#I hope to God that his brothers find him and figure out how to undo what Bruce has done omg

[cluescorner]

Thanks so much for the recap because like...I have been actively keeping up with this bullshit (/pos AND /neg) and I literally forgot about Tim getting shot in the neck then fucking walking it off.

What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

[radiocrypt-id]

I got- I can't!

Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.

Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.

You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.

You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.

You're just a child.

You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.

You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.

You're 17. You wish you were good enough.

[lexluvswriting]

✎ First Meeting.

☆ SFW drabbles ☆

-> Pairing: God of Stories!Loki Laufeyson x Gen-Z reader!

-> (CW): loki is god of stories in this!! gender neutral, non-specified identity reader, fluff, slight flirting? kinda. i love him sm (T-T)

-> (TW): none.

W/C: 1.4k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: AHH, here's the post, oh god. based off of THIS ASK !!! i'd like to preface by saying yes, this will be a bit ooc for him. This is MCU, Loki Series!Loki, who is the God of Stories! I'd like to hope that he still stays mischevious still, so I tried to keep a bit of both personalities!! Also added some backstory for context !!

Uni was hard. Your lectures were hitting that stage where content was 'less fun' and more soul-suckingly 'boring'. Your latest assignment had thrown a spanner in the works of your mental sanity, and you were a few more minor inconveniences away from committing some sort of crime.

Kidding. Kinda.

What you hadn't expected was to be blitzed into some sort of gap in space and time after your friend begged you to come assist them with some help on their Physics experiment. "Science is fun", they said. "Helping your friends is the kind thing to do", they said.

Not when their janky little machine blasts you into a pocket that seemed to avoid space and time completely.

The Avengers had solved everything. Thanos was dead, the snap was unsnapped, this shouldn't be happening anymore... right? You were terrified, clutching your bag like a safety blanket as you stood on some invisible force, watching the space around you seem to shift between an endless loop of different colours and morph- the glittery mass swirling like liquid stars- or like a bad trip.

"What the fuck..." You whisper, prepared to scream, cry, throw up or lie down and die. Probably all in some order.

"You, there. How did you find this place?"

A voice that seemed to come from all corners of wherever you were, and also nowhere at once, sounded out. You flinched, whipping around again to find a strange handsome man sitting on some strange tree-like throne, wielding greenish vines that seemed to appear around you, branching out everywhere and whatnot.

"Are you speaking to... me?" You point feebly at yourself, amazed you're still conscious at this point.

"No, I'm referring to the nothingness of space and time. Yes, I mean you, mortal. Who are you, and how did you enter this place?"

His green eyes bore into yours, and bile rose in your throat. His tone made you falter, like a deer in headlights as your brain conveniently decided to shut down and restart. He couldn't be real. Why was he here?

"Oh my God... you're-" Your revelation seemed to amuse him as his eyes crinkled knowingly, the corners of his lips twitching up.

"Yes, little one. Loki, formerly the God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. Now, I appear before you as the God of Stories."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

꩜ Telling him about your world! :

After you both get over the fact that you both are coexisting somehow- Loki is still partially convinced you're part of something called the T.V.A or whatever- you end up sitting down on one of the roots of the tree, blinking up at him like he was some immaculate, divine figure. He so totally is. You figure the best thing to do is wait for your friend to undo what they did, so you end up telling him about your world. He's familiar with Thanos, and the timeline of his so called 'death'. He asks about his brother, and you watch him with a deep sympathy that feels almost useless. It's quiet for a long time, before you offer to show him a picture.

"Would wi-fi even work here?"

"Doesn't your device contain it already?"

You blink up at him, supressing a pained sigh.

"... Are you kidding, or... ?"

He, with a dry hum of amusement, nods for you to unlock your phone, and strangely enough it works. You want to ask how? but his look tells you that it would probably hurt your brain. So you relent, and show him pictures of his brother most recently from social media news pages.

"Everyone is kinda... gone now. I mean- ever since Ironman..." You trailed off, and he nodded, his gaze softening slightly as he beheld his brother. You felt almost awkward, wanting to give him a moment to process this before-

"He looks fat."

"Jesus-"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

♫ Telling Loki about music, and educating him on artists:

You take it upon yourself to show this man music, after you had shown him the internet of your world, catching him up to date with all the important news and such. You made it a very good point not to scroll too far down in case he noticed something titled 'HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES AND WET DREAMS I HAVE ABOUT THE SEXY, MISCHEVIOUS LOKI LAUFEYSON-', instead questioning him on his music and artist knowledge. Sylvie had introduced him to what you both recognised as 70's and 80's hits, and you sent a silent thanks to whoever 'Sylvie' was. But you decided to catch him up on some of your personal faves- Mitski- neither of you spoke for a bit after he accidentally pressed 'Class of 2013', Mac De Marco, Lana and most importantly:

"Laufey. She's Icelandic and Chinese- and it's pronounced LAY-VAY. Like, Laufey. I just thought it was funny, cause... Loki Laufeyson, and Lau-"

He's already ogling you like a three eyed, two head sprouting, bat-winged monstrosity, but as soon as he hears the name, he shakes his head with an irritated grunt,

"There is no relation, nor will there ever be a relation. I am the God of Stories. I hold multiversal timelines between my fingers- I am seated at the throne of destiny. And you're asking me about some mortal like I'm supposed to... care?"

