as I thought. Good news is, it doesn't seem like you need stitches."

Wukong scoffed a little at that, rolling his eyes in a way that clearly communicated how obvious he felt that statement was. MK chose to ignore it, picking the gauze up off the table and starting to tightly wrap it around the monkey's arm.

"You know, I could've sworn all the stories said you were pretty much invulnerable." MK said, in an attempt to make conversation. The Monkey King had been unusually quiet this whole time, after all.

"Heh. You shouldn't believe every story you hear, bud." Wukong said again, and somehow, that was all it took for things to finally click into place. Sure, the Monkey King called MK 'bud' all the time, along with a variety of other nicknames he'd thrown into the mix, but the way he said it just now, his tone-

MK froze as the dots connected in his mind, slowly glancing up at the monkey's face, finding that the other was purposefully avoiding his gaze.

It didn't take true golden sight to figure out who the person MK was currently bandaging up really was.

Not wanting to seem suspicious, MK slowly went back to winding the gauze around the monkey's arm, trying to sort through his thoughts.

Okay. So. The Six Eared Macaque was currently sitting right in front of him. He was disguised as the Monkey King, who was MK's mentor. The last time MK had seen Macaque, he'd kidnapped his friends, attacked him, but then let them all go, giving MK a cryptid warning as he left. And now-

And now he was injured.

And he'd come to MK for help.

As for why the shadow monkey would turn to him for help, MK had no idea, but. As much as he distrusted Macaque, he couldn't just not help someone who was injured.

Alright. Okay. MK could work with this.

He stayed silent as he continued to treat Macaque's wounds, trying to put his anxiety over the fact that he was treating Macaque, of all people, out of his mind.

"...So." He started, nervously, as he finished wrapping up the last of the cuts. "Uh. Any other injuries I should know about?"

"What?" Macaque asked, sounding somewhat.... dazed and confused. MK had been so deep in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that the monkey had been spacing out.

"I asked if you were injured anywhere else." MK repeated, narrowing his eyes as Macaque's eyebrow twitched as he looked away, tail swinging back and forth.

"Uh, no. Don't think so." He muttered, seeming.....unusually quiet and meeker than MK remembered him being. Then again, he was supposed to still be pretending to be Wukong, since he didn't know MK had figured him out yet, but still.

"Well. 'Kay, that's obviously a lie." MK said, crossing his arms. "Seriously, are you injured anywhere else? Did you get hit on the head or something?"

Macaque didn't answer, staring at some point on the nearby wall. MK sighed, taking that as a yes.

So probably a concussion then. That......explained why he'd decided to come here for help, of all places. Or, well, at least explained a bit of it.

MK pulled some ice cubes out of his freezer, putting them in a little plastic bag, before wrapping a cloth around it, and placing it in Macaque's hand.

"What's this for?" Macaque asked.

"Put on your head, wherever it was you got hit. It's for the concussion." MK explained, putting the materials he'd used back into the first aid kit and closing it up. "Stay here. I'm going to bring this back down to Pigsy."

Leaving Macaque alone in MK's apartment was probably not the best decision he could've possibly made, but it really didn't seem like the shadow monkey planned on moving anytime soon, from the way he'd slumped against the chair, holding an makeshift ice pack against the side of his head. With one last look over his shoulder to make sure Macaque hadn't moved, MK turned and walked down the stairs.

He found Pigsy in the kitchen washing dishes, as expected.

"How's the monkey doing?" Pigsy asked, once he'd noticed that MK had entered the room.

"Oh, uh, he's fine, other than the mild concussion, but uh. He's um. Not who we thought he was." MK started, setting the first aid kit back into it's usual spot on a nearby counter. "You remember Macaque, the one from the shadow play a week or so ago?"

Pigsy paused, gently setting a place down into the sink as he turned around to give MK his full attention, wiping the soapy water on his hands off onto a hand towel as he did so.

"You mean to tell me." He said, "That the shadow monkey that attacked us a week ago is up in your apartment? And you just left him there? Alone?"

"He's injured, it's not like he's going to go anywhere." MK said, although he wasn't entirely sure if said statement was even true. "Besides, I think. Well I think there's more to him than meets the eye."

"Look, kid." Pigsy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I trust your judgement. However, if that monkey makes a single move against you-"

"Then he's out of here, I know." MK said, turning to head back up the stairs. He'd left Macaque alone for long enough, after all. "I assure you Pigsy, if I need help, I'll call for you. Promise."

"....Whatever." Pigsy said, "Just go and keep an eye on him. I'll text the others and tell them what's up."

"Thanks!" MK said, and he rushed back up the stairs.

-

Macaque wasn't sitting in the chair.

For a brief moment, panic flung through MK's mind, wondering if, he had, in fact, been duped.

But....there was no way someone could fake injuries like that, and nothing seemed to be out of place, the windows and door still closed, so where-

There was some rustling in the living room.

Cautiously, MK slowly walked around the corner-

Macaque was laying, face down, on the couch. His injured arm dangled off the side, his hand barely touching the floor, the ice pack lazily positioned on top of his head. His tail was curled up beside him, still.

He was no longer disguised as Wukong.

MK cautiously approached him, before lightly poking his back.

No reaction, but he still seemed to be breathing normally. He'd probably fallen asleep.

Well.... MK supposed he could leave him be for now. He'd have to wake him up in a few hours or so, both to make sure that the cut on his arm hadn't gotten infected, and to check on that concussion, but as of right now, he could let him rest. He didn't really want to let Macaque out of his sight again though, so instead he grabbed one of his sketchbooks and pencils and sat down on the floor, doodling as he waited.

-

Macaque woke up to something poking him in the side. He groaned, rolling over-

And tumbled right off the couch and onto the floor with a pained yelp. He landed on his stomach, thankfully not hitting his head again on the way down. Upon this rude awakening, on pure instinct, he immediately shifted back into whatever disguise he'd been wearing before he'd fallen asleep.

Grumbling under his breath, he slowly pushed himself up, looking over to the side.

