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miyacreampie · 3 years

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Lenny sensei's night class has begun!~♡

“Senpai~♡”

synopsis 💭;; Tanaka gets jealous bc some bitch talking to his man.

note 🖋️;; IT TOOK A WHOLE FUCKIN WEEK TO WRITE THIS. WHY DOES WORK ALWAYS PREVENT ME FROM DOING THE THINGS I LIKE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FU- by the way, ‘Isayama Misaki’ is based off of some asswipe I used to know- also, I ran out of ideas at the end, so it kinda cuts of lf at the good part. I apologize to the anon that requested this.

Requested by anon ♡

Male pronouns used

Tanaka wasn't a jealous man. Or at least he'd like to think so.

(Y/n) was pretty popular around campus, so it wasn't a surprise to see a few fangirls here or there. It kinda reminded him of Oikawa—except (Y/n) didn't exactly pay his fangirls any attention. (And he didn't have an ass as flat as printer paper.) But did that stop them from trying to get into his pants? No.

In all honesty, Ryu felt lucky that he had someone like (Y/n) as a boyfriend, although he didn't like the fangirls—who paid him no mind whenever they were together. It annoyed him that they kept surrounding (Y/n) who clearly wanted nothing to do with them, begging him for dates, one night stands, anything.

To say that Tanaka was mildly uncomfortable was an understatement.

🌇🌇

Today was a bit different. Instead of a crowd of women rushing towards (Y/n), it was just one—; Misaki Isayama. The woman (almost) every guy considered perfect. This was...manageable, but what did she want? Well—at least it was only one girl. He had only woken up a little over an hour ago, and wasn't exactly ready for his simps just yet.

“(L/n)-chan, can you help me study for the science exam that's coming up?”

“Just because you're my upperclassman, doesn't mean you can call me that.” (Y/n) said quietly, rubbing his eyes, then yawning. “I'm on my way to the lecture hall though, so maybe after that? I should be fully awake by then..”

Misaki smiled and nodded her head. “It's a date!”

“No. No it's not.”

🏙️🏙️

Tanaka let (Y/n) lean on him during the lecture. That turned into one sided cuddling from the sleepy man. Ryu thought it was cute how (Y/n) always clung to him when he was sleepy. He was a little sad when (Y/n) fully awoke, and let him go, but it was for the best.

“Oh, Ryu-san. I'm tutoring the rumored ‘perfect woman’, and it's gonna be awkward with just the two of us, so can y—”

“You headin to the library? I was on my way there anyway. I'll join ya.”

The (h/c) haired man nodded, and they both walked all the way to the other side of the schoolyard to the library building. Tanaka even held (Y/n)'s hand to flex on the girls they passed by. Some of the girls were noticeably annoyed or a little angry, which pleased him.

When they finally arrived, Misaki was standing by the door. Upon seeing Ryu, she scowled. But it was only for a second.

“Ah, (L/n)-kun..who's this?”

(Y/n) smiled, oblivious to Misaki and Tanaka glaring at each other. Needless to say, the intense atmosphere went right over his head. “This is my boyfriend..Tanaka. He'll be joining us if that's okay.”

“‘Perfect woman’ my ass..the only ‘perfect woman’ I know is Kiyoko-san.” Tanaka mumbled under his breath. (Y/n) may not have known, but Misaki and Tanaka were always competitive with each other. Other times he wouldn't have cared, but now that (Y/n) is what he's fighting for, he wasn't gonna back down.

“Oh, it's fine.” Misaki said through gritted teeth.

🏙️🏙️

Isayama and Tanaka were left sitting at a table alone, while (Y/n) searched for the science books. They sat in complete silence, but it was almost as if you could hear their thoughts—mentally arguing with one another.

(Y/n) returned with three books, seating himself between Isayama and Ryu. “Okay! Let's get started!”

***

As (Y/n) went on explaining the laws of physics (because Tetsurou used to tutor him), Misaki and Tanaka continued their epic staring battle. The battle ended once they noticed that (Y/n) had stopped talking. He was chewing his tongue in thought, trying to figure out how to pronounce a word.

Misaki didn't notice, but (Y/n) had gone from physics, to microbiology. In less than five minutes.

“Something wrong?”

“How do you say this word again..?” The (e/c) eyed man pointed to a bolded word in the textbook, leaning back a bit so the other two could see.

A suffocating silence reigned over the three of them, but only for about three seconds.

Isayama squinted a bit before she spoke. “Endothelial?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks, senpai.”

Isayama smiled smugly at Ryuunosuke. The said man had a visible tick mark (💢) on the side of his head, symbolizing his annoyance. Tanaka only wanted (Y/n) to call him ‘senpai’—even if they were the same age (if not, then (Y/n) might be older). It made him feel like he was a dependable upperclassman, maybe even a bit turned on in certain situations. But hearing (Y/n) call someone else senpai..made him a little sad.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. As Tanaka reached into his pocket to get his phone, he caught (Y/n) putting his own phone in his jacket pocket. Tanaka turned on his phone to see a message from (Y/n) in his recent notifications.

Pretty boy💖: Go to the bathroom. I'll join you later.

Although he was a bit confused, he got up from his chair. “‘M gonna go take a leak.” Ryu said as he started to make his way towards the men's restroom.

Almost five minutes pass before (Y/n) goes into the bathroom after Tanaka, telling Misaki that he was checking on him. As soon as (Y/n) had passed the first bathroom stall, he was yanked into the second one, the door locking almost immediately after it shut behind him. He wasn't given any time to react before he felt a familiar pair of soft lips violently smash against his own. (Not violent enough to make his mouth bleed or anything. Chill.)

A heated battle for dominance arose between the two, (Y/n) quickly taking the lead as he gently bit Ryu's lip.

They didn't want this to end, but eventually Tanaka had to break the kiss because he couldn't breathe. He stood there, breathless in his boyfriend's arms, not wanting (Y/n) to let go.

“Ryuunosuke..” Tanaka flinched upon his first name being said—even though (Y/n) said it many times before. His reaction brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face. “I love you~..” He said, drawing out the three words in a sing-song voice.

Ryu felt his legs getting weak, and held onto (Y/n) for dear life. (Somewhat out of fear that he might fall.) He wasn't actually feeling like this because of three words...right? “Babe..am I supposed to be kinda horny right now?” It was a bit of a strange question, but hey, it never hurts to ask.

(Y/n) chuckled. “Well, yeah. I might have to carry you out of here once we're done.” His warm smile from earlier didn't falter as he spoke.

‘How can he say something like that so casually? If I say something like that, I'd get d–’ Ryu's thoughts were snapped away when he felt his chest touch the stall divider and his pants being pulled down. He let out a soft moan as (Y/n) stroked him through his boxers.

🏙️

‘What the hell is taking them so long?!’ Isayama got up from where she sat, and went to the men's bathroom. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would see her going in. She opened the first stall's door. ‘If they ditched me, I swear to go–’

“W-Wait, (Y/n)!~ Haa!~♡”

“Geez senpai, you're so wet inside~..♡”

Misaki froze. She couldn't be sure that it was (Y/n) and Tanaka in there—but those were definitely Tanaka's pants hanging over the second stall's door. Now she felt more..curious than angry. Isayama slipped into the first stall, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her, and slowly locking it so it didn't make noise.

Ryu tried to keep his breathing steady as (Y/n) fucked him with his fingers—even though that did absolutely nothing to help his current situation. Hell, he couldn't even process words anymore. The only actual word he could say was his boyfriend's name. He eventually remembered how to speak after about two minutes of being finger-fucked.

He wanted to sound more demanding, but his voice came out more whiny than what he'd have liked it to. “Fuck me already..ya fuckin– Hng!~” It may have been that he couldn't process it, or that (Y/n) had moved at the speed of sound, but Tanaka wasn't able to register how fast (Y/n) pulled his fingers out, and shoved his cock into his still tight hole. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a choked whine.

“You were saying?~♡” (Y/n) asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Tanaka wasn't given a chance to answer due to (Y/n) ruthlessly fucking the poor man senseless. His loud whines and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, much to (Y/n)'s pleasure. He wanted everyone to know that he was a taken man. He wanted everyone on campus to hear Ryuunosuke's pleasurable cries.

Hearing the two men fucking in the next stall turned Isayama on to no end. (Even though it was more of (Y/n)'s voice that made her wet.) But she resisted touching herself because she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she masturbated to her rival getting fucked. (A kinda stupid reason, but okay.)

“Fu–fuck, (Y/n)!~ So good..it feels so good!~” Ryu babbled, the words almost incoherent as he attempted to push back against his boyfriend's cock. “More!~ Give me more!~♡” He begged, voice broken and choking on his own breath.

The (e/c) eyed man didn't say a word. As his senpai had politely asked of him, (Y/n) drove his cock so deep into Tanaka that the said man let out the loudest drawn out moan (Y/n) had ever heard from him. If it weren't for the cum spewing from the teary eyed man, (Y/n) would've thought he had hurt his lover. He wasn't entirely sure until he felt Ryu continue to push back against him, desperate for more friction.

“Aww..you're so cute when you act like a bitch in heat, senpai~..♡”

He only got a choked whine in response.