"Um. Okay." You smacked your lips together, cocking your head to the side with a hand on your chest as you search internally to find the words for a response without losing your life to a multiversal deity.

"So... I don't like that tone, first of all. Second of all, I just want you to listen- Just listen to her-"

Don't you notice how

I get quiet when there's no one else around?

Me and you, an awkward silence.

Don't you dare look at me that way-

You fed him her melodic song, your eyebrows raised in disbelief that he would be so dismissive after you brought out the big guns, and he listened to it, feeling oddly stimulated from this entire encounter. He was handsome, of course. But more handsome when he was quiet, when you could see his brain shifting and while you could see the way his eyes flit around in microscopic shifts, processing the sounds as they progressed.

Soon it finished, and he watched you, glancing down at the small phone, before glancing at you again, trying to find a response that didn't make him seem like some desperate lonely hermit.

"She isn't bad, for a Laufey anyway."

"Dude-"

"God."

"God-"

...

"How would I obtain this to have? Just... playing idly."

The smile that split your face was almost creepy with how wide it was, and he had to squint, looking away from the radiance and delight you emit.

"She's got more if you wanna listen."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

✮ Showing Loki diverse ways to compliment each other! aka. sending him into cardiac arrest: (one suggestive line!)

People die, and habits die harder. But nothing could remove the pride and preening personality this God has. He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed some of the 'links' and images and strange looking messages regarding his name and face that were almost cleverly hidden on the page you showed him, and he relaxed knowing that people still worshipped him in other timelines. As they should. But nothing could prepare him for his first edit.

"What does that say- No, no don't show me, I just want to make sure you understand what that means."

Have you ever wanted to make a God go absolutely insane because of you? Well you'd be in luck. The wrinkle that creased his smooth forehead was not small by any means, neither is something else he carries, and he had to take a moment to process what he had just heard you say.

"It's a term of- it's a phrase of... endearment!"

"'We're going at it until Ragnarok happens?'" He echoed, voice almost hitching as he tried to maintain control of his facial expressions. How much time had passed? A few seconds? A few days? He was starting to wonder how much more of you he could take. We'll get into that again, later.

"'Till I remember the veins and twitch patterns?!'"

"Okay well, you didn't need to read that one-"

He scanned the comments again, the screen hurting his eyes- and his heart, but he did it anyway. Deep, deep down- in a small, lonely part that wished he wasn't stuck on a throne of Yggdrasil, he felt something of amusement. A peacock showing off his feathers.

A small, impish smiled curled on his lips as he sat back in his throne, exhaling slowly, thinking. Calculating. Watching the way your eyes greedily absorbed the sparse clips of him in New York and Germany.

"So... one billion people enjoy me saying 'kneel'?"

"Oh, don't start-"

"I'm simply thinking, mortal. Don't fret your pretty little head over it."

...

"You think it's pretty?"

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: @jaguarthecat i finally published. i kept coming back to your ask, and i realised i might as well put something out there cause like, might randomly die tomorrow so why shy from it.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

brother i swear to you your saul/reader fics got me creaming for my life I've never been fed this well ever in my entire life. may i make a request/suggestion? I'd kill for you to write some overstimulation involving one of those remote controlled vibrators while on working hours, that shit would slap so hard from you omfg

hi!!! hope ur ok w/ a drabble for now :3

You swore one of these days you were gonna look for a new job. 

Today was not that day. You had left work yesterday carrying a delicately wrapped gift box, courtesy of your boss, who told you very specifically not to open it until you were home. And that you were to come in to work the next day wearing it. You remembered being flattered by his generosity, excited all the way home about what it could’ve possibly been. 

And then you opened the box and remembered your boss was a gigantic pervert. 

Still, you figured you didn’t fare much better, especially since you were the one standing outside your job with a vibrator inside you. It was off, thank god. You considered it a stroke of luck when you realized you had no idea how to turn it on. You fished your phone out of your pocket, about to text him that you were outside, when the front door swung open.

Saul Goodman was there to greet you with a shit-eating grin. “Right on time, kid! Come on in.” He was as giddy as a kid on Christmas, and it was fucking irritating. You thought about the pros and cons of cold-cocking him in his smug face, but figured great sex and steady income were worthwhile rewards of being his sexual guinea pig.

He pushed open the doors to his office, beckoning you inside. When you entered, he grabbed your wrist and pinned you to one of the columns. You were understandably caught off guard, which he saw as the perfect opportunity to start kissing and sucking your neck. His other hand wasted no time in getting to your crotch. He pulled away to ask you, “So… did you follow my instructions?”

You yelped, your mind racing to find the answer to his question. “Yes, sir. It’s… it’s inside.”

He pressed two fingers down hard against your clothed sex, searching for the toy. He gasped in delight when he felt it. “Good boy. Can I see?” He asked, letting go of you and stepping back.

He had you trained so perfectly. The second his hands left your body, you were scrambling to undo your belt. You slid your pants off and braced yourself against the marble before spreading your legs. Between them was a hot pink vibrator nestled inside you, just barely touching you where you needed it.