Oh. And there was Wukong's kid, sitting on the floor, holding his staff and looking both nervous and guilty.

.....Ah, that's right, Macaque had, in a moment of weakness, chosen to go to MK for help. As for what had been going through his mind when he'd chosen to do that, Macaque had no idea, but at least he'd disguised himself as Wukong first-

Wait. His disguise. He'd fallen asleep.

.....How long had the kid been sitting there? Had he seen-

"I'm sorry!" MK squeaked out, distracting Macaque from his thoughts. "I had to wake you up- to check on your injuries. I didn't think you'd uh. Fall."

Macaque did his best attempt at a 'Sun Wukong Original Smile'. He think he only half succeeded.

"It's uh, fine, bud." Macaque said, mentally trying to pull himself together. Come on, he's an actor, he acts every time he has to interact, he can do this. "You uh, did a good job, but I think I'm mostly healed by now already so I'll just get out of your way-"

"Wait." MK interrupted, and Macaque, who had stood up and turned to walk towards the door, froze mid-step.

He could not do this.

"You don't....need to stay disguised as Monkey King." MK said, and Macaque's fur bristled. Fuck, he'd been found out already, time to get the hell out of dodge-

"Ohoho? So you've figured me out already huh?" Macaque said, letting his Wukong glamour drop, but keeping his other ones, his most important ones, up. He pulled the shadows closer to himself, to make a more threatening appearance. "Hah, I guess every fool has moments of lucidity. Well, I've got all I wanted-" That was a lie, he'd gotten nothing, but might as well make the kid panic for a while wondering what he'd taken, right? That's what villains did, right? "-So I'll just be on my way now. See you later, bud."

Macaque turned, fully intending to walk into the shadows on the wall and teleport away-

The front door swung open, and the lights, which Macaque hadn't even registered had been off, switched on, flooding the room with light. The shadows crumbled in the brightness-

And Macaque smacked right into the wall.

He fell back to the floor, hissing in pain, his tail swishing as his previous wounds, both from the earlier fight and from falling off the couch, were agitated. He rubbed his head as a new batch of pain swept through it.

"MK!" He heard Mei shout, as she came in through the door, a true storm of energy. "I came as soon as I could- is that him?"

Macaque, still rubbing his head, (he was pretty sure his concussion from the fight was gone by now, but honestly he might've just gotten a brand new one), glanced up, seeing that Mei was looking at him with an appraising gaze.

"He doesn't really look all that menacing without the cloak to be honest." She said, shrugging. Macaque blinked at her, confused.

"What? No, you know what, it doesn't matter, I'm leaving." He said, standing up and dusting off his outfit, trying to put what had just happened as far away from his current thoughts as possible. (Later, he told himself, later he could scream into a pillow about how fucking embarrassing what just happened was. But he couldn't focus on it, not now.). With as much dignity he could muster at the moment, he slipped past Mei, walking out the door she'd left wide open.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Someone asked, and Macaque abruptly felt something grab onto his scarf. He stumbled, turning around to see who'd grabbed him, only to find himself standing in front of a large, blue, fish demon.

Ah. This must be that 'Sandy' that Tang had mentioned. Macaque had never met him, and honestly, right now, he really didn't want to.

"Ah, I was just leaving-" He started, tugging on his scarf, trying to get Sandy to let go.

His grip didn't even waver.

"But I haven't even gotten the chance to meet you yet!" Sandy said, easily scooping Macaque up despite the shadow monkey's protests. "Come on back in, I'll even make you some tea!"

Was literally anything going to go as planned today?

Apparently not, as Sandy unceremoniously dropped Macaque back onto the couch, the monkey scrambling to right himself so that he didn't go tumbling off the piece of furniture again.

"What kind of tea do you like?" Sandy asked, "Mint? Peach?"

"I don't like peaches." Macaque hissed, "And I don't like tea."

"Coffee then?" Sandy asked, and proceeded to take Macaque's silence as a yes.

"There's some instant coffee in the 3rd cupboard on the right." MK instructed, and Sandy nodded, heading into the kitchen and quickly setting up a teapot of water on the stove to boil.

"So~" Mei started, plopping herself down on the couch beside Macaque, showing a surprising lack of fear at his presence. "What exactly are you doing here, huh? You going to kidnap our souls again?"

"Oh for the love of- no, the lamp is gone anyways." Macaque huffed, keeping his eyes on the kitchen. He wasn't a fool, he knew a powerful demon when he saw one. Sure, Sandy was only making tea right now, but he'd have to be extra careful around him in the future. "I would've left already if you guys didn't keep trying to keep me here, for some stupid reason I can't even begin to comprehend."

"Well, after much debate, we've decided to attempt to add you to our anti-hit list." MK said, casually leaning against a wall. If the room had been darker, Macaque would've taken great pleasure in having his shadow appear behind him to freak him out a little, but as it was right now....

"What the fuck is an anti-hit list?" Macaque asked, genuinely confused, but didn't get an answer as Sandy walked out, carrying a tray with four cups, three filled with tea, one with coffee, and a small plate of cookies and fruits. He set them down on a small table that, to be honest, Macaque hadn't even noticed. MK and Mei happily picked up their cups, sipping at their tea. Macaque didn't touch his cup, staring at it with obvious distrust. 

"Aren't you going to drink your coffee?" MK asked.

"How am I meant to know it's not poisoned?" Macaque scoffed in response.

"Because Sandy would never do that? I can taste test it for you, if you really want me to-" MK said.

"No thanks, don't want to be contaminated with your dirty Monkey King Successor Saliva." Macaque said, smirking when MK sighed in irritation. Good, maybe if he got under the kid's nerves, he'd let him leave.

"Why don't you try some of the cookies and fruits then?" MK asked, biting into one of the said snacks, "The rest of us are eating them without a care, so they're not poisoned."

"You could just be avoiding the ones that you poisoned so that I'll eat them." Macaque said, relishing in how MK huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to be fooled so easily. You do remember who I am, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, the Six Eared Macaque or whatever." MK grumbled, and Mei stifled a laugh.