“I'm pretty close anyway..do you want it inside?~♡” (Y/n) asked, pulling the shaky man up to his chest. Again, only a whine. (Y/n) parted Ryu's lips with his fingers, those fingers soon being coated in saliva. “Use your words~..”

Finally, Tanaka spoke, despite his unintentional dry heaving. “Fuck me- please~..”

“As you wish~♡” (Y/n) almost whispered, gripping Tanaka's cock firmly, earning another broken moan from the said man. “You're the only person I'd fuck like this, you know that, right?” He said, as he rubbed the shorter man's stomach.

“Y-Yeah..that makes me happy~..”

Lmao this was like- 80% highschool drama (in a college setting), and the remaining 20% being me getting horny for no reason. Also, I'm aware this made no sense. None of the stuff I write makes sense. :)

The class session is now over!~♡

#tanaka x reader #tanaka x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #anime x male reader #m!reader #x male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #ryuunosuke x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously.

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

#mdzs #jiang yanli #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #initiative #the untamed #includes my medical HCs for JYL and NHS #but no actual medical incidents

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

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aromantic-enjolras · 2 years

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The Amis and preachers headcanons

I got accosted in the street the other day by a woman who wanted to ask me if “I believed in God”, and it got me thinking about what each of the Amis’ reactions to it would be. So here you have it, the Amis vs street preachers!

Enjolras goes for the throat. The second he understands more or less what their deal is, he starts ennumerating the ways their specific Church is negatively impacting people’s lives. LGBT+ rights, women’s rights, pedophilia scandals, colonialism... this guy knows more about the dirty deeds of your church that you even knew existed, and he will tell you all about them.

Combeferre uses them as a case study. He engages them in conversation because he loves trying to understand exactly what rethorical manipulation tricks they use and why, and oh, god, if they appear to be on the cospirationist side, then he has a field day. Feel lucky if he doesn’t take out a notebook to take notes.

Courfeyrac has too much raised-Christian queer trauma to find any amusement in engaging with people trying to tell him how awesome religion is. He brushes them off as quick as possible, because he doesn’t want to end up punching someone or bursting into tears.

Jehan just looks at them gently in the eyes for a moment and says “.... I’m Jewish.”

Bahorel has a tendency to defy them to duels. “If your god is so awesome, they’ll protect you, won’t they? Hey, if you beat me in a fair fight, I’ll go to your next meeting and be all ears, I promise!” They haven’t gotten anyone willing to fight them, they’re kind of sad about it.

Feuilly acts like he doesn’t speak French. It usually works quite well... at least, if you don’t count the one time where the preacher spoke Farsi. He wasn’t expecting that!!

Joly pretends to be really interested, and when they are getting really enthusiastic about finally recruiting someone, he starts dropping crumbs of his life choices: him being queer, and in a poly relationship, and working in abortions, and... It’s very funny to see them flounder to defend why he still can come to church, promise, while looking like they’re sucking on a lemon.

Bossuet asks them about their missionary actions, and if they have even one foot in Africa he calmly gives them a talk on colonialism and imperialism.

Grantaire uses his extensive Greek Mythology knowledge to pretend he’s a real-life worshipper of the Olympic Pantheon and he very earnestly tries to convert them back using their own techniques. Bossuet has a series of videos of preachers’ baffled responses, they’re some of the favourite content on his phone.

Cosette, having been raised by leftist new age Christian Valjean, calmly and gently destroys all their arguments using quotes from the Bible and her extensive theological knowledge.

And Marius just flounders around and listens to them politely because he’s too awkward to do otherwise. If it wasn’t for the Amis he would probably have ended in half a dozen sects, just because “they were nice, I can’t not go to the meeting!”

Hope you enjoyed this!

#Les Misérables #text posts #my posts #headcanons #my headcanons #long posts #Enjolras #Combeferre #Courfeyrac #Jehan Prouvaire #Bahorel #Feuilly #Joly #Bossuet #Grantaire #Cosette #Marius Pontmercy #religion

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 129: Pangea

cw: mentions homophobic slurs

It was their day off.

Their one day when they didn't have to work and their five year old was at the muggle nursery school. They often cleaned and did laundry on days like these, but they always made a point of spending some quality time together. Harry had realized shortly after they'd adopted Cassie that it really hurt their relationship not to have time they set aside for just the two of them.

Today they were headed to get some ice cream and talking about the slumber party they were going to be hosting in a few days and all of the arrangements that had to be made when Harry's mobile started to ring.

Draco watched curiously as Harry pulled it out of his pocket, "Hello?"

"Yes, hi, is this Mr. Potter Malfoy?" a woman asked.

He glanced at Draco and put the phone on speaker, "Yes, this is Harry."

"Hi," the woman said again, "This is Linda in the school office. We're going to need you to come pick Cassie up."

"What? Why?" Draco asked before Harry could reply. "Is everything alright?"

"Sorry, I have you on speaker so my husband could hear you."

The woman chuckled and Draco looked ready to reach through the screen and strangle her. "Everything's fine. She just had a little disagreement with one of the other students and is pretty upset. The head mistress will have a chat with you when you get here."

"The head mistress!" Draco hissed.

Harry laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Thanks for calling us. We'll be right in." He hung up and braced himself for the inevitable.

(Read more below the cut)

"What happened?" Draco asked immediately.

He rolled his eyes and turned around to walk back to their house so they could drive to school, "You heard what I heard," he said. "I don't know any more than you."

"Yes but you went to Muggle primary school!" he protested, walking quicker. "You should have some idea-"

"I don't."

"Do you think it was accidental magic?" Draco asked.

He shook his head. "That was not the sound of a call about accidental magic."

"Then what do you think she was fight about?"

"Draco, there are a thousand things to fight about. Muggle children are just as unpredictable as wizarding children." He reached over and took Draco's hand, "She's only five, how much trouble could she be in?"

----------

When they arrived Cassie was over talking to a different adult and the headmistress waved them in.

She seemed happy enough so Harry let her be and followed the headmistress in, Draco all but vibrating with nervous energy behind him.

"Mr. and Mr. Potter-Malfoy, thank you for coming."

"Harry and Draco are fine," he said.

"What happened?" Draco asked quickly.

Harry glanced at him, "Sorry. We've just never been called in before. Is Cassie in trouble?"

"This afternoon, Cassie told a story to her classmates about how the continents got separated."

"Gaia," Draco nodded. "It's one of her favorites, she likes to hear about how life thrives no matter what."

Harry took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Right," Headmistress Blake replied, "and that's great. Storytelling improves communication skills and it's great for students to share like that."

"So why are we here?" Draco asked.

"Jacob told her that Gaia wasn't real, that the whole story was made up, and tried to tell her about Pangea."

"Pangea?" Harry asked incredulously. "How old is this kid?"

She chuckled, "His parents are geologists."

"Still!" Harry said, "That's pretty advanced for a five year old." Draco looked completely befuddled as though he had no idea what they were talking about. "But I still don't understand why we're here."

"I'm getting to it," she said. "She tried to tell him that it was just a story that her father told her."

Draco nodded, "Should we not tell her stories like that?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"Not at all," she said, giving him a warm smile in an obvious attempt to diffuse his anxiety. "But Jacob called you a liar and used a bit of derogatory language."

Harry's entire body froze, "Excuse me?" He'd been hoping that she'd be in Hogwarts by the time other kids were old enough to understand the implications of having two dads. It wasn't a big deal in the wizarding world, but it mattered in the muggle world still.

Headmistress Blake nodded, "She told him it wasn't nice to talk about people that way and insisted that Draco wasn't a liar. When Jacob doubled down on the slurs, she punched him."

"Good." Harry covered his mouth, "Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry, it's just-"

"We have taught our daughter not to hit," Draco insisted, glaring at Harry. And while this was true, they had, it was only because Draco was already teaching her the words for jinxes that would be more effective. She was going to be a terror once she got her wand. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that I don't understand what sorts of slurs you're referring to."

The headmistress rubbed her eyebrow uncomfortably, "He called you poofs and said that fags can't be trusted," she said and Draco's jaw dropped, his hand clenching Harry's so hard that Harry was afraid he'd need a healing spell cast when this was over. "Other students overheard and told Miss Murray after the fact."

"We taught her not to hit," he said, "But we've also taught her that it's important to stand up for what is right," Harry said. "It sounds like she tried to use her words first and then when that didn't work she used a different means available to her."

"But the next step should have been talking to her teacher, not punching another child."

Harry nodded, "I can understand why you'd-"

"Excuse me, Harry," his husband interrupted, "But I can't," Draco said bluntly. "And here's why; we are raising our daughter to be strong and independent because Salazar knows that women are not taken seriously in this world. Teaching her now that there is someone to help her when she is being verbally assaulted will not help her when she is grown."

"Mr. Potter-Malfoy, I understand what you're saying but-"

Draco shook his head, "With all due respect, there is no but. If her teacher didn't notice that another child was shouting bigoted slurs at her because she has two fathers then no one was coming to her rescue."

The headmistress squared her shoulders, "Cassie's being suspended for two weeks."

"What?" Draco spat.

"We cannot set a precedent that allows for violence to be the answer."

"And what is Jacob's punishment?" Draco demanded.

She blinked at him, "He's got a broken nose."