Saul gave a wolf whistle at the sight of you. “God, I knew this was a good idea. Though, just one more thing…” He reached into his pocket and grabbed some small plastic thing. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but you figured it out seconds later.

He clicked a button and the device ignited inside you. Your knees buckled and you grabbed the column for support, already a whimpering, disheveled mess. Just how he liked you. He stepped closer to you, forcing his leg in between yours to keep you upright, and grabbed your chin.

“Look at me,” The command made you feel even weaker than you already were, “Here’s how today’s gonna go. We’re gonna have all our scheduled meetings in the morning. Then we break for lunch, and do walk-ins after. Regular day, right? Except you’re gonna keep that toy inside you the whole time. And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, when I say it. Understand?”

You nodded frantically. Verbal confirmation would have taken too much brain power.

Saul was not impressed. You knew he expected a verbal answer. “Hm. You wanna act like a brat today? Fine,” He tapped the up button on the remote a few times, and the vibrations grew stronger. You shrieked, back arching, knees buckling, your body practically liquifying but for his firm grip keeping you up. “Act like a brat all you want. But I’m in control here, and I’m not gonna let you forget it.” He turned the vibrator up to its max level. “Now I’m gonna ask you again. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” You cried, already on the precipice of an orgasm not 5 minutes into your shift. “Yes, fuck! Yes, Mr. Goodman! I understand!”

“Good boy,” Saul answered, clicking the vibrator off and letting you go. You whined at the lack of closure. He’d snuffed out your flame before it barely got to burn. “Get dressed. First client is gonna be here in a minute.”

You couldn’t even do that in peace. When you bent over to pick up your clothes, Saul flicked the vibrator on and off a few times just to watch your body jolt in response, laughing to himself each time he did it.

This was gonna be a long day.

[blorbologist]

33, Vax and Percy (gen), please? (also your writing is excellent)

33. Power Word Pain.

"You speak a word of power that causes waves of intense pain to assail one creature you can see within range. If the target has 100 hit points or fewer, it is subject to crippling pain. Otherwise, the spell has no effect on it. A target is also unaffected if it is immune to being charmed.

While the target is affected by crippling pain, any speed it has can be no higher than 10 feet. The target also has disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws, other than Constitution saving throws. Finally, if the target tries to cast a spell, it must first succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or the casting fails and the spell is wasted."

[This one hardly followed the prompt - sorry! My main thought was either Power Word Pain killed him, and the fact that these words hurt.]

[TW: Temporary character death]

It’s no end. This much Percival knows. 

It was just a little outing to stay sharp - perhaps spurred on by an offhand comment about his aim being off from Scanlan. 

Pike is here - there - besides. And gods know Vex’ahlia will not let him leave so soon. Especially not with a fourth child on the way; he wouldn’t dream of it. Dearly, he hopes this does not give her a fright so early.

Well. Either way, he is coming back. He knows this. It isn’t his time. 

Which is why the sight (you are dead, fool, you can’t see anything) the presence of a figure in this not-space is startling. And, immediately, terrifying. He knows well he deserves death, yes, but he won’t go quietly this time, not with Vex - 

“I do not accept this.”

“At ease, Lord de Rolo,” rasps the quiet. 

Oh. Oh dear, that’s worse. 

“I hope,” says Percival, “you are not here to escort me to your Matron. Your sister would not be happy.”

What should be a little shake of his head is made ample. Excessive, even: the beaked mask swings wide, his hair echoes the movement like a snake. 

“No - merely here to calm you,” says the Champion of Ravens. “There is nothing to fear, contrary to your… ordeals prior.”

Yes, he remembers. Smoke, Percy learned, can have teeth and claws. It can chew, if you give it enough to work with. It’s not particularly good at it - which mattered little, when Orthax had an eternity ahead to eat him alive. 

Percy shivers. The feathers of - his - mantle do, too. A bird, bristling against the cold. 

“She wants to name one after you,” Percival offers, suddenly. On impulse, because who knows how much time they have. Pike usually works quickly. Then again, what is time to a dead brain? He’d have to look into it later. (There will be a later.) 

He swallows. “I - I don’t think it’s a good idea. For her, or for Keyleth.” Scrutinizing the Champion, he finds - there - a jerk, a puppet string pulled too quickly, at the name. “But I want you to know she wants, so badly.”

“Are they well?”

That’s a relief, that he cares to ask. Whatever he is, what’s left of him, or diluted, or parceled out.

“Yes,” Percy replies. The growths from the shoulder are bleached antler one moment, tender enoki another. “As well as I can keep them. They can laugh about your stupid jokes again, you know. Vesper thinks a few are a riot.”

There’s a pause he hastens to fill. Usually he would consider his words more carefully, but he lets his mouth run, lead by what his heart has wondered countless sleepless nights: “Is there - could there be any way, to undo this now? Any true hope? I couldn’t give them false hope, but I have to know. If you want to come back -”

“Wanting is… beyond me.” Said slowly, because of course he has all the time in the world. “Because it has not been long enough to miss my love, my sister - you, my brother.” 

“I will see you soon. I will see them all soon. And yet not for ages yet. There are countless more for me to guide, and yet I recall their faces clear as the last.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Indeed.”

There’s a tug, where his heart should be. Percy glances down to behold gold - a thread, so beautiful it should inspire tears. He hadn’t - hadn’t expected to see it whole, unfrayed. 