"Kind of a weird name for someone who doesn't have six ears." She said, before pausing. "...Wait, do you have six ears?"

"...It's more of a nickname, really." Macaque mumbled, eyebrow twitching, suddenly very much disliking where this conversation was going. He stood up, pushing the cup that he hadn't bothered to drink out of to the side. "Anyways, I think I've overstayed my welcome here, so if you don't mind-"

"Not so fast." Sandy said, stopping Macaque before he could even take a step.

"What now?" Macaque hissed, glaring at him.

Sandy grabbed hold of Macaque's hand and dropped a tea bag into it.

"I know you said you didn't like tea-" He said, "-But I figured you should take some with you anyways. This one specifically is good for relaxing!"

Macaque rolled his eyes, but he still shoved the tea bag into his pocket, something the others took note of. With a quick glance at MK and Mei to make sure they weren't going to try and stop him again, Macaque finally, finally, left.

-

Cursing himself with every step he took, Macaque snuck into MK's kitchen, pulling out the tea bag Sandy had given him. He'd tried, oh he'd tried, to rest on top of the roof but, as he was right now, he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

Sandy had said this tea was good for relaxation. He could probably trust that, just a little bit.

Keeping an ear (or two. or three. or four-) out to make sure MK didn't wake up, Macaque slowly and quietly set up the tea kettle on the stove. He pulled a mug out of one of the cupboards, and set it down on the counter. Restlessly, he tapped his foot on the ground as he waited for the water to boil.

Really, he'd rather be anywhere but here, in the middle of the night, making tea in the apartment of Wukong's Successor.

But, truthfully, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. The Lady Bone Demon obviously had records of all the places Macaque would usually hide out. He wasn't very keen on getting captured again when he'd only just barely escaped.

Right now, staying close to MK was probably the safest place he could be. The kid was under Wukong's protection after all.

...Whether or not Wukong would arrive in time to maintain said protection was up for debate, but the kid is powerful. He'd be enough.

Macaque barely managed to get the kettle off the stove before it started whistling. He poured the water into his cup, blew on it to cool it down, and took a sip.

...Huh. So Sandy hadn't been lying. The tea actually was pretty good, and Macaque found himself leaning against the counter lazily as he continued to sip it. To be honest, he hasn't eaten or drunk anything in... a while, technically he didn't really need to, he could live without it, but. Something about this was... nice, he supposed.

He felt a bit more relaxed than before, almost enough to no longer notice the small aching pains of his healing injuries-

The cut on his arm throbbed with an extreme amount of pain, and Macaque tensed, tail curling up, doing a full body shudder-

The cup went tumbling to the floor.

-

MK woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a crash and quiet swearing coming from the kitchen. Quickly, he shot out of bed, summoning his staff and rounding the corner-

He just barely caught a glimpse of a shadow slipping back out through the window.

Keeping his guard up, MK slowly reached over and flicked on the lights.

There was nobody there.

But somebody had been there- The kettle was not where he'd left it earlier, and-

There was a broken cup laying on the floor, some remnant drops of tea around it, as well as a very familiar tea bag.

MK sighed, putting the staff away and getting his broom out of the closet instead. He swept up the broken pieces, throwing them into the garbage can. He paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he activated his golden vision, and looked up.

Sure enough, he could see a faint golden outline of Macaque pacing on the roof.

MK debated, for a while, whether or not he should go up there and confront him. After all, an explanation as to why Macaque had broken into his apartment in the middle of the night just to make tea, instead of drinking it earlier when they offered, would be nice information to have.

On the other hand though, MK was tired, and it was late, and honestly, from the way Macaque was pacing, it didn't look like he'd be leaving the roof anytime soon.

MK turned around and went back to bed.

-

When MK climbed the ladder to the roof in the morning, still clad in his pyjama's, his phone tucked in his pocket, the roof seemed to be empty.

MK had long since learned that when things involved Macaque, not everything was as it seemed.

Specifically, a bunch of shadows on the nearby wall looked rather suspicious, if you were asking him. He dug his phone out and turned on the flashlight, shining it over the shadowy spot.

Almost immediately, Macaque fell out of the, now non-existent, shadows, barely catching himself from having another close encounter with the ground. He stumbled a little, clearly off balance. For a moment he looked like he hadn't slept at all, his fur mussed, bags under his eyes-

MK didn't get to see much of it, for as soon as he blinked, Macaque was back to looking the same way he always did.

"Would you stop doing that?" Macaque hissed, glaring at him. MK blinked, turning off the flash and pocketing his phone again.

"Uh. Good morning?" MK said, and, seeing no way to phrase the question delicately, asked; ".....Why did you break into my apartment in the middle of the night?"

"Heh, what are you talking about?" Macaque said, sliding back into his 'cool and composed' persona almost effortlessly. "You must've dreamed it, bud."

MK, in fact, had considered the possibility that it had been a dream when he woke up in the morning. However, the broken porcelain and used tea bag laying in his trashcan proved otherwise. He was about to point this out- when a familiar dull pang ran through his head.

Oh shit, not now.

"Hey, bud!" The Monkey King's voice said, a golden see through version of him appearing at MK's side. "I uh, know I kinda brushed you off the last time, sorry about that, but I figured I'd check in and see how you were doing!"

"Not now, Monkey King." MK whispered, under his breath, but of course, Macaque still heard it.

"Monkey King?" He questioned, before registering the way MK was looking slightly to the side, a slight golden glow reflecting in his eyes. "Ah. He's doing the astral projecting thing, isn't he."

MK didn't answer, instead trying to give Wukong the hint that now was not the time.

"Why, are you busy with something? Meh, I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle." Wukong said, and MK sighed. "Look, my vacation will be over soon, okay? There's just a few more uh, friends I need to visit, and then-"

A hand landed on MK's shoulder, and he barely restrained himself from startling as another, different pang ran through his mind.

"Monkey King! Good to see ya, bud." Macaque said, sarcasm colouring his voice. "How's your little vacation treating you huh?"