"Setting aside that his actions still deserve a punishment from a source of authority so he doesn't continue to grow into a bigoted prick, let's just say for the sake of argument," Draco said, voice sharp as nails, "that she'd gone over and told Miss Murray about what he'd said what would his punishment have been?"

"He would to apologize," she replied.

"What? Just said he was 'sorry'?" he asked incredulously. "That's it?"

She nodded, "Yes. He's only five."

He turned to look at Harry completely outraged, "This whole school can fuck off," Draco said, standing from his chair and pointing at Harry, "I told you this was a bad idea."

Harry winced, he had in fact said this was not a great plan, just not for this reason.

"We'll be taking our daughter home today and she will not be coming back," he said. "And we will be telling this story to anyone who will listen."

"Mr-" she started, looking taken aback, since Draco had always been the polite one of the two of them.

"Oh, don't even start with me," he growled. "I run a very successful design business and while I do not understand how most of the social media works, I have someone who I pay to do it and she and I have been friends for a long time. Get ready to lose any family that you have that has a conscience, you can become the place for all backwards bigots." He started toward the door and Harry stood up.

"We'll sue you for slander," she said.

He looked over at her, completely unimpressed, "It's only slander if it's not true."

"It'll be your word against ours," she replied.

A pale eyebrow rose, "Yes it will. Lucky for me that I've recorded this entire lovely exchange," he said, twirling a pen that the Weasleys sold at the joke shop that did just that. "Feel free to contact our solicitor about anything else."

And with that he swanned out of the office.

Harry stared at her for a long moment, "Maybe you should consider educating your parents and students." Then he followed Draco out.

Draco was already squatting next to Cassie, murmuring softly to her, "yes, well done, my darling," he said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"He was really mean, papa," she murmured.

His husband nodded, "I know, love."

"Hey, bean," Harry said, ruffling Cassie's curls and bending over to kiss her temple. "Let's get out of here, yeah? Do you have all of your things?"

She held up her unicorn backpack and nodded.

Harry helped her get her backpack on and then they set off, each of them holding one of her hands.

Cassie chattered away about the rest of her day, not even mentioning her run in with Jacob again.

-------------

After they put Cassie to bed they came back downstairs and Harry collapsed onto Draco on the sofa, resting his head in his lap.

"Pansy says that story is spreading like wildfire."

"Really?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

"S'kinda sexy," he said.

Draco laughed, "Sorry?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "You getting all livid and protective. It was sexy."

His husband's fingers combed through his fringe, "I'll always fight for you, for her, and for us," he promised.

"I know," he replied. "You're a good man Draco Potter Malfoy."

"It's only going to get harder," Draco said.

"Maybe, but we'll look for a more inclusive nursery school-"

Draco shook his head, "I mean when she heads to Hogwarts."

"I don't think so. People don't care about a man marrying another man," he said.

"But they care about the savior marrying a death eater and then disappearing for almost a decade and a half." He sighed, "I just wanted her to start somewhere where my sins wouldn't burden her and here we ar-"

"Hey," Harry said, sitting up and stopping the words coming out of his mouth. "You are not a burden to her and our marriage isn't a sin that could ever burden her-"

"I didn't mean to imply that you-"

"Listen to me," Harry interrupted. "Draco, you are a good dad," he said as he cupped his cheeks in his palms. "You are a good husband and you are a good person. We are both lucky to have you."

"Harry," he murmured, eyes downcast.

"You are," he promised. "I love you and Cassie loves you. and we are so blessed to have you."

"I love you too," he said, "But this isn't the last bully-"

"I know," Harry assured. "And we'll always be here for her, yeah?

Draco took a deep breath before nodding. "Yes. You're right."

"Ooh," Harry replied, crawling over him and straddling his hips. "I love it when I get to be right."

His husband rolled his eyes, "Just kiss me already."

And of course Harry obliged him.

Life wasn't always easy or perfect but they always had each other and Cassie always had two dads who would go to the end of the earth for her.

----------------------

Day 128: Snake | Day 130: Forfeit

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #established relationship #married #parents #cw:mentions homophobic bigots

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lunnybunny12 · 3 years

Text

Sandor Clegane X Reader (Your secret sworn shield)

Thank you to @1ofjokersgoons for the request

A/N: here you go hope you enjoy it. This my mind to all kinds of places so sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Master list

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Your nose burned in the frigid air, and you squinted against the sun reflecting off of the armed men around you.

The cold wasn't something you were used to. Hells, you'd only ever seen snow twice in your life and you weren't exactly fond of it then either. Thankfully It was the summer when your father roped your family into his campaign across Westeros.

"You can always ride with your Mother of you're cold, princess, " Your father said in a mocking tone as he rode beside you.

"I'd rather lose a hand to frostbite," You chuckled, adjusting your position on the saddle.

You were the eldest of the Baratheon brood and the jewel of Roberts eye. Unlike your siblings, there was no mistaking you were your fathers daughter. You had the looks and grace of your mother, yes, but you also had the attitude, appetite for fighting and signature brown/black hair of a Baratheon.

" And father please don't call me princess. You know how much I hate it,"

"Ah but that's the issue young lady, you ARE a princess and I want you to act like one. When we're at home you can come on hunts and roam about all you like, but not here. At Winterfell you need to put on those dresses you hate so much and you will watch your tongue in front of the Starks. Am I clear?"

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Your father had been saying this for the past week in not no nice ways but you understood full well why. One reason being that he was the only one you'd listen to. The second was that since you were born a girl, the Iron throne could never be yours. Your place as the eldest princess was to be wedded off to whomever your father deemed worthy of you, and thankfully (since the king held you in such high regard) that day was long overdue.

"Fine... But I want Clegane."

"The Hound? What need do you have of him?"

"If you want me to be a lady I will, but if I get attacked I can't protect myself properly while wearing heels and a bloody corset. I need a shield."

Another chuckle left your father. This time it wasn't out of cheer it was more in amusement.

"Ay you have the mind of a Lannister"

"One of the few good things that family gave me," you smiled.

When you got to Winterfell later that day it was a relief, to say the least. As much as you enjoyed the outdoors and hunting around the red keep, the warmth the castle provided was a godsend. It seemed like everyone from the north had arrived to catch a glimpse of your family but it's not like it was hard to miss. Your mother and siblings wore the bold Lannister red and their heir shone as brightly as the gold they mined. Your uncle Jamie in the white armour of the kings guard and you in the Baratheon colours, sat on your horse, taking it all in.

As you were getting ready for the feast a knock was heard on your chamber door. An audible gasp was heard from your chamber made then they saw the hound lumber into the room and holt at seeing you.

You were stood there in a long, (Favourite colour) dress with long sleeves and a matching cloak. Your hair had been styled the northern way, simple yet elegant. The southern styles were too fiddly for your taste.

"Ladies, you are dismissed" you said.

The women immediately scurried out of the door and shut it behind them with a heavy thunk. You smiled as you watched the man search the room for any threats or anyone that could eavesdrop. When he deemed it safe he was the one that spoke first.

"You wanted me, you got me. For the whole week"

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, my love"

"It is if I can't keep my hands off of you" he growled and pulled your hips to kiss you roughly.

You were 10 when Joffrey was born and he was more of a disappointment to you than anything else. He was brash, rude, inconsiderate, boorish, egotistical and above all a coward. If someone. When he was younger hed always be at your heels, annoying you to no end and constantly tried to get you in trouble (The keyword being tried) and since Sandor's purpose was to protect the future king, he was with you too. You ended up becoming his babysitter and whenever you were training the boy would shout and say nasty thing to make you lose your concentration. One day you had, had enough of his heckles and asked him to spar with you. However, instead of being a man and doing it himself, he sent his dog to do it for him.

"Clegane isn't always going to be with you little brother and neither will anyone else if you don't lose that sour attitude. So be a man, and spar with me yourself."

It was the way you said it that shook Clegane. He expected you to lose your rag or just leave the training area all together but instead, you talked like you would a scared child. Calm and collected yet firm. As expected Joffery took the challenge, lost and then whined about it like the boy he was.

You parted from the kiss with a cheeky grin as you held his neck in your hands, making him shiver.

"You've controlled yourself before Sandor, and you can do it again,"

"You put far too much trust in me Princess"

"No Sandor I put all of my trust in you. and don't call me princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since the feast and you didn't like who you pretended to be. You didn't like the dress or hair or corset but it kept your parents off of your scent for a while. A couple of times you were able to sneak off with Sandor and do your own thing and since you were there to keep up appearances, you weren't missed.

One evening as you were walking across the courtyard, you heard a scuffle coming from behind the stables. You were met with a fully stocked armoury and training area. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons, from knives and slingshots to swards and axes. You reached your gloved hand towards a sword a sudden voice made you jump.

"Be careful, your grace. They're sharp"

It was one of the Stark boys. He was on the older side, about the same age as you may be a tad bit younger. Admittedly you'd been too caught up in being with Sandor that you hadn't taken the time to know your hosts.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, your grace,"

"Don't worry about it... um... sorry I'm so bad with names" You said to the black-haired boy.

"Robb Stark, your grace," He answered kissing your hand.