Apparently he is wanted elsewhere. Good. Good.

It feels like a waste. All this - whatever earful he will be in for when he returns, the stress to his friends and wife, the tailoring on his fucking coat - and he can hardly come away with reassurance. A cheap death - at least with his last he helped kill a dragon. At least with his first he learned to forgive. 

He sighs. Glances about, in the vain hope that the Matron watches him. There is no seamstress working at his thread - only Pike, he knows, on the other side. Only everyone but this man, whoever he still is.

“I do not accept this.”

The Champion smiles. “Still sticking to indignant and irritated, Percival?”

Percy barks out a laugh. “Oh, screw you, Vax. That was a callback, you shit.”

[isleofdarkness]

i would give you a good sized acorn that i turned into a jar for maverick meeting fgm. and 3 crochet creatures for the final boat scene. you brain continues to amaze and astonish and the window your building has the most intricate colors.

Well, I'm gonna warn you about some major spoilers ahead of time, but here you go. Enjoy (evilly grinning)

She knew Riah had been dying. She'd felt it for weeks, the growing sense of foreboding deep in her gut telling her everything Auradon refused to admit about her little brother's condition. She'd felt him nearly fade into the darkness a few times the night before, had felt his agony and fear each time. She knew he had escaped sometime the day before and that, based on the way Auradon was keeping an eye on the waters, he hadn't been found yet. She also knew what she felt then, and what the book said caused the fear and foreboding to vanish.

But, for once in her life, Maverick Mim doubted the book. There couldn't have been any way Riah had managed to accidentally undo the damage caused by years of magical manipulation. There was absolutely no way Fairy Godmother was back.

A deep breath did absolutely nothing to ease her nerves as Maverick found herself standing in Fairy Godmother's cottage, having followed Riah's magical presence to find him. She would have to pray Faye was out, there was no way she would get away with fighting and killing Fairy Godmother in her own damn home, even if it was to protect Riah. And Riah- there was far too much chance he would get hit in the crossfire. He was still so weak, there was no way he would survive a curse accidentally deflected in his direction.

Her intention had been to find him, grab him, and teleport back to the Isle, but that instantly proved problematic. She found him in Faye's living room, laying on a soft-looking sofa under a thick blanket, surrounded by an army of machines that hooked up to him in a billion different ways. Some tubes going into his arm, one she was pretty sure was a feeding tube vanishing under the blanket, one down his throat- she wasn't Lydia, the one down his throat confused her. She reached out to it, trying to figure it out, when a singsonged voice made her heart stop.

"Leave it like you found it."

Fuck, Faye was home.

Maverick whipped around to face the smaller woman, her axe appearing in her hands as she moved between Faye and her brother, shielding him from anything she could try to hit him with. The small fae met Maverick's warning growl with kind, gentle eyes. "I've been wondering when I would find one of you here."

Oh gods, she'd had time to prepare-

"I nearly lost him," Faye continued, seeming oblivious to Maverick's fear. "The infection had him in septic shock, the poor thing. It took quite a bit of magic to finally get rid of it. I've also removed the bullet and healed him as much as I dare. You know how risky healing delicate things such as these with magic can be." Of course Maverick knew that. That was why they didn't have Mordred fix every tiny ailment on the Isle. "I think he'll pull through, dear. The damage is bad but he's quite stubborn. I doubt he'll let something like this keep him down for long."

Maverick let go of her axe with one hand, using Mordred's power as she waved her hand behind her to see if Faye was telling the truth. To her shock, she was. Oh gods, had Riah really done it?

It was dangerous to hope, but Maverick had never been one to shy away from danger. She studied Faye, unable to keep from relaxing at the woman's concern and kindness. "Why'd you help him?"

Faye smiled sadly, looking past Maverick to Riah. "He's been through enough already and I didn't help. He deserves more. You all do. I couldn't just let him die." Her eyes were soft, soft like how Maverick's would get when she looked at Mara, Mordred, or Molly. Soft in a way that Maverick didn't think anyone could fake. "He's a bit like Cinderella. You all are. He only wants his freedom, freedom he's been denied for no reason and freedom he deserves. I can see that now."

He'd done it. He'd broken the spell and bought Faye back to herself. Maverick relaxed, vanishing her axe. "He's going to be okay?"

Faye nodded. "Yes, child. He's going to be okay."

[thevindicativevordan]

Comics this week?

Action Comics #1058 - Loved seeing Clark put some of Lex's toys to good use against his opponent. Superman is smart you guys! Glad that PKJ was able to canonize the House Mythos he's been talking about for ages before he leaves Action. Starchild is a great use of one of Clark's various "titles", not as crazy about Red Son but it does bestow a fantasy vibe that might fit Osul being a quasi-Jesus figure. Definitely the Empire of Shadows talking to Norah, man I'm excited to see Supes and the evil Batman clash, especially since Supes has his own suit of armor and sword! Neat how PKJ bookends his run with Supes being depowered yet again.

Detective Comics #1075 - Decided to drop this. It's not "bad" but it's not doing anything I haven't seen a million times before, might catch it in trade, and I still need to cut back.