"Macaque." Wukong hissed, looking shocked, but quickly transitioning into anger. "What are you doing with MK?"

"Me? Why would you assume I've done anything to your little apprentice?" Macaque said, "You should be thinking about what you've done, honestly."

"Wh- what are you going on about now?" Wukong asked. Macaque laughed.

"Seriously? You need me to explain it to you? Oh, that's rich." He said, "Wukong, you really need to learn how to take a step back and see the world outside of you, because you obviously haven't realized that you've left your successor behind."

"I- I haven't left him behind." Wukong said, although the glance he sent in MK's direction spoke volumes about how much he actually believed that. "I'm coming right back, MK, as soon as this is done. I promise."

"Oho, we all know exactly how good you are with promises, Wukong." Macaque said, his tail thrashing back and forth. Wukong looked pained for a moment-

And then the connection cut off, Wukong not even saying goodbye as his see through form turned around before fading away. Macaque took his hand off MK's shoulder, laughing in a way that felt....forced.

"Ha....same old Monkey King, huh." He said, crossing his arms. "As much as he tries to insist other wise, he really does never change."

"What, was that?" MK asked, looking Macaque up and down. He'd stayed quiet during their conversation, but now... "Seriously dude, what the fuck?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Macaque said, waving him off. "Anyways, what are you doing on the rooftop this lovely morning?"

"I should be asking you that." MK responded, "Also, don't think I don't realize that you're attempting to deflect."

"Deflection who? Never heard of her." Macaque said, sitting down on the edge of the roof, his legs swinging off the side. "Besides, don't you have a job to do?"

MK looked down at the clock on his phone. 9:30 am. Shit, Macaque was right, MK did have to be getting to work.

"This conversation isn't over." He said. Macaque pretended like he didn't hear him.

When MK finally got a break and headed back up to the roof, the shadow monkey was gone.

-

Macaque ended up showing up in the noodle shop, two days later.

Tang had nearly choked on his noodles when the monkey had suddenly appeared out of nowhere beside him, barely keeping himself from yelling in surprise. Macaque hadn't even glanced at him, resolutely staring down at the counter instead. Everything about his body language implied that he'd rather be anywhere but here.

So..... why was he here?

Everyone very much wanted to ask, but one look from Pigsy shut them up. They all knew Pigsy's habit of helping people, MK and Tang had experienced it first hand after all, and they deferred to his judgement on things like this.

So they let Macaque be, silently sitting on the stool, his tail swinging back and forth.

Pigsy pulled MK into the kitchen.

"Kid," He started, "When you patched up Macaque, how much gauze did you use, exactly?"

"Only enough to wrap up his arm." MK answered, "There was plenty left afterwards. Why?"

"And you made sure to put it back in the kit?"

"Yeah.....why are you asking me this?"

Pigsy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was doing inventory earlier- checking to see what things I'd need to stock up on. Figured I'd check the first aid kit too, since you'd used it." Pigsy said, "The gauze is gone kid. And I mean like, gone, gone. There ain't any left at all. Like it was never there in the first place."

"That's....weird." MK said, scratching his head. "Who would want to steal gauze?"

"That's what I'm wondering too."

-

Red Son happened to visit the noodle shop that day. He paused as he entered through the door, noting the monkey demon sitting at the counter, resting his head on one hand.

"...I see you peasants have forced another person into your friend group from hell." He said to Mei, leaning up against a wall. Mei elbowed him in the stomach in response.

"You say that as though you aren't also part of our friend group." She said, rolling her eyes. Red Son huffed, but didn't argue with her claim, so she took that as a win. "Also, he isn't exactly in the friend category yet. We're working on it."

"If he isn't in the friend category, then why is he even here?" Red Son asked, "It's not every day a random demon monkey decides to just hang out in a noodle shop, of all places."

"First of all, his name is Macaque." MK said, walking over to where Mei and Red Son were standing, holding a broom in his hand, since he'd just finished sweeping up the kitchen. "Secondly, we're not sure why he's here. He just kinda, showed up."

"And don't diss the noodle shop either." Mei said, "We all know you like it here as much as we do."

"Whatever." Red Son said, before turning to MK with narrowed eyes. "Anyways, are you okay, Noodle Boy?"

"....What do you mean?" MK asked.

"I can smell blood."

Unseen to the group of three, Macaque tensed, head snapping up as he looked over to them.

"I'm fine though?" MK said, a questioning lilt in his voice. "I haven't fought...anyone, really, in over a week, and I don't think I've cut myself on anything.... Are you sure the spices aren't messing with you?"

"It's kind of hard to mistake the smell of blood, Noodle Boy." Red Son said, rolling his eyes.

Macaque slowly stood up, starting to make his way towards the door. Unfortunately for him, this movement caught Mei's attention.

"Where are you going?" She asked, drawing MK and Red Son's attention to Macaque who, upon realizing he'd been noticed, stepped forwards much quicker, looking like he was about to run-

He stumbled, one hand going up to his head, his other arm waving off to the side as he struggled for balance, tumbling backwards. MK dropped the broom and caught him before he could hit the ground. In front of the group's eye's, Macaque's form seemed to glitch, revealing, for a moment, mussed up fur, a scar over his eye, six ears-

And blood soaked gauze wrapped around his arm.

Almost as soon as they'd seen it, it was gone again, replaced with Macaque's usual look.

There was silence, for a moment.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" MK asked.

"I'm fine." Macaque hissed, attempting to shove MK's hands off of him, struggling. When he found that he couldn't, he stopped, slumping a little. "Put me down."

"No no no, we're not going to pretend that we didn't just see that." MK said, adjusting his grip and lifting Macaque up.

"Wh- what are you doing, I said to put me down, not pick me up." Macaque said, fur bristling. "Also, you didn't see anything. You're hallucinating."

"Stop deflecting." MK said, gesturing vaguely for Mei and Red Son to follow him, as he carried the monkey up the stairs. "If you're still hurt, we need to treat it."

Macaque didn't respond, and MK looked down to see that his eyes were closed, his form flickering again.