A deep growl came from behind you, and an amused smile crossed your face. Sandor knew full well the boy was just being polite but he felt protective of you regardless.

"and please be careful around the swords they are sharp. We can't have a lady hurting her self,"

The tone Robb used was like he was talking to a child that couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a toothpick. Sandor picked up on it too. He knew what you were going to do before you did.

From what the boy had said he wasn't aware of your training, nor your personality in general and a fake, sheepish, smile spread across your face.

"Well I have had a little bit of training in how to fight but since I came to Winterfell I've forgotten most of it... you look like you know a few things do you mind catching me up?" You said, acting naive and from the look Robb gave you, it worked like a charm.

Robb agreed to "help" you and took you into the training area. He introduced you to Theon Greyjoy and his half brother Jon Snow.

Sandor watched as you continued your act with an almost invisible smile. Whenever you were in the Red Keep you were a completely different person, you were you but god's did he find that facade entertaining.

By that point, Rob had shown you how to hold a sword, jab and do a couple of swings and before you knew it you were going to spar.

"Are you ready, your grace?"

"I'm a little scared" you answered in fake concern.

"Don't worry your highness, I'll take it easy on you"

You could hear the boys chuckle in the corner of the arena and you knew they were laughing at you... or at least Greyjoy was. Sandor had taken it upon himself to stand by the pair and tell them to hush and watch the show.

The second Robb called "go" you swiped his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his ass.

"Oh sorry," you snickered "I did tell you I had some training didn't I?"

The Stark stood up and brushed himself off. "Its alright princess, let's go again shall we?"

Almost immediately he lunged at you again, that time you blocked his sword with yours and then knocked him down.

Round after round Robb lost and each time your smile grew. By the tenth round, Robb had finished "Taking it easy" on you and you were completely fine with that, If he wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. It was all in good fun and after one more knockdown, Robb yielded.

"Nice skills Stark, your father should be proud" You said as you walked up to him and extended your hand to pull him up.

With a smirk, he grabbed your hand. "Likewise your majesty. Although you could have told me before I made a fool of myself"

"Aww and wheres the fun in that?" You said handing the boy the practice sword. "Its been a pleasure Lord Stark that was quite entertaining, but I must bid you good night."

As you walked to the exit of the arena you saw Theon and Jon looking at you gobsmacked.

"Have a good evening Gentlemen." you bowed to the 3 of them and they bowed back.

Many, hot, steamy, lustful kisses were exchanged that night. Not out of jealousy or anger or hatred, but out of pure infatuation. After a particularly long kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Do you know what you did today?"

"No."

"You made me fall in love with you,"

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor x reader #sandor clegane x you #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane deserves the world #the hound x reader

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soft-october-night · 3 years

Text

The Love Interests in the Works of Jane Austen: An Assessment

This is an "extremely scientific" and "thoroughly researched" ranking based on personality, money, family and connections, and is a bit of a blend between the book characterizations and the film characterizations (and is in no way only based on my own opinions). Here we go, grouped by book but not much else.

Edmund Bertram: absolute trash. His family has treated you unbelievably shitty since day one and not only has he BARELY noticed, he ALSO has treated you shitty. Will fall in love with someone beautiful and fun and when she dumps him will come crawling to you for a rebound. His passion for you is so lackluster that even the esteemed author who wrote about it barely spared a paragraph on your relationship. Has a job but only because his dad owns the land the church is built on. You’ll gain no connections or family by marrying him, since he’s literally your cousin. 0/10

Henry Crawford: There IS such thing as too much fun, and that is never clearer than in this man, who will try to seduce you as a game, freak out when his middling overtures don’t work and then try and seduce you “for really real” this time. You will definitely move up in the world if you marry him, and if you play your cards right it seems like his sister is also just REALLY into you, so see how that goes. Life will be pretty okay until you find him in bed with one (or more, who knows) of your relations. 3/10, 8/10 if you’re into that

John Willoughby: Will be like something out of a romance novel, you’re thinking he’s going to propose and then he just fucking ghosts you and embarrasses the fuck out of you at a party by acting like he doesn’t know you. Somehow marry him (congrats on the inheritance you must have, btw) and get ready to take a backseat to the whims of his aunt for as long as she lives. 1/10, at least you get to live in a nice house.

Edward Ferrars: Oh Edward. He’s a bit of a mess, isn’t he? Super kind, your family loves him, he made a bunch of stupid decisions in his youth that are coming back to bite him in the ass. He is loyal to an absolute fault, but you luck out when his fiance turns out to be a bit of a gold digger and dumps him when his mom disowns him. He doesn’t have a job and neither do you, but his family doesn’t wanna speak to him (lucky you!) and you’ll be happy and poor together if you two can work on your communication skills. 7/10.

Colonel Brandon: He’s got a nice house, the respect of his friends and the community, and he has a LOT of passion. He’ll give your sister’s penniless husband a job, dramatically rescue you from a rainstorm, make sure his dead girlfriend’s daughter is happy and taken care of even after your ex fucks HER over too, and is all around a pretty decent guy. Just. Uh. Maybe, kinda, sorta, needs to go after women his own age and is probably with you because you remind him of his dead girlfriend. 5/10 with the wildly inappropriate age gap, 9/10 without it.

Mr. Wickham: Please don’t. He’s a thirsty bitch who lives for drama and you think he’s fun until you find out he tried to sleep with one teenage girl and is making eyes at your fifteen year old sister behind your back. Marry him (through the grace of mysterious benefactors, cause he ain’t marrying anyone unless he’s paid the right price) and get ready for a life of being surrounded by military men in the north of England while your husband tries to fuck everything that moves. Work that out somehow with him and you might actually be happy. 0/10.

Mr. Bingley: He is a softboi who will do literally anything his friends tell him to do. He is SUPER rich, and marrying him will throw your sister’s into the path of other rich men and he is REALLY into you, but get ready to be sucking up to his sisters for literally the rest of your life. Unless he can ship Miss Bingley off to live with Mrs. Hurst, have fun trying to wage a war of barely concealed insults over the breakfast table every morning, and if you’re marrying Bingley I’m sorry but that is a war you just cannot win. He doesn’t have a job but he does have five thousand a year, and neither of you can manage money. You’ll love simply and deeply and be happy as any two can be. 8/10.

Mr. Collins: Last resort to rescue yourself from a life of being a burden to your parents until they die and then having to become a governess or something. Has a job but never shuts up about his boss. You will have to rearrange everything in your house according to his boss’ will. 2/10

Mr. Darcy: Is a anxious disaster who doesn’t know how to talk to girls at parties and needs to learn how say no to going out when he’s just not feeling it. He doesn’t have a job because he’s a landlord; he owns half of Derbyshire and has ten thousand a year, but turns out that all of that money and land can’t buy tact or charisma. Doesn’t know how to flirt and thinks he’s doing a great job (he’s not). He’ll propose to you out of the fucking blue one day by insulting literally everything about you, but don’t worry! Reading his letter unlocks Darcy 2.0. This patched version gives him humility, a personality, and he WILL gain the ability to rescue your family from utter ruin. Marry him and enjoy a life of luxury and witty ripostes, but beware! You ARE going to have to deal with Lady Catherine until the day she dies, not to mention Caroline Bingley’s barely concealed contempt every time you meet in polite company. Darcy 1.0 3/10, Darcy 2.0 8/10.

Captain Wentworth: Absolutely top tier. Has a job, has earned everything he has, including a fortune and the respect of his peers, superiors, and subordinates. His sister and her husband are practically the only happily older married couple you know, his friends are super fun and nice (even the dour one with all the poetry knows how to have a polite conversation). If you dumped him ten years ago on the advice of your almost comically shitty family yeah, he’s going to hold a grudge, but he WILL NEVER STOP LOVING YOU and the MOMENT he gets over his pride will do everything and anything in his power (including leaping the bounds of propriety!) to win you back. Based on his love, money, and connections you should RUN, not walk, into his arms TODAY and allow him to rescue you from your family and whisk you off to see the world on his ship, at least until Napoleon busts out of Elba. 12/10

Mr. Eliot: Will lose all your old schoolfriend’s husband’s money in a bad deal, has debts out the ass, might be trying to get with either you or the woman your dad has been flirting with for the last few years, you’re not sure. Is totally ruining the rekindling relationship you’re trying to get going with your far superior ex. He wants the land and title your dad has and will stop at nothing to get it. Marry him and you can move back into your old house (maybe? it’s a little unclear what with all the debts) but have every single cent your mother left you immediately put into some dumbass scheme. 1/10

Henry Tilney: another softboi who just wants to act in the school play while his dad and brother plan to ship him off to military school and berate him for not joining the football team. Bring him shopping with you to pick out dresses, spend long nights over tea chatting about books. Has a job, but again, only because his dad owns the land the church is on. Loves you even though you have some very strange ideas about his house, and will forgive you when he realizes you thought his dad either murdered or imprisoned his mom. If he can find the courage to tell his dad to fuck off and let him live his own life, expect a long, happy marriage of snuggling together in a window seat somewhere, sipping tea and reading. 9/10

John Thorpe: Trash bastard man. Peaked in whatever equivalent of high school he had. Shitty and rude to everyone, would post racist memes on facebook and start fights if he could, all while being shitty and manipulative and CREEPILY possessive of you. -2/10