Steelworks #5 - I love the contrast between the phasing guy being sympathetic and Walker (the AmerTek CEO) being an unrepentant piece of shit. Glad that Dorn brough up the iron of Irons bearing John Henry's name when JH fought against tech and progress while JHI has always tried to push it forward. both of them have to beat a machine however, in Irons case a full blown mecha.

Wonder Woman #2 - More of an art showcase for Sampere but goddamn what a beautiful showcase it is. I should have seen the reveal coming that the Amazon Diana beat in the contest to become WW in the first place was the same one who kickstarted the events of this one, but I was surprised! Where does Emelie figure into Sovereign's plans I wonder? Did he simply take advantage of what she did, or is she working for him? Good stuff with Sovereign saying he was drawn to Diana because like him she's a mix of myth, and that's probably as close as Wondy fans are going to get to the clay origin coming back until Gunn decides what to do with her.

Unstoppable Doom Patrol #7 - Excellent ending to the series which unfortunately is spoiled by the tease for S2 featuring the Batwoman Who Laughs. Look Culver I know you love Morrison, when Morrison calls you out on how stupid this idea was, maybe you should just accept the criticism and undo it. Only defense I can muster is that on Culver's Twitter he does say the goal is to save her via undoing the change at least, otherwise I really enjoyed this run.

The Flash #2 - Where was this Dedato for Hickman's Avengers? Could've used those crazy angles for when the Beyonders showed up. Laughed at the Grodd/God joke and looking forward to Spurrier writing Barry.

The Penguin #3 - Still good and since this is my last Batbook I hope it stays that way.

Immortal Thor #3 - By now it's clear this is merely a very good Thor comic rather than the masterpiece of Immortal Hulk, but that's still welcome. Same as Action, it's nice to see Thor use his brains as well as his brawn to solve problems, though I find Ewing's use of Loki underwhelming. It's clear his heart isn't into the idea of pitting the brothers against each other.

[im-not-a-simp-i-swear]

I have an idea for a funny post: MC superglued a harmonica to the brother's mouth while their sleeping as a prank.

(This is not an original idea, I got this from Youtuber Ben Phillips. I hope this doesn't count as copyright! ☹️)

I dont think this would be considered copyright but if anything thanks for sharing the youtuber who came up with the idea :)

SUPERGLUEING HARMONICA TO THE BOIS

As the quality prankster you are, today you've decided to do a little something to your favorite demon bros for some funsies. You saw the idea on deviltube and thought it'd be fun to do it yourself.

💙LUCIFER

- good luck trying to even get near a sleeping lucifer. He is either awake or he will wake up when you enter his bedroom

- the most likely result of doing this prank to him is that he'll catch you in the act and it'll back fire TERRIBLY

- punishments can vary in any form depending on what his mood with you is however dont be surprised if he attempts to superglue the harmonica to YOUR mouth

- if you suceed though then you better pray to god himself that he doesnt figure out it was you cause he'll be pissed and everyone will be losing their minds in the HoL and RAD, you'll embarass him publicly to a whole new level and he will not be soft on you when he finds the genius behind the prank

💛MAMMON

- easiest one to prank since he is almost with you at all times, all you need to do is to have him sleeping near you to pull out your magmum opus of a prank

- once awaken he'll lose it, of course no one is taking the cursed noises seriously but still, he'll be angry

- he isnt the second strongest of the brothers for nothing pal, he'll show his anger and it wont be pretty either

- be sure to recieve revenge from him once the harmonica is ripped off of his lips, and no, it wont be nice at all

🧡LEVIATHAN

- betrayed, hurt, angy, how could you take advantage of his sleeping self like that MC?

- if he barely left his room before than be sure he wont leave it now, not until he figures out how to get it off of him

- the only annoying part of pranking him in this case would be to wait for him to fall asleep cause gamer man over here sleeps very late, and i mean VERY LATE

- his revenge should be arriving short after yours so stay tuned until then

💚SATAN

- another complicated individual to prank.

- unless you have a death wish then dont even bother to do such a thing to him. Lucifer has s o m e mercy with you because idk, but the avatar of wrath is the avatar of wrath for a reason.

- he either already knows how to undo the superglue by all of the books he has read or he will rip it off of him out of pure rage

- run.

💖ASMODEUS

- *plays that one tiktok audio* congratulations you just won the prize of ✨🧓who's going to the retirement home🧓✨

- ok but seriously how could you? How dare you ruin his beauty sleep and how dare you ruin his gorgeous demon lips? He is p i s s e d

- will cry and will resort to the softest way posible to remove it from his lips, like come on, do you expect him to ruin his face because you thought you were being funny?

- nice try MC but this boi is definetely taking revenge

❤BEELZEBUB

- first thing's first you need him to not be dreaming about food. Second thing's second you need belphie to not be around to stop you

- once you've sticked the instrument to his mouth you'll be able to unlock a very sad beel you monster

- how will he eat now?his mouth cant open. He is hungry MC!! You have doomed the entire devildom!!

- please help him get it off and make sure to have a sorry snack plan with you cause he is hungy and sad

💜BELPHEGOR

- would beat Mammon on being the easiest to prank, he sleeps so much you just gotta be stealthy about it

- at first he'd feel the murderous tendencies rise when he realizes what has happened to him. Then he'd give up and adapt to his new lifestyle. Yep, you arent getting a satisfying reaction of of him

- once you grow tired of the lack of reaction from him you'll have to remove the harmonica yourself cause he is too tired to do so.