"Huh. I guess he really does have six ears." Mei said from behind him.

"Now is not the time, Dragon Girl." Red Son said. MK ignored them as he unlocked the door to his apartment, walking into the living room and laying Macaque down on the carpet. He might regret that later, blood stains were hell to wash out, but that was a problem for future MK.

Macaque's form flickered again, except this time, it stayed on the version of him that looked.... well if MK was being honest, he looked awful. His face was pale, and his fur looked like it hadn't been brushed in weeks.

Not to mention the bloody gauze around his arm.

MK made quick work of removing it, wincing whenever Macaque whimpered in pain in response to the injury being touched. As soon as the injury was uncovered, the trio sucked in a horrified breath.

"...I don't understand." MK whispered, "He's a demon, demons heal quickly right? He got this injury at least 3 days ago, so why is it-"

"It's cursed." Red Son said, sounding terrified, for once. "He's been struck by a cursed blade. Whoever did this really does want him dead."

"What do we do?" MK asked, "We can't just let him... let him bleed to death."

"You mentioned before that Wukong has a room full of items, back on Flower Fruit Mountain?" Red Son asked. MK nodded in response. "He probably has something there that could help."

MK, who had kneeled on the floor to check Macaque's injury, quickly stood up, summoning the staff.

"Mei, get Pigsy and the others. They'll probably be better at taking care of him right now than we are." He said, before turning back to Red Son. "How will I know if I've found something that will help?"

"Truthfully, I couldn't tell you." Red Son said, shrugging. "I've never had to deal with something like this before. ...I'm sure you'd know when you see it though."

"Oh, sure, that's real helpful." MK said, sarcastically, and proceeded to turn and run out the door.

-

"Seriously why does Monkey King have so much stuff!" MK yelled, throwing a box of jewels at a wall. He'd been searching frantically through the mountains of items for.... about ten minutes, and he was, honestly, tired of it. "Would it kill him to hold a garage sale once in a while? Maybe then I'd actually be able to find shit!"

"Hey, each of these items are near and dear to me, I'll have you know."

MK yelped, summoning the staff as he whirled around, coming face to face with none other than Sun Wukong himself.

"Monkey King!" MK said, "You're back?"

"Yep, managed to get all that I- uh, I mean, I managed to catch up with everyone." Wukong said, lazily laying back on his cloud. "Anyways, mind telling me what you're doing in my storage room?"

"...You're not going to like the answer to that." MK nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that Macaque and Wukong had a history, and although he didn't know the full details, he knew that the two of them didn't get along now. Truthfully, he had no idea if Wukong would even be willing to help Macaque at all.

MK himself wasn't entirely sure why he was helping him either, really, he'd done nothing to warrant it.

But then again, he hadn't done anything that warranted a slow death via bleeding out either.

"I'm sure that whatever it is can't be that bad." Wukong said, "It takes a lot to surprise me, kid."

"Macaque is currently bleeding out on my carpet."

"He's what?!"

-

When Macaque woke up, he was back on the couch again. He vaguely recalled passing out after MK had carried him up the stairs, but to be honest, that whole event was.... a little blurry for him. He thinks he woke up a few more times afterwards, but between the blurry faces and surprisingly muffled sounds, he can't make heads or tails of what happened.

He sighed, not really wanting to get up yet, snuggling back down into the couch-

He can hear another heartbeat. There's someone in the room with him.

Macaque sat up laser fast, throwing his usual glamours back on.

"Ah ah ah, none of that now."

Something lightly tapped his shoulder, and Macaque's glamour dissolved completely as a slight golden light went over him.

He turned his head to see Wukong sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Don't want you to pass out on us again after we just healed you." He said, "Seriously, try to keep from using a lot of magic in the next few days. You'll heal faster."

"Oh that's rich, coming from Mr. 'I can't stay in bed for 2 hours'. You don't think I've forgotten when you got hit with that energy depletion curse, did you?" Macaque retorted, crossing his arms. Wukong gave a nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"To be honest, I was hoping you did forget that, actually." He said.

"Please. As though I'd ever forget something that led to the honorable Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, walking right into a tree." Macaque said, a smirk on his face.

They were both avoiding talking about what had happened between them. Neither of them truly felt they were ready for that yet.

They were in MK's apartment though, so they could at least try to avoid an actual fight.

"What's this I hear about Monkey King walking into a tree?" MK said, walking into the room. Pigsy and Mei followed close behind him.

"Ah, it's nothing, he's just lying like always. The medicine is probably making him think of things that aren't true." Wukong said, and Macaque rolled his eyes.

"If you give me some plums later, I'll tell you all about it, MK." Macaque said, ignoring Wukong's protests. "Monkey King needs to get knocked down a peg or two, in my opinion."

"MK, I swear if you agree to that-" Wukong warned.

"Deal." MK said, holding out his hand for Macaque to shake. Wukong yelled in outrage as Macaque laughed.

"Heh, nice to see the two of you actually getting along, for once." Pigsy said, leaning over the back of the couch as he ruffled the fur on the top of both Wukong and Macaque's heads.

Both monkeys froze.

"....You two okay?" MK asked. Wukong and Macaque glanced at each other. An agreement had been made.

They would never speak of this.

In near perfect sync, the both of them leapt off the couch, turning and running off in different directions, Wukong going out a window, while Macaque chose the slightly more reasonable option of going out the door.

MK, Mei, and Pigsy stood there in shock for a moment, as they watched the two monkeys get further away.

".....Stupid touch starved monkeys." Pigsy sighed, turning and heading back down to the restaurant. He'd had enough Monkey Madness for one day.

MK and Mei glanced at each other, and then back in the directions Wukong and Macaque had gone.

"Uhh, I go get Monkey King, you go get Macaque?" MK said.

"You wanna make it a race? See who can get one of them to come back first?" Mei asked.

"Absolutely. Ready?"

"As always."

"Then 3, 2, 1, go!" MK yelled, and two of them ran off, chasing after Wukong and Macaque.