Robert Martin: A sweet himbo farmer who just wants to love and worship you. He has a job, is pretty rich, and while his connections may not be above his class, he’s an earnest boy who wants to take care of you and be taken care of in turn. Marry him the first time, absolutely do NOT let your friend influence you against him, because who KNOWS if you will get a second proposal! (You will, he likes you THAT much.) Marry him and enjoy a sweet, simple life of exactly zero drama (unless your friend is around). 7/10

Mr. Elton: Trifling gold digging trash who doesn’t know what the word no means. Do not marry, unless you want to be censured by decent, hardworking people -1/10

Frank Churchill: Knows how to have fun, but you know there’s something more going on. He won’t let you see his letters, he sends out secret notes, then he smiles and tells you that everything is totally a okay. Another boy with ANOTHER overbearing aunt, only this one doesn’t know how to say no. Marry him if you’ve got the money, but he will always be longing after the poor girl next door that auntie wouldn’t let him married, and would have cheated on you already if she was into it. 3/10

Mr. Knightly: He’s your brother in law and you’ve known him almost your whole life, so that’s a little sus, but he is also the ONLY person in your entire life who knows how to tell you no (and you really, REALLY need to be told no sometimes.) He is extremely wealthy, but more importantly he’s kind and caring about people who are considered “beneath” him. He will break his weird no dancing rule to dance with your shy friend, he will ream you out for being shitty to unwed spinsters who value your opinion, and somehow has the correct read on everyone all the time. You will gain no connections by marrying him, since the two of you already have the exact same connections anyway, but the two of you should be content in a test of wills that will last a lifetime. You’ll be very happy as long as he doesn’t get super pedantic and start correcting you about everything. 7/10

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #persuasion #sense and sensibility #emma #mansfield park #northanger abbey #mr darcy #captain wentworth

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

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

519 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Coming out

Jiang Cheng is having a bad feeling about this dinner. It feels like his parents are working up to something and he just knows it will be bad.

There are way too many meaningful looks between his mother and father and Jiang Cheng resigns himself to being yelled at yet again. It wouldn’t be something new after all.

But it isn’t until the very end of the dinner that his mother decides to speak.

“You’re in a relationship,” she says and it’s not even a question.

Jiang Cheng presses his lips together. The less he gives them the less they can do to him or Nie Mingjue.

“You are in a relationship and you failed to introduce her to us,” his mother goes on, clearly not concerned with his lack of a reply. “You will bring her to the next dinner.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to tell her that it’s not actually a ‘her’ he’s dating and that he doesn’t appreciate her just ordering him around but his mother silences him with a look.

“That was not a suggestion,” she icily says and Jiang Fengmian sighs.

“Just do what your mother says,” he wearily tells him and Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw.

It would probably be better to come out to them now, but Jiang Cheng finds that he doesn’t want to. He will get yelled at, and he will be berated, and they will try to convince him that this is ruining the family and the company.

Jiang Cheng would really rather have Nie Mingjue at his side for that.

His parents don’t know how to behave in front of guests, after all, so the reaction will still be the same.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng grits out and is glad when that’s the last they speak until he is allowed to leave.

Jiang Cheng thinks about calling Nie Mingjue immediately after he leaves his parents’ house, but he finds that he would much rather tell him the bad news while he’s cuddled up to him.

He makes his way home as quick as he can. When he sees the light coming from the windows, a warm feeling washes over him, because it means Nie Mingjue is waiting for him like he always insists on doing when Jiang Cheng meets his parents.

“I’m back,” Jiang Cheng yells into the apartment as soon as he opens the door and he is immediately engulfed in a hug.

“Welcome back,” Nie Mingjue says into their kiss and Jiang Cheng is helpless against the smile that blooms on his face.

“Hi,” he whispers like the love-drunk fool he is, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to mind at all, because he meets him with a rather stupid smile himself.

“I missed you,” Nie Mingjue tells him, clearly completely unashamed and Jiang Cheng presses a little bit closer.

“Missed you, too,” he mumbles into his shoulder.

“How was it?” Nie Mingjue asks him as he guides him over to the couch, where he immediately pulls Jiang Cheng on top of himself.

This is exactly what Jiang Cheng was hoping for when he left his parents’ house and he lets out a content hum.

“Bad,” he still honestly says and melts when Nie Mingjue kisses the top of his head. “You’ll get to experience it next week,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Nie Mingjue tenses under him.

“You told them?”

“Nah.” Jiang Cheng wriggles around so he can sling his arms better around Nie Mingjue’s middle. “They know I’m dating. They expect to meet her next week.”

“Her,” Nie Mingjue repeats and he sounds really damn unhappy about it. “You didn’t tell them?”

“No. They are going to yell at me either way, and I would much rather have you at my side. That way you can also see that I’m not lying when I say they are the worst parents.”

“It’s not that I think you’re lying,” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“But you can’t understand or imagine,” he finishes for him. “I know, I know, but you’ll see. They are the worst.”

“They really shouldn’t be treating you like this,” Nie Mingjue vehemently says and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“No, they shouldn’t. Won’t stop them, though,” he mutters and rubs his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s chest like an overgrown cat. “And I’ll feel better if you’re there to hold my hand through it,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, sleep already tugging at him and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I will,” he promises him and that’s the last Jiang Cheng hears that evening.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng would really like to pretend that he doesn’t care about this at all and it’s not like he’s afraid of his parent’s reaction, but he’s still nervous; his heart is beating fast and his hand is sweaty in Nie Mingjue’s.

“We’ll go in, let them get it out of their system, hopefully enjoy the admittedly nice food, and then we get the hell out of there,” Jiang Cheng says, not for the first time and Nie Mingjue squeezes his hand.

“And then we’ll have a tub of ice cream at home,” he gives back, because he knows Jiang Cheng entirely too well and Jiang Cheng manages to smile at him.

“Deal,” he agrees and leans up for a kiss, which Nie Mingjue gives him very willingly.

“Just a fair warning,” Jiang Cheng says before he rings at the door. “There will be three stages to this.” He waits for Nie Mingjue’s raised eyebrow before he goes on, and Jiang Cheng has to bite back a small smile. “The first one will be confused politeness,” Jiang Cheng predicts. “Followed by a lot of them trying to guilt trip me over failing the family, before they will turn towards you and accuse you of trying to steal company secrets.”

“What the fuck,” Nie Mingjue mutters and Jiang Cheng reaches for his hand.

“I’m just telling you this now so I get to say ‘I told you so’ three times when we leave. But also because I want you to hold my hand through all of these stages.”

“Of course I will hold your hand through this,” Nie Mingjue says and raises their clasped hands to press a kiss to the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand. “But I really shouldn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jiang Cheng sighs out even though he shrugs. “But this is how this family works.”

“And I hate it,” Nie Mingjue grumbles, but he also nods at Jiang Cheng to ring at the door. “But we’ll do this.”

“Just—don’t come to my defence, okay?” Jiang Cheng looks pleadingly at Nie Mingjue. “It won’t help and I don’t actually want you to fight with them. I just want to get this behind me, so I never have to talk about this with them again. If you get into a fight over me I will never hear the end of it.”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem like he understands at all, but he still dutifully nods.

“Fine. But I am going to hate every second of it.”

“Deal,” Jiang Cheng agrees and then takes a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” Jiang Cheng mutters before he finally rings.

It feels like both him and Nie Mingjue are waiting with bathed breath for someone to open and Jiang Cheng straightens automatically when it finally happens.

“Mother,” he greets just as Nie Mingjue bows slightly in greeting as well.

“Madam Yu,” he says and Jiang Cheng watches how his mother musters Nie Mingjue up and down.

“Who are you?” she demands to know with a frown. “What is the meaning of this, Jiang Cheng? We specifically told you to bring your girlfriend.”

Here we go, Jiang Cheng thinks as he forces a smile on his face.

“You told me to bring whoever I am in a relationship with. You assumed it is a girl, which is wrong. So I brought who I am actually dating, which is Nie Mingjue.”

“I—see,” Madam Yu says and steps to the side. “Please come in then.”

Jiang Cheng looks over to Nie Mingjue with a look that already tells him ‘I told you so’ and Nie Mingjue squeezes his hand in reassurance.

Jiang Fengmian is seated at the table and he looks just as caught off guard as Madam Yu had, which almost causes Jiang Cheng to laugh right in his face.

“What is this?” Jiang Fengmian asks, his gaze on Nie Mingjue. “We were supposed to meet your girlfriend.”

“You’re supposed to meet my partner,” Jiang Cheng corrects. “This is him. Nie Mingjue.”

“Ah—I see,” Jiang Fengmian says though he still sounds unsure. “Like your business partner?” he then clarifies and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even try to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“No, father. My life partner. He’s my boyfriend. You know, like my girlfriend, just in male.”

“Ah,” Jiang Fengmian says yet again, and by now Jiang Cheng can tell that his mother is seething.

“This is not what we expected,” she says, still so painfully polite that Jiang Cheng cringes.

Nie Mingjue squeezes his hand and it’s enough to relax him again.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you ever asked,” Jiang Cheng gives back and sits down at the table, Nie Mingjue steady and reassuring at his side.