- also keep an eye open for a somehow worse revenge prank from him

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Saturated

Author’s Note: Here it is, the long awaited one-shot that ended up a mini story in length. This wasn’t a planned idea, just something I went with and this is the result. I know this fandom is starting to shrink due to the show ending, but I hope those of you still here are having fun!

Masterlist

Summary/Pairing: Ivar x Reader In which Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Rán

Wordcount: 9642

Warnings:  Language, Angst, Smut NSFW

The night was warm and still when Ivar made his way down to the stretching shore. It was a difficult trek the older he became because he had to wade through the sand that seemed to double his weight and sap his strength. After all that effort, he was reminded why he put himself through such a trial when he came into the blessed solitude. When he was a boy he had found an old fishermen's dock that was no longer used, and it was a quiet place he could go without being bothered. Sometimes he would look out at the water and imagine all the lands that were waiting for him to bring them terror and glory. When he was feeling less ambitious after drinking with his brothers, he would lie back on the creaking boards of the dock and gaze at the stars and wonder if the gods were watching in forethought.

His mother told him it was the sea that would take him from her. Her eyes would grow empty yet full of sadness, and he could only watch without being able to comfort her. Ivar wanted to journey, and he assumed his mother's vision meant that either it was by ship or drowning that he would be taken. When one entered a longboat to go raiding, the chance of a storm crashing down was always a possibility, but it was a risk worth taking for honor and legacy. He loved his mother, more than anyone, but he could not stay in Kattegat forever. His fate was out there waiting, and he needed only to extend his hand to take it.

A sudden movement in the water broke his focus and he looked out over the dock to the rippling surface. His eyes adjusted, and he thought his mind had gone when he recognized the whites of a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a person in the water, bobbing just to their nose above the surface. At first, Ivar reached forward with his hand. They must have been frozen to the bone in the frigid sea. Kattegat's waters never warmed, even in summer.

When he looked at his hand cast forward, he felt foolish. With his useless legs, he couldn't swim. His upper body strength might support him a moment or two, but then sink and be wrapped under in the weeds before he could take a breath. He withdrew his hand only to find the eyes were no longer where they should have been.

Ivar scooted closer to the edge of the dock, searching the black water for the face he thought he saw. He rubbed at his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't slept well enough, or maybe he had ingested something spoiled during the last meal. He chose to believe his senses were sharp. They had kept him alive this long, and while trying to match his brothers no less. His eyes did another sweep of the shore before he called out, "I know you're there. You should know you cannot hide from a son of Ragnar."

His legs that dangled over the pier were parted, and a figure came straight out from the water to rest its arms on his thighs. Ivar flushed when he saw the figure was womanly. A beautiful and terrifying face, with large silver eyes, peered up at him. He had mistaken you for a woman, but you were something more. The hair that tangled down to your waist dipped into the water, and below was not a pair of legs kicking. Black scales with a pearlescent shimmer. You were one of Rán's creatures, or perhaps a daughter to the goddess herself.

"Ragnarsson," You spoke, and he was struck dumb by your voice. "Few may hear the siren's song calling."

Ivar's eyes shot to your hand as it trailed up his leg. Your nails were long, and there was a transparent webbing between your fingers. What surprised him even more than your strange claws was how gentle your touch was. It was a caress barely felt through his trousers.

"Who are you?"

You smiled. "I am (Y/N)."

"I am Ivar."

"I know you," You replied, and your sweeping hand switched to cupping his cheek. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"You know Ragnar Lothbrok?" Ivar asked while leaning into your touch. Your hand was warm despite the brisk waters you waded in.

"I know many faces of your home. I like to watch and learn from your people. Your father was a gazer too, but his eyes were to the horizon. You search the stars and night sky."

When you began to pull away, Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back to his face. "Do you know my brothers?"

"I have seen them, but my song does not reach their ears. You are unique."

Ivar simpered. He could hear what his brothers could not. While they were off in barns and clearings, playing under the skirts of thralls, he was alone in the quiet of the night with a goddess. The sea had chosen him, though youngest and deformed.

"Why have you sought me out?" He asked, desperate to have his hopes confirmed.

"I wish to talk with you, and learn more of your kind. But we must always meet under darkness, for many of your people would rather hurt me than trust me."

Ivar knew why. Fishermen told tales of beautiful women taking sailors to the water, down to the sea bed of Rán's hall, never again to surface. He did not think you had the malice to do such a thing to him.

"How do I know you'll return? Is this even real?"

He couldn't help the creeping doubt from springing forth, and you flashed him a look of pity before plucking the knife from his belt. That got his attention, and he lurched forward to reach for the thing, but you held no ill intent. Instead, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and cut free a length to give to him. It was softer than any wolf pelt, and he clutched it tight to his chest.

"Giving a lock of hair to another can be one's undoing, so believe that I will return or curse me should I ever be treacherous," You said, and you slid his knife back into place before dragging your hand down his thigh. His cock gave a twitch, and your grin told him you knew. "Farewell Ivar."