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing

[babyflossy]

long overdue | l.dh

pairing: haechan x reader

requested: yes! sorry this took so long :(

summary: when you move back home after a few years apart, haechan starts to see you in a different light, and eventually the tension between you overpowers your worries about ruining your friendship.

genre/warnings: bestfriend to lovers au, smut (dirty talk, slight overstim if you squint?), fluff

word count: 4k

since your first day of elementary school, donghyuck had been your best friend. on that very first day, he had shared his animal crackers with you on the playground bench when you'd dropped yours, and you'd been inseparable ever since. even when your parents moved you away for the majority of middle school, you talked over the phone, you'd even sent each other handwritten letters through the post until donghyuck got his first phone.

the summer before high school started, your parents decided it was best to move back, and suddenly things were different between you and donghyuck. for one, he'd adopted haechan as a nickname, which you couldn't deny suited him more than you'd ever admit, but those four years had seen a lot of changes in the both of you. changes you couldn't ignore.

that stupid smirk he was always wearing was one. the growth-spurt and the jawline and the attractive shape of his shoulders had just been the things you noticed first, let alone the flirty humour he was so comfortable with. nevertheless, the two of you fell back into your old best-friend ways since elementary school; ice cream on fridays, although now they were at two in the morning instead of the afternoon, burgers at the diner on wednesdays because wednesdays are the worst day of the week.

these thoughts cross your mind once again as the boy in question slides into the chair opposite you in the cafeteria, pushing a tray towards you. "they had fries," is the only thing he says to you before he turns to jaemin and starts talking quietly about how they're going to cheat on their chemistry test. you murmur a thank you, picking a few up and stuffing them into your mouth as you continue your conversation with mark, your replacement whilst you were gone, as hyuck had so elegantly put it.

"are you coming to lucas' party tonight?" he asks, stealing some of the fries in front of you before you can swat his hand away. opposite you, haechan has blocked jaemin's voice out of his head so he can hear your answer, hating the way his heart skips a beat in anticipation. these parties were nothing new, you went to almost every single one, but haechan never got used to the clothes you wore, so much more revealing than the ones you to school. it was undeniable in those moments the way his cheeks flushed at the sight of you.

when he had first noticed these thoughts about you, he had been terrified. you were his childhood friend, how could he think of you as anything more than that? surely it would break the two of you apart if he so much as mentioned it to you? over the years since you moved back, however, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable state of flirtatiousness. he would say something suggestive and you would simply laugh and retort with a quip equally as witty. it was second nature, now; the longing glances, the way your hands brushed together when you walked side by side, the way his heart fluttered whenever you stole his hoodies, but only the ones that still smelt of him. your voice brings him back to the present.

"as if i would miss a party," you laugh, and the sound seems brighter every time to haechan, "are you driving everyone?" when mark shakes his head you raise your eyebrows in question and he nods to jeno, the dedicated sober friend for this week. the one good thing about not having your driver's license is that you were never denoted to that role.

as the school day comes to a close you meet haechan outside the back entrance, ready to walk home. the proximity of your houses meant it was always convenient for you both to walk home together, and it made haechan feel better to see you get home safe, he would never tell you that, though. he stands to the side of the crowd streaming out the door and waves you over when he spots your head in the sea of pupils. you shoot him a sunny smile that has his heartbeat pumping in his eardrums.

"you ready, princess?" the familiar smirk is present and you roll your eyes at the nickname, not allowing him the satisfaction of knowing how much it affected you, "you going home after tonight?" he asks as you break out the school car park and onto the pavement, steps falling into rhythm.

"i'm not sure yet, i doubt i'll be able to sneak back in," you scrunch your nose in contemplation, weighing up your options, "i'll probably tell my parents i'm staying at yeri's or something."

you miss the frown that settles on his face, "and stay at lucas'? alone?" haechan tries not to show how much he doesn't like that idea. lucas was a good person, he knows, but he would worry about you no matter who's house you would stay at. it was just part of your relationship at this point.

"yeah?" you stare at him in confusion, oblivious to the way his eyes flicker away when you try to meet his gaze. "what, you want me to come and sleep with you?" as soon as the words left your mouth you realised the second meaning to them and tried to ignore how your face blazed. it was your turn to avoid his eyes as you tried to pretend you had meant that word choice.

"if that's what you want, babygirl," a wink punctuates his words and heat spreads through you. you roll your eyes at him again.

jeno had, as promised, come to collect you from your house, laughing as you ran through your garden to avoid being spotted by your parents. jeno's car is smaller than mark's, all the seats already taken, but before you can ask where you're supposed to sit he presses on the accelerator. hands come to brace you as you nearly fall and your placed onto someone's lap. you can tell it's haechan from the expensive cologne that overwhelms your senses, the warm hands on your waist maintaining their position even after jeno's driving at a normal speed again.

the drive to lucas' house is short but bumpy and you grasp the seat in front of you to stop the jostling. when the car speeds over a bump haechan's fingers dig into your sides, his forehead falling onto your shoulder. you try and turn around to face him but his hands dig in further, stopping you from moving anymore. just as you're about to ask him what's wrong you feel a hardness pressing against the inside of your thigh and your eyes widen.

the flirty jokes you always exchanged meant something, you knew, but the feeling of him underneath you makes you heat up. you're frozen for a moment before a wave of smugness washes through you. haechan was always the one to make you flustered, and to know you had the same effect on him was something you wouldn't forget.

when the car finally stops in front of lucas' house, the others pile out before you two and you face him, raising your eyebrows. you open your mouth to tease him but he beats you to it, "fuck off." is all he says before he stalks towards the front door. you have to jog to keep up with him.

"really? in the car?" haehan rolls his eyes but the blush on his cheeks and the darkness in his eyes is obvious.

"if you weren't wiggling your ass, this wouldn't have happened–"

"i was not wiggling my ass, it's not my fault you're just needy," he stops walking at your words and spins around to face you, eyes narrowed in a look you assume is supposed to be intimidating. it's kinda hot, though, you think.