“Is this how you come out to us?” Madam Yu demands to know and Jiang Cheng squints over at Nie Mingjue, trying to get his thoughts across.

The first stage is done; now for the second one.

“I didn’t make any elaborate plans for coming out to you, if that is what you mean,” Jiang Cheng tells them with a shrug. “It just never came up before so I didn’t see why I should tell you.”

“You’re coming out to us as what, exactly?” Jiang Fengmian asks.

“As gay,” Jiang Cheng says and he is not really surprised by the icy silence that settles over the table.

“Gay,” his mother repeats and Jiang Cheng nods.

This is—well, not going to be fun, directly, but it’s certainly going to be interesting.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re exclusively into—” his father trails off as he eyes Nie Mingjue up and down.

“Men,” Jiang Cheng finishes for him. “Yes.”

“What about women?” Madam Yu asks him and Jiang Cheng gives her a tight smile.

“I’ll leave that one to Wei Wuxian, seeing as he is bisexual and I am homosexual,” Jiang Cheng says, and tries to breath a bit deeper when Nie Mingjue squeezes his hand.

“So you just decided you won’t give us any grandchildren.”

Madam Yu sounds honestly affronted, as if that could be the motivating thought for Jiang Cheng, who merely shrugs.

“Adoption is still a thing,” he casually says, but then he can’t help himself. “I mean look at Wei Wuxian.”

Madam Yu immediately turns towards Jiang Fengmian, who seems unable to make eye-contact with her, or anyone at the table for that matter.

“Yes, look at Wei Wuxian,” Madam Yu presses out and Jiang Fengmian flinches.

That reaction seems to be enough for Madam Yu for now because she turns back around to Jiang Cheng.

“That would still mean there is no legitimate heir.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng says because he couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.

Either he adopts a kid and they want to take over the company, or he’ll train someone else to do it.

If he even stays that long.

“Jiang Cheng, if you don’t have an heir, you’re ruining the family,” his father says and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“As if there’s anything left for me to ruin in this wretched family,” he mutters. “Maybe you can ask a-jie if she will give you an heir.”

“She renounced the family name when she married that Jin boy,” Madam Yu seethes and Jiang Cheng is still so damn proud of her for that.

“And good for her,” he says and looks over at Nie Mingjue who has thankfully stayed quiet the whole time so far, just like Jiang Cheng had asked him to though judging by how he is working his jaw he is not liking this at all.

“Do you want to adopt?” Jiang Cheng asks him, damn well knowing the answer, but he has to admit he’s enjoying aggravating his parents a little bit too much right now.

“It’s still too early to say that,” Nie Mingjue gives back as he shrugs. “But I think being an uncle is the cooler option.”

“Definitely,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile, because being Jin Ling’s uncle is the single best thing to ever happen to him.

“Oh, I see,” Madam Yu says suddenly and Jiang Cheng holds up three fingers under the table, only for Nie Mingjue to see.

“Are you deliberately trying to keep Jiang Cheng from having kids, because you want to ruin our company?” Madam Yu asks Nie Mingjue, and it’s the first time she addresses him directly.

“I—” Nie Mingjue starts but he doesn’t get far when Jiang Fengmian interrupts him.

“What was your name again?”

“Jesus Christ, you have dealt with him multiple times at work, so don’t even pretend to not know his name,” Jiang Cheng snaps out at him.

Jiang Fengmian had always spoken rather highly of Nie Mingjue before—he admired his work ethic and his clear stance on things—but of course he would conveniently forget all about that when he’s suddenly dealing with Nie Mingjue as Jiang Cheng’s boyfriend.

“Jiang Cheng!” Jiang Fengmian raises his voice like he only ever does when he thinks Jiang Cheng is being mean to him personally and for obviously no reason.

“You’re the heir of the company, you should at least pretend to have some manners.”

“For that I would have to learned some in the first place,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, thoroughly fed up with this whole evening. “And I’m the heir now? Funny, I thought Wei Wuxian was getting that position, seeing as he is the only one who gets any official training.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Madam Yu chimes in and Jiang Fengmian sinks deeper into his chair.

“It means that I am currently holding the position of a temp while Wei Wuxian accompanies father to all the official meetings. Mingjue has seen Wei Wuxian more times at work than me.”

“Are you trying to steal company secrets?” Jiang Fengmian tries to redirect the conversation but there is really no way this could be salvaged.

“In order to do that, I’d have to date Wei Wuxian, seeing as he is holding the more important position in the company,” Nie Mingjue calmly gives back and Jiang Cheng wants to kiss him.

And since they are already aggravating Jiang Cheng’s parents, he figures why not. So he simply leans over and presses a kiss to the corner of Nie Mingjue’s mouth.

“Jiang Cheng,” Jiang Fengmian snaps out, as if Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji don’t get up to more shit on a regular basis.

“What?” Jiang Cheng sweetly asks but of course his father only clenches his jaw and doesn’t say anything else. “Wei Wuxian can do it, but I can’t?”

“Those two things cannot be compared at all!”

“Of course they can’t be,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and drags Nie Mingjue up with him when he stands up. “I think it’s time to leave. You met my partner, so the reason for this dinner is over, right? Let’s not do it again anytime soon.”

“Jiang Cheng!” his mother calls after them but Jiang Cheng truly couldn’t care less.

And it seems like Nie Mingjue is right there with him, because he easily keeps step with him.

It’s only when the heavy door falls close behind them that Jiang Cheng relaxes.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue whispers out and Jiang Cheng laughs.

“I told you so. I told you so, I told you so, I told you so,” he chants, but he also leans up on his toes to pepper Nie Mingjue’s face with kisses. “Worst parents ever.”

“I didn’t quite believe you,” Nie Mingjue apologetically says, “but fuck, you’re right.”

“Let’s not have dinner here for a while, okay?” Jiang Cheng asks though he doubts his parents will invite him again in the foreseeable future.

“Deal,” Nie Mingjue agrees easily enough and then he smirks at him. “Dinner and a movie? Seeing as we didn’t actually get to eat anything?”

“You’re just starving,” Jiang Cheng accuses him, but having Nie Mingjue at his side like this, making jokes like always and pretending that nothing is different is doing wonders for him.

Jiang Cheng long ago learned to not care about what his parents say or do, but he can’t deny that there was the tiniest bit of worry that maybe Nie Mingjue will look differently at him now that he knows just how fucked up Jiang Cheng’s family is.

But now that Nie Mingjue looks with the same love as always at him, that tiny worry dies out.

~*~*~

“I want to come out to my father,” Nie Mingjue says apropos of nothing one evening and Jiang Cheng freezes.

“What?” He definitely needs Nie Mingjue to use more words than this, because this just doesn’t make sense. Especially not after the fiasco that was dinner with Jiang Cheng’s parents.

“I’m not technically out to my dad,” Nie Mingjue easily says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng simply stares at him.

He stares at him for long enough that Nie Mingjue feels the need to explain.

“I’m pretty sure he kind of figures that I’m not straight, but he tends to go with that until we explicitly tell him otherwise,” Nie Mingjue finally does explain. “And I just never did that. I would like to have you there, if that’s okay with you.”

“Don’t you think one disastrous coming-out dinner with the family is enough?” Jiang Cheng asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

He will say yes of course, simply because Nie Mingjue asked, but he really could do without that.

“Not everyone is like your parents. You’ll see, my heart. It will be a lot easier with my dad,” Nie Mingjue promises him and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“Fine, whatever,” he mumbles under his breath. “Take me to dinner then.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng didn’t think it to be possible, but he’s actually nervous. He thought he got over that long ago, because if his own parents can’t faze him then how should any other parent be able to do that, but it turns out he wants Nie Mingjue’s dad to like him.

Desperately so, actually, so this is kind of important.

“Relax,” Nie Mingjue tells him for the fifth time that evening and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “It will be fine.”

“I can’t quite see how that could be true,” Jiang Cheng grumbles but he leans into the contact when Nie Mingjue pulls him into his side.

“Just trust me. And let me say ‘I told you so’ at the end as well.”

“Ugh, fine.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “If it makes you happy.”

“It does,” Nie Mingjue agrees with a nod and after one more kiss he knocks at his father’s door.

It doesn’t take long for it to open and Jiang Cheng always thought that Nie Mingjue is huge, but it turns out his father is kind of bigger.

The fact that Nie Huaisang is so tiny and delicate is all the funnier now.

“Nie Gengxin,” Jiang Cheng greets him and is overly aware of how he is being mustered.

“You’re not a girl,” Nie Gengxin says after a long moment and Nie Mingjue snorts at Jiang Cheng’s side. “I mean, you don’t present as one. Do you prefer to be referred to as female?”

“Eh, no?” Jiang Cheng asks, completely taken off guard with this, but Nie Gengxin only smiles at him.

“So it’s not a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, huh?” he asks his son and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Surprise,” he weakly says, and Jiang Cheng has to press his lips together.

“Not as much as you think,” Nie Gengxin gives back. “But I’m glad you told me. Thank you,” he says as he clasps Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Well, and I guess thank you for trusting me with this, too, since you did kind of came out to me as well. Welcome to the family!” Nie Gengxin earnestly says and it’s enough to bring tears to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“I told you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers over, even as he pulls Jiang Cheng into a hug and Jiang Cheng has to cling to him for a few long moments.