You slipped back into the water like a needle through silk, and he was only able to catch a glimpse of your tail before you disappeared into the deep.

ooOOoo

Ivar went back to the dilapidated dock every night, and true to your word you would be there waiting in the water. You only approached once he took his place at the end of the pier, and Ivar would keep his legs apart so you would come rest between them. As you spoke of things unimportant, he would weave his hand with yours, playing with your fingers and the thin membrane of webbing. You would return the affections with little pets of your own, and you always left a kiss to the corner of his mouth before parting.

The lock of hair you had given to him was always with him. He had braided it together into a bracelet that he wore everywhere on his wrist. If his brothers thought anything about it, they never voiced such concerns. Ivar presumed they figured he had found his own thrall to be with, and as distracted as they were with Margrethe, they didn't dig further into his affair. His mother had noticed the thing as well, and always she would give it a long stare. Ivar always anticipated her to ask, but she avoided mentioning it as if it were a matter too delicate to speak of.

Ivar wished he could bring you to meet his family if only to brag to his brothers that you had chosen him. But he knew that could never happen. They would fear that you were a deceiver after his life, and his mother would have you killed to keep him safe. She probably would never let him near water again.

"Ivar," You called, clasping both hands on either side of his face. "Your mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Sorry," He said, looking away momentarily. "I just was thinking what it would be like to live our lives together."

"Come with me to the water," You suggested, and you gave a small tug on his arm that scooted him closer to the edge. He almost let you drag him in before he grew hesitant and pushed back.

"I can't swim like this," He said, scowling at you and then his legs.

"I will keep you safe." Ivar searched your face for any deception, but he only saw your smile. "You don't trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly. "But I…"

You heaved yourself upwards on the dock until it was just the tip of your tail whipping strokes in the water. Ivar caught your bare torso against his chest, and he flushed as your breasts pressed up against him. You were practically sharing the same air, noses brushing together as you steadied yourself in his arms. Your eyes met and you breathed a laugh that eased his previous concerns.

"We won't go far. I just want to show you that your legs aren't the burden you think they are."

You weren't pleading, and Ivar was intrigued by your suggestion. He gave you a short nod, and that was all it took for you to wrap your arms around him and haul him down into the depths. Your strength was surprising, but the admiration was banished from his mind the moment the cold water soaked straight through to his blood. He thrashed his arms, grabbing for purchase at imaginary aids that weren't there. When he tried to let out a shout, he swallowed saltwater. The sea was going to take him, just as his mother feared.

No. You were there, and you had never left. Like a spark to wood, Ivar was enveloped in a new warmth, and he floated to the surface with your arms around him. He took his first breath of air, but his throat was raw and he sputtered and choked. Your lips closed over his while he continued to cough, and it was as if you pulled all of the water out from his lungs. He didn't know if it was a real kiss, but he wore a shy grin as you pulled away.

"Breathe," You instructed. "Breathe, and look up at the stars you love."

Ivar first looked back at the shore and realized you had kept your promise. You had only taken him out far enough so his feet wouldn't brush the sandy floor. He then craned his neck up to the sky and found the familiar sight of his stars. They were the same out in the water as they were on land, a comforting thought for when he would one day sail away from home. The sky would always be there.

"Lie back and let the water hold you," You whispered in his ear from behind.

Ivar didn't know when you had maneuvered around to his back, but he continued to put his faith in you as you guided him down gently into the water. He was lying face up with his body floating across the surface weightless and free. You joined beside him, and together you shared in the silent night, bathed in the moonlight with the motion of the sea carrying your bodies. Ivar forgot for a moment about his broken legs. Drifting there beside you, he felt whole.

"You didn't answer me before," He spoke up, and you watched him with curiosity. "About us living our lives together. Is it possible?"

"There are those of my people who have given up the sea's blessing to live on land. Some may even live among your kind, though I doubt you would recognize them."

"How did they do it?" Ivar was sure even the dumbest farmer in Kattegat would have noticed a child of Rán flopping about.

"When my people choose to live a life as a land dweller, they simply have to go ashore. The blessing of the sea will fade, and in place will be a soft and weak human body, " You explained, and you turned your eyes away from him. "But the sea is vengeful and she hates those who leave her waters. Once the blessing fades, we can never return to her currents, or else we would be reduced to nothing more than foam that settles into tide pools."

If you were to be together you would have to give up everything you knew to be with him. Ivar wanted to ask this of you, but he was afraid of your answer. Being a prince as well as his mother's favored son meant he never had to work for anything. What he wanted he got, and always in plenty. If you refused him, he feared the rejection and what his reaction could be. He wasn't beyond forcing you out from the water onto dry land if it meant keeping you for himself. Better to not ask now. It was too early to demand so much from you.

He heard you shift in the water, and you were at his side again while supporting his back with your strong hands. "You don't want to ask me?"

Ivar shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"I know you will soon, Ivar. It's in your eyes, they darken with hunger."

"What would you say if I did?"

He let out a shiver as you righted him back into your arms, holding him in your embrace that let him know you were in control. "I would say that you could also give up your life to be with me. Right now, I could take you down there, and you would never again have to worry about dragging yourself upon the land."

The idea of never having to crawl again was tantalizing, something he had always wished for, and yet...even if he was with you, he knew he wouldn't forget all that he would leave behind. He wanted to show his people he could lead and conquer better than any man, even without working legs.

"I couldn't," He murmured.

"Then it is good I did not ask, and nor will you ask it of me. We will take comfort in the joy we have now, and forget everything else."

You met his eyes with your own. Silver, just like the treasures that were brought back over from raids. Ivar refused to fluster under your gaze, even though your peering felt like a piercing dagger. He wanted to appear self-assured, and not as some young lad who needed you to hold him. He pulled you close and planted a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. Your lips were cold but your mouth was warm, and he tried to keep up with your feverish pace as you devoured everything from the kiss.

When you clapped your hands on his cheeks, Ivar could feel himself trembling, and he knew it wasn't because of the kiss. Your mouth left him, and he tried to find your lips again. You placed a finger to his mouth to stop him and gave him a shake of your head. "You are like ice. I've kept you here too long."

"Not long enough," He retorted before sneaking another kiss on you.

You laughed while gently prying him back. "You have your father's confidence."

"Good, maybe you can find out what else of his I have." He gave you his best wolfish grin.

"We'll have our time," You promised, and you secured an arm around him before starting to swim back to shore.

The water seemed to grow colder as you glided through it and by the time you made it back to the pier, Ivar couldn't control his shivering. You urged him up onto the dock, and your concern had made you grow quiet. Ivar didn't mind that you fretted over his well-being, but he missed your smile.

"How will you make it back home?" You asked while looking over him to where the edge of the town was barely visible through the treeline. It was a long way off.

"I've travelled further," Ivar excused, though he had his trepidations. His damp clothes were sticking to him, and his hair felt like grass after the thawing in spring. The cold made his muscles tighten, and he wasn't looking forward to pawing at the ground with stiff hands.

"Go now, while you have the moon's light to guide you."

"When can I see you again?" It was becoming more difficult each time he had to leave you, and his thoughts revolved around when you could be together.

"I'll come back until I feel you no longer wish to see me." You reached your hand out to him, and Ivar took it, bringing it to his chest.

"That will never happen."

What he was saying must have been madness. Maybe you were Rán's daughter, and you had him under a spell. If you did, he didn't care. He would gladly stay under your enchantment. It was a warmth all his own, and a happiness he didn't have to share or contend with his brothers over.

"Goodnight my love." You placed your lips once more on his hand before returning to the sea.

Ivar did not watch after you as he usually would. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. The desperation to get inside by a fire drove him to turn towards home, and he struggled through the terrain as fast as his dragging would get him. He only passed by drunks and stragglers that did not give him a second glance upon realizing who he was. Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple. No one important.  

He huffed his way up the stairs of the Great Hall, nudging on the doors with his shoulder until they parted. A low fire was burning in the pit, and his mother was asleep on her throne. She was still all done up from the last meal, and he realized she must have waited up for his return. His guilt propelled him forward, and he went towards her instead of his room. Careful not to wake her, he collapsed on the furs at her feet where sleep found him quickly.

Ivar didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was startled awake by screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his voice shouting, and he had jack-knifed into a seated position, clutching at his lower right leg. He knew he had broken a bone, and his mother, who was alert at his side, knew it as well. She called for two able-bodied guards to take him back to his room, out of sight of the thralls who had now gathered. None of his brothers were about, and he was relieved to be spared the humiliation. The weakness of his body during moments like this was only for his mother and the healers.

He was placed down onto the fur-covered palette in his room with one of the guards already off to fetch a healer. His mother was already trying to soothe his agony with her words, and as she brushed the hair on his forward she grew a frown.

"You're burning up," She said, feeling his forehead and then his chest. And your clothes are damp."

He swatted softly at her hand, frustrated with her observations but with never enough ire to cause her any harm. "Go away."

"Ivar, where do you go? All of these nights you leave my sight and no one knows anything about it." She plucked at the bracelet of your hair on his wrist before he jerked it out of her reach. "Who is this woman you see?"

"Get out, please," He begged. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't know if it was from the fever or the pain in his legs.

He was spared any further argument from her when the healer entered with three other thralls to assist. With soft voices, they were able to make her leave, at least until they finished addressing his fracture. Ivar would have felt awful at banishing his mother from his side if he could summon any other thought that wasn't about the hurt he was feeling.

The trek back through Kattegat had proved to be too much, but he didn't regret the night spent with you. In the water under the stars, and in your arms sharing kisses was where he wanted to be. He kept those thoughts in mind as the healer got to work on setting his leg in place, slathering it in a warming salve before wrapping it tightly in bandages.

"My Prince, you will need to stay in bed for the next few days to give the bone time to mend."

He gazed up at the rafters of the ceiling with contempt. How was he supposed to stay put knowing you were out there waiting for him? He couldn’t let the time pass and risk losing you, but he would need help.

"Go and bring me Ubbe," He instructed one of the thralls who shuffled out of the room at his request.

The healer continued to try and force some foul brew down his throat that he cursed her for at every turn of his head. Ivar knew he was notorious for being difficult to treat, but this healer had stuck through the bad times at his side. He admired her tenacity. If the situation was reversed, he would have given up on himself a long time ago.

After he had taken a large enough dose of the revolting stuff, he was left alone. The medicine made his head foggy, and he drifted in and out of consciousness while waiting for Ubbe