"i am not needy!" the laugh you let out only seems to upset him further and he takes a step towards you, "i can show you what needy is–"

"are you guys coming or what?" jaemin shouts from the doorway and haechan’s eyes flicker away from you to glare at him. before you can get another word out he’s walking as fast as he can away from you, shoulders squared of defensively. you can hear the pounding music from the house and you decided to forget about his attitude for the night and have as much fun as you can.

five drinks in and haechan is the last thing on your mind. the harsh liquid had burned at first but as lucas offers you a sixth you don't feel it slip down your throat. he grins and you match it, head spinning and vision blurring, the bassline of the music pounding in your ears. lucas has always been a great host, and he laughs at the way stumble from the kitchen counter he sits on. litres upon litres of free alcohol fills the table in front of you and you reach for a colourful blue bottle that fizzes when you twist the top off. he passes you a red plastic cup and the drink spills over the sides as you try and pour it, lucas' laugh piercing through your head which starts throbbing with the beginnings of a headache.

as if he can sense the state you're in, jeno appears in your line of sight, head shaking disapprovingly. you put up a fight when he takes the cup out of your hand and tips it down the sink but give up quickly when jeno shoots you a stern stare. lucas has already slinked off back to his living room where the rest of the guests reside, hands waving at people as a pretty brunette pulls him to the corner of the room. "you're already drunk, y/n."

"no i'm not," you insist but you can hear the way they slur together. the sound of them is foreign to your ears and they make you giggle, the sixth shot you had taken moments before starting to take effect. when you try and walk towards the drink's table your knees buckle under you and jeno has to catch you to stop you falling to the floor.

"this is why i hate being the sober friend," he mumbles as he sets you down on the floor to prevent you from hurting yourself, pulling your hands away when they reach to pull on his hair, muttering about his hair colour.

"now that, i whole-heartedly agree with," the new voice belongs to johnny, who frowns in amusement at the position you're in, giggling hysterically at jeno's hair. "hyuck's in a similar shape, we just put him upstairs in the spare room."

"can you help me take her up? she can't walk properly." their conversation falls on deaf ears to you and you're staring at everything in the kitchen and yet nothing at all as they both take one of your arms, hoisting you into an upright position. standing up, you last all but five seconds on your own before you put all your weight into them and allow yourself to be carried up the stairs.

true to johnny's word, haechan is sat on the edge of the bed, head between his knees whilst jaehyun crouches to talk to him, rubbing his back with a sympathetic smile on his face.

you call out when you see him, "haechannie!" and his head shoots up at the sound of your voice, all the darkness of his eyes from earlier dissipated.

"y/n!" johnny and jeno place you carefully on the bed next to him and meet jaehyun by the door to watch you. haechan's arm is already around your shoulder, your head planted on his shoulder, unclear if you're passed out already or not.

"where are they staying?" jaehyun asks, eyes not leaving the pair in front of him, grimacing when you bump heads with each other.

"i think here?"

"you really wanna leave them alone like this?" johnny questions as he watches you press kisses to the side of haechan's neck, turning to face him.

jeno considers his options for a moment. leave the two of you alone drunk and clearly ready to omit any rational thoughts, or stay here and try to keep you off each other. or, he supposes, he could bribe someone else to do it for him. yes, that's what he'll do. he'll find jaemin.

once the others leave and you're left alone, hands are immediately on your waist, pulling you into a kiss. haechan rubs his thumbs into the exposed skin of your middle, pressing his lips to yours in such a desperate manner you can do nothing but sit and kiss back. the hands pull you onto his lap and you waste no time threading your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, subconsciously grinding your hips down onto him.

"i've wanted to do this for ages," he moans into your neck, fingers hastily skimming over your skin, trying to touch you everywhere at once.

"i told you you were needy," the reminder does nothing to halt his actions, accepting your words with nothing but a hum, hands now making their way up your shirt to the clasp of your bra.

just as he's battling with the article of clothing, the door shoots open again and you fall off his lap and onto the matress. jaemin walks in, snickering at nothing and plops himself in between you on the bed, head falling onto haechan's shoulder.

"hi guys!" the tone of his voice gives away just how much he's drunk already, and you eye haechan over jaemin's mop of blue hair, pouting in disappointment.

a pounding head greets you in the morning and even though you and haechan both remember what had happened the night before, neither of you can stop blushing for long enough to bring it up. so you don't, the fear of ruining your friendship too great a risk for you.

it's a hot summer day and you meet haechan and jeno along with jaemin and renjun at the ice cream shop near your house. it's a brightly decorated new place that offers a mammoth selection of different toppings, which is partly the reason you get bullied when you choose an ice lolly instead. in your defense, it was boiling outside and ice cream is dehydrating.

haechan is cursing every god he knows of as you sit opposite him in the booth, lips wrapped so prettily around your ice lolly. he blinks harshly when you lick the side to stop the juice dripping onto your hand, still talking to renjun. in front of him sits the tub of ice cream he previously been so excited to try and yet now he can't seem to eat it, thoughts elsewhere.

in his head, he curses himself for thinking like this, for thinking about how amazing your lips would feel wrapped around his–

"dude are you okay? you're staring at your ice cream like it holds the secrets to the universe." jeno's laugh cuts through his mind and his cheeks burn. he nods wordlessly, searching for something, anything, else to think of, instead of the blood rushing straight to his dick.

later that same day, when he's back in his bedroom alone, you're the only thought that crosses his mind. he thinks about that night at lucas' party, how you had both been so ready to forget anything holding you back, he thinks about the car ride there, how cocky you had been when he got hard from you sitting on his lap. it was clear you felt the same way, at least, he hoped you did.

in your own bedroom, you're having a similar crisis to your best friend. it hadn't been easy to ignore to way he was staring at you earlier, you had even exaggerated your eating just to tease him. you wondered if he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. maybe you should ask. no, that was too risky. you needed something less obvious.

"you wanna come over to watch that new movie? i'm bored."

haehcan reads the words over and over again, trying to decipher any ulterior motives you might have, yet again that may just be him wishing for some. he takes a moment to reply, choosing his response carefully, even though he knew immediately he would be saying yes.

"sure, when?"

"tonight?"

once you had confirmed a meeting time, haechan had but two hours to compose himself. he didn't know what to expect, after all, you could have invited him over simply to watch the movie, however much he hoped that was only a cover. a cover for an empty apartment, and some suppressed desires.

when you open your front door, you're already worked up enough. it takes all the self restraint in you to not pounce on the boy in front of as soon as he steps into your hallway. he seems to be having a similar internal debate and you feel the air shift as he drops his bag next to your door, stepping towards you.

neither of you want to make the first move, the tension growing until you can’t stand in anymore, reaching towards him, knotting your fingers behind his neck and pulling him down to you. he closes the gap between you, lips smashing against yours in such desperation you would tease him if you didn’t feel the same way.

“where?” he mumbles against your lips, hands gripping up and down your sides.

“bedroom.” is all you reply before he wraps his arms around your waist, shuffling the both of you into your bedroom and shutting the door with his foot. he pushes you onto the bed and you let yourself fall, hair splaying out underneath you in a way he likes maybe too much.

his body follows yours and he slots between your legs perfectly, hands reclaiming their grip on your middle, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. wherever his fingers slide over, goosebumps rise in their wake, sending shivers through you at their coldness.

your lips return to his and you tilt his head up to deepen the kiss, only breaking away to press open-mouthed kisses to the space under his ear, relishing in the way his breathing hitches in his throat. the kisses trail down his neck to his collarbone, biting down before sucking the area into your mouth. haechan lets out a sinful moan that goes straight to your core.

as soon as you pull you lips away from his body he pulls your shirt over your head, cursing at the lack of underwear, gaze locking in on the swell of your breasts, nipples hard in the cold air. “you had such a hard time taking it off last time,” you reason into his ear, pulling the lobe into your mouth and pulling before continuing, “i thought i would save you the trouble.”

“fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” his words are silenced by the moan you let out when his fingers come to toy with your nipples, rolling one between his digits. you can’t help but arch into him, legs closing around the thigh spreading them apart. it’s clear you’re already so turned on that haechan almost pities you as you grind against his thigh. “so hot, and needy it seems.”

“haechan,” you moan, hands coming to tug on his own shirt, pulling the material over his head and throwing it somewhere else in the room. “i need you so bad.”

“i know, baby,” he cooes, dropping his mouth to envelope your nipple in between his lips, “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry, princess.” the filthful nature of his words make your body heat up, the coldness of fingers now toying with the waistline of your shorts so much more noticeable.

the shorts are removed quickly, your panties following quickly. before you can process what he’s doing, his fingers are spreading your lips apart, lips blowing on your clit to watch the way you clench around nothing. you shiver, hands moving to grip his hair.

after admiring your pussy for a moment, he licks a thick stripe from your hole to your clit, stopping to suck the bud into his mouth, hands coming to press you into the matress when you buck up into him. his tongue laps over your most sensitive spot and he rubs your wetness over his fingers before pushing one into you, moaning at the tightness of your walls. the vibrations of his moan travel straight through your clit and you let out a shameful whine.

after working his finger in you for a few moments, he adds a second, closely followed by a third as he continues his assault on your clit. your moans are loud and non-stop, only stopping to warn him how close you are.

“cum on my tongue, babygirl,” the dirty words dripping from his tongue push you over the edge and you let go with a cry, tugging on the strands of haechan’s hair so hard it nearly hurts him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all you can say as haechan makes his way back up your body, pressing his lips back to yours. on his tongue, you can taste the sweetness of your own cum and you move away from him only to tug his bottom lip in between your teeth, pulling then sucking on it to numb the pain.

you make quick work of his jeans, helping him out of them and chucking them to the floor, shortly followed by his own underwear. from his view, you look stunning, eyes hooded and blown out with lust, lips red and wet from kissing, bruised almost.

he doesn’t say anything as he lines himself up with your enterance, rocking his hips forwards and filling you completely. the pleasure is almost too much for you, still sensitive from your orgasm only minutes prior, eyes rolling back at the way he fills you so well. haechan’s head falls to your shoulder as he gives himself a moment to calm down, biting into your shoulder when he pulls out to the tip.

“you take me so well, baby,” the words are hot in your ear, his breath fanning down your neck, “look at you, all spread out for me.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself as he pushed back in, moaning into your shoulder at the feeling of you around him, tight, wet, hot. he can sense he won’t last long as he sets a fast pace, chasing his own high.

to make up for his fast-approaching orgasm, he takes your ankle into his hand, pulling your leg up to rest over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit every sweet spot possible. the feeling leaves you paralyzed in pleasure, unable to do anything but chant his name.

“i’m gonna cum,” you mumble against him, whining out when his thumb comes down to rub fast circles on your clit.

“fuck,” haechan’s eyes are screwed shut and the sight is so other-wordly beautiful it almost makes you tear up. “i’m cumming.”

his hips stutter and the feeling of his cum filling you, some leaking onto the tops of your thigs, pushes you over the edge. your back arches as you cum over his cock, his hips still easing the both of you through your highs.

when you’ve calmed down, chest heaving as the aftershocks of your second orgasm ripple through you, he pulls out, wincing at the first flicker of overstimulation. he turns and presses a gentle kiss to your ankle, rubbing the fingers of his other hand over your cheekbone, relishing the fucked out expression on your face. he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, so exhuasted underneath him, sweat glistening over your skin.

“that was–”

“long overdue.”

he laughs an agreement out, falling next to you on the bed and lacing your fingers together. “we should watch movies together more often.”

a/n: the only thing i have to say is yikes at this point.

#haechan imagines #haechan smut #nct imagines #nct smut #donghyuck imagines #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #nct x reader #nct fluff #donghyuck smut #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #bestfriends to lovers #nct bestfriends to lovers au #haechan bestfriends to lovers au #haechan #donghyuck #mark #jeno #renjun #jaemin #johnny #jaehyun #lucas