Dinner after that only gets better and Jiang Cheng is not ashamed to admit that he feels wholly welcomed into the family there.

Especially not when Nie Mingjue keeps holding his hand all evening.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #coming out #hurt/comfort #madam yu and jfm are the worst #but we know that #nmj's father on the other hand #he's the best #fluff #acceptance

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simplee-dreaming · 3 years

Text

The Runner (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

A/N: THIS IS MY 50TH FIC WTF!! Ngl I'm not so confident about this one but that's just my anxiety being a demon. I hope you all like it.

Word count: 3823

Summary: With Darren being on the warpath, Chris takes great care of the reader...along with some friends.

-----------------------------------------

The next day you walked into work with a big smile on your face. Last night you shared food with Chris Evans, watched a film with Chris Evans, got into a tickle fight with Chris Evans and ended up being cuddled by Chris Evans. You were certainly on cloud nine right now.

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” a call came over the radio. You strode into the kitchen to make it but found another runner already on the case.

“Nevermind,” you thought to yourself. There’s no way you were gonna go the whole of today without seeing him anyway.

You turned on your heel to leave but walked straight into Darren.

“Oh, um, sorry, I-I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, sternly.

“Sorry,” you repeated.

“There’s a mess on the set, you need to clean it up before the next scene begins shooting,” he demanded. You looked at him.

“But, I’m not a cleaner?” You said, puzzled.

“You were perfectly happy to clean the set a few weeks back,” he said.

“Well yeah but-”

“No excuses, clean up that mess now,” he interrupted, marching out of the kitchen. You sighed but decided not to argue.

You went onto the set and helped the cleaners with the mess.

A few hours had passed and you were sitting on set filling out an accident form. Apparently, Sebastian Stan had slipped on set whilst filming and managed to cut his hand. Only a tiny cut, but any accident has to be filed. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to sit with Seb and fill it out but was given the details by his assistant, Jane.

You got up and walked into the set office, where all the paperwork was kept, and filed away the accident form. When you walked back onto the set, Darren was standing there staring at you. He lifted up his hand and ordered you to go over to him. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him.

“So what exactly did you do to clean the set earlier today?” He asked.

“I...I swept up the debris. I just cleared the mess,” you replied.

“You cleaned the floor, didn’t you?”

“I cleared it yeah but I-”

“You cleaned the floor and left it in a slippery state. No wonder Mr Stan slipped over,”

“No, but, I..I just cleared it! I never-”

“He could have broken a bone,”

“I didn’t clean it, I only swept!” You protested. Darren grunted at you and walked off, leaving you feeling deflated.

The rest of the day you were silent. You didn’t dare speak to anyone in case they thought the same as Darren. When your lunch break finally came around, you walked outside to the back of the studios and sat in a quiet corner where all you could hear was the wind sweeping through the trees and the birds singing. You finished your lunch in silence, a single tear escaping from your eye.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” said a familiar voice. You looked up to see Chris walking towards you. A smile involuntarily grew on your lips.

“Oh, hey!” You said, quickly wiping away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He asked, sitting on the bench next to you.

“No. No, I’m fine,” you replied.

“You have been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am, I promise. I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. Chris gently put his hand on top of yours.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly. You looked at him, then looked down and burst into tears. He pulled you in for a tight cuddle.

“It’s all my fault,” you sobbed into his chest.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seb. I made Seb slip. He’s hurt because of me,” you cried.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Chris asked, rubbing your arm.

“I cleaned the set earlier, I must’ve put something down because Seb slipped and cut himself and it’s my fault,”

“Seb didn’t slip?” Chris said, confused.

“What?”

“Seb didn’t slip, he tripped and fell over. That’s how he cut his hand, he grabbed onto a bit of the set for support and caught a sharp edge. He never slipped,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“So...so it wasn’t me?” You asked.

“Of course not, he’s just a clumsy idiot. The floor wasn’t slippery at all. Plus, he’s fine. Just got a big boy plaster on,” he chuckled.

“But...but Darren said-”

“What did Darren say?” Chris asked, more seriously.

“Darren said Seb slipped. And that it was my fault because I cleaned the set earlier but I didn’t remember actually putting any product down to clean and I thought I only swept the set which it seems is all I did and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, breathe. Darren told you this was your fault?” Chris asked. You nodded.

“Right, I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, standing up.

“No no please, he already hates me. If you say something then he’ll know I told on him and he’ll be even worse,” you begged.

“Y/N, he cannot treat you like this,”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” you lied.

“He made you cry, Y/N. That is not okay. I’m going to speak to him,” Chris said. He walked off and you ran after him. When you turned the corner, you both ran straight into Seb.

“Whoa Speedy Gonzales, slow down!” Seb said, catching you as you tripped over Chris’ foot.

“S-sorry,” you said. You looked up and suddenly registered who was in front of you.

“Oh god. Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Stan, I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay,” Chris said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him and took a few deep breaths.

“Ohh so you’re Y/N. Chris has been telling me all about you, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” Seb said, smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back. He looked at Chris.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see my assistant,” Chris said, sternly.

“Ah yes, ‘Divine Darren’,” Seb said, sarcastically. “More like Distasteful Darren.”

“Well, quite. He’s been so unpleasant to Y/N, so I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, he sounded very angry.

“Chris please, it will only make things worse,” you begged. Seb looked at your worried face and looked back at Chris.

“I think she’s right, Chris. At least wait a little bit until you’re calmer. Then I’ll come and back you up,” Seb said. Chris let out a sigh then looked at you. His face softened.

“Okay. But he’s not going to get away with this,” Chris said. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good lad,” Seb said, patting Chris’ shoulder. He then turned to you.

“So, you’re the reason our Chris was so chirpy this morning, eh?” He said. You blushed.

“W-well...I...um…” you stammered. What had Chris told Seb?

“Seb…” Chris warned.

“What? I’ve gotta be polite to your new tickle attacker!” Seb said.

“SEB!” Chris cried.

“Chris told me you used his weakness against him last night. Nice to have you on board Y/N,” Seb winked at you. You let out a nervous giggle, praying that Chris didn’t tell Seb that you shared the same weakness.

“Although, it seems you may struggle more. We can’t have someone who is equally as ticklish on the front line until he’s not strong enough to retaliate,” Seb said. He winked at you again and smirked.

Fuck. He knew.

“Anyway, gotta get ready for my next scene. Catch you both later,” Seb waved goodbye and walked off.

You turned to Chris and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You told him?” You asked.

“Ohh...yeah...yeah I did,” he said, giggling. You punched him again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just had a great night last night and couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“So did I,” you replied. He chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed in his arms until he squeezed your side.

“Hey!” You yelped.

“That was for punching me,” he said.

You sighed and walked back into the studios with him, ready to get back to work.

The day finally came to a close. Scenes were wrapping up shooting and members of the crew were packing up to go home. You had purposefully been avoiding Darren all day, terrified of what he may try and do next.

Chris has invited you to his caravan again for another movie night, so you decided to quickly clean up the kitchen area before you clocked out. You took the half-filled jug of coffee out of its hold and turned to pour it down the sink. But, as you turned, someone knocked into the back of you and you dropped the jug which smashed all over the floor.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Yelled Darren from behind you. You swiftly turned around.

No words came out of your mouth, just incoherent babbling.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve smashed the bloody jug you blundering idiot!” He yelled. You took a step backwards and slipped slightly on the spilt coffee, you held the kitchen side for support as tears leaked down your face.

“I-I didn’t mean….I never meant to...it was an accident!” You cried.

“You did that on purpose. You’ve been messing about ever since you started here. Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused?!”

You burst into tears, frightened of the man standing before you.

“Hey hey, back off!” A voice said behind Darren. He turned around slightly and there stood Scarlett and Lizzie, both with their arms folded.

“Did you see what she did? She broke the coffee jug!” Darren exclaimed, gesturing at you.

“Then buy another one,” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“Better yet, buy another one secretly and we won’t tell anyone that you purposely fell into her,” Lizzie said.

“What? I never fell into her! Stupid girl tripped over,” he said, a wobble in his voice. Both women titled their heads and raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“She dropped it all by herself! She’s caused nothing but havoc since she started,” he tried to explain but the girls were having none of it.

“Grrr. Out of my way,” Darren huffed. He pushed past Scarlett and Lizzie and marched off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lizzie asked, approaching you. You shook your head and burst into tears. Lizzie drew you in for a hug.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Scarlett asked.

“Y/N,” you responded, quietly.

“Oh goodness, you’re Y/N! Chris has mentioned you a few times today. He’s waiting for you, we'll take you to him,” said Lizzie.

“B-but the mess…” you stammered.

“Leave it, we’ll clean it up,” Scarlett said.

She and Lizzie each put an arm around you and guided you away from the kitchen. Chris was standing at the back of the studios, near the caravan park. His posture straightened up when he saw you, but his face grew more concerned as you approached.

“Oh my god, are you okay Y/N? What happened?” He asked. Scarlett looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

“No. No no. This wasn’t Darren again was it?!” He said, his voice getting louder. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Chris, he’s probably gone home by now,” Lizzie said. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“That little….he has no right treating you like his,” he said. You tilted your head down. He drew in a deep breath and took you from Scar and Lizzie, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he said, stroking your hair. You cried into his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Tell you what, Seb’s using the green room to relax in for a bit this evening. Shall we go and join him?” He asked.

“Will he mind?” You replied, lifting your head slightly.

“Not at all! We could have a group film night if you’re both up for it too?” Chris asked. Scarlett and Lizzie nodded. Chris put his arm around you and all four of you walked to the green room.

“Knock knock,” said Chris, entering the room. Seb was sat on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Seb asked, turning to greet you all. “Ooh more guests, this is exciting. What’s the occasion?”

“Another incident happened. We thought we could join you and watch a movie together?” Chris said.

“Why of course! The more the merrier!” Seb said. He shuffled up a bit on the sofa and Chris placed you between himself and Seb.

“I’m gonna go grab some food. Do you two mind helping me?” Chris said, gesturing at Lizzie and Scarlett. They both followed him out and into the kitchen area. Coffee and bits of jug were still splattered on the floor so Lizzie bent down to start cleaning it up.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Y/N was cleaning this area. She went to wash out the coffee jug and Darren purposely bumped into her so she dropped the jug and he had a proper go at her. She was terrified,” Scar informed him. He hung his head.

“I can’t let him get away with treating her like that,” he responded.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Lizzie asked, sweeping the floor.

“I don’t know yet. But he’s not getting away lightly,” Chris said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just putting on a brave face,” Scarlett said.

Chris, Scarlett and Lizzie finished cleaning the kitchen and grabbed some bags of popcorn to take back to the room. When they returned, they found you leaning forwards with your head in your hands and Seb rubbing your back.

“What’s happened??” Chris asked. He put down the popcorn and sat next to you, putting his arm around you.

“She keeps saying everything that happened today is her fault. I’ve told her it isn’t but she’s pretty shook up,” Seb whispered softly.

“Oh Y/N. Nothing that has happened is your fault! We’ve been through this my lovely,” Chris said, gently.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumbled.

“What? Chris said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you said, standing up from the sofa and heading for the door. Chris grabbed your arm.

“Whoa whoa whoa, steady on. Where are you going?”

“Darren was right. I have no right being here. I’m just a runner.”

Another tear fell down your face and Chris’ heart broke.

“Y/N, listen to me. Yes, you are a runner but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be here. Runners are an important asset to the studios, how else would I get my coffee?! Besides, you’re not just a runner. You’re incredible. You’re the first non-celebrity that hasn’t treated me like royalty and it’s a breath of fresh air,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really! Don’t want you bowing down to kiss my feet, they’re not that great,” he said. You gave a shy giggle.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. You happily accepted and relaxed slightly in his arms.

“Now then you, we’re gonna have a great movie night, yes?” He asked, you nodded. “Good, but I want you to be happy before we start. Where’s that smile?”

He had a hint of playfulness in his voice. You knew what was coming but didn’t want to fight it, so you buried your head further into his chest.

“Come on...where is it?” He teased. He started poking up and down your sides and you squirmed.

You murmured a giggle into his chest as he continued to poke you.

“Where’s that smile?” He teased. You giggled louder as the pokes turned into squeezes.

“Chrihihihis!” You squealed, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Where are you going?” He asked, bending his head slightly to look at you. His hands squeezed your sides and tickled your ribs, making you squeal. You put your hands on Chris’ stomach to push him away but decided to tickle his tummy instead.

“Hehey!” He yelped, stepping backwards and releasing you from his grip. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s how you wanna play…” he said. The playful tone in his voice made you giggle but also kicked in the instinct to turn on your heel and run.

Bad move.

Chris lunged at you, as you turned, and picked you up - spinning you in the air before lying you flat on the sofa. You shrieked.

“No Chris!” You pleaded as he sat next to you, trapping you between him and the back of the sofa. He cackled evilly and started squeezing your sides again. You shrieked and kicked your legs out.

Seb, Lizzie and Scar all shared a smile as they watched Chris tease you.

“Show me that smile,” he teased once more. You were going bright red in the face and tried to bat his hands away, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Chris, I think it may be in here,” Seb said. Before you realised what was about to happen, Seb had placed his fingers in the crook of your neck and started wiggling them.

“WAIHIHIHIT! You cried, not expecting Sebastian Stan to join in. You scrunched up your shoulders, trapping his hands in your neck, and shrieked.

“Wow, Chris, you’re right. She’s super ticklish!” He teased. Your face turned ruby red as you twisted and turned on the sofa.

“NOHO I’M NOHOHOT!” You cried.

“Oh yes you are,” Seb said. His hands trailed down to underneath you and started tickling your shoulder blades. The noise you made was different to any other you had ever made before.

“Whoa, I think you found a bad spot,” Chris laughed. He started squeezing and spider tickling your tummy and you let out a scream. You kicked your legs frantically as your arms waved around trying to stop the attacks.

“Girls, we need your help!” Seb said. Scarlett and Lizzie looked at each other and laughed. Scarlett got up and approached you.

She positioned herself next to Chris and gently fluttered her fingers over your kicking feet. No one had you pinned so you were free to twist and kick as much as you liked, but as soon as you twisted from one pair of hands you fell right into another.

“Does this tickle Y/N? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” Chris teased, now spider tickling your waistline.

“STOHOHOHP SAHAHAYING THAT!” You cried.

“Oh but you’re so fun to tease!” Chris said, laughing evilly.

Lizzie looked over at Chris and narrowed her eyes. Then, a thought hit her. She slowly crept up behind Chris before lunging at him, sitting on top of him so he was pinned to the floor. She wasted no time in shoving her hands under his armpits and wiggling her fingers.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! AHAHAHAHA!” Chris yelled, taken aback by the sudden attack.

Seb and Scarlett instantly stopped tickling you so you could all watch the action unfold.

“Does this tickle Chris? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” She cooed, repeating his own teases. He thrashed below her and boomed out a laugh. You started giggling too.

“I’ve got him, Y/N. Come and get your own back,” she said, turning her head to wink at you. You jumped off the sofa and basically slid over to him.

“Do any of you know his worst spot?” You asked.

“His ears. Get the spot just behind the right one and flutter your fingers over the top of his left one and you’ll have him a babbling mess below you,” Seb said...a little too quickly.

You grinned at him. Lizzie stopped tickling but kept her hands positioned under his arms. You followed Seb’s instructions and, before you knew it, Chris was a babbling mess on the floor. A mix of squeals, giggles and high pitched laughs came out of him as he twisted his head from side to side. Every time he tried to lift his arms to stop you, Lizzie would tickle his armpits and he’d slam them back down again.

“Cootchie cootchie coo, Chris…” you teased. Your heart did somersaults at the sound of his precious laugh.

All of a sudden, Chris let out a booming laugh and jolted his body. You looked up and found Seb trapping one of Chris’ feet with one hand and using the other to scrape up and down his sole. Seb looked at you.

“His feet are his second worst,” he informed you.

You and Lizzie were too distracted by Seb tickling Chris’ foot that neither of you noticed him lifting up his arms. Because you were sitting right next to him, he managed to grab you and pull you over his torso. He held you close to him as his hand trailed up and down your back and sides. You shrieked loudly and bucked your body.

“CHRIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHO!” You cried.

Seb stopped tickling Chris and instead made a lunge for your foot, trapping it in the same way and raking his fingers up and down it. You burst into a loud laughter.

“Oh dear, we really are trapped now aren’t we?” Scarlett teased. She shoved her hands between you and Chris and started tickling both your tummies at the same time. You both shrieked loudly. Lizzie giggled and decided to join Chris in tickling your sides and back. Chris was giggling below you but you were screaming and shrieking before falling into a silent laughter. You hid your face in Chris’ torso and jolted your whole body. They all took this as the sign to stop.

You lay on top of Chris, getting your breath back. He was still giggling which made you giggle more.

“You okay?” He asked, now stroking your hair. You nodded and placed your head on his chest.

“You passed the initiation,” Seb said. You lifted your head and looked at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You passed the initiation. You got through our torture without murdering us,” he laughed. You got off of Chris and sat on the floor, still giggling. Chris sat up too.

“You’re officially one of us now. That will never change,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. “And tomorrow, I promise, I will sort out this mess. Darren will never treat you so badly again, I promise.”

“Just don’t ever clean the set again,” Seb teased. You scoffed and playfully punched him, making him laugh.

Seb, Scarlett and Lizzie shuffled forward and all four cast members engulfed you in a massive hug. You felt so safe and secure, all of your worries left you for that evening.

Tomorrow is a new day.

#tickle fic #avengers cast tickle fic

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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ethanesimp · 3 years

Text

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove @superchrystaldrug @reputationdamiano

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand.

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file.

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it.

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved.

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working.

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not.

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed.

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you.

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?”

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead.

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand.

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints.

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent.

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?”

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.”

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—”

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife.

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves.

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter.

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel.

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind.

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again.

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

—

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it.

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning.

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting.

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

—

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him…

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

—

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot.

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly.

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe.

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright.

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left.

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

—

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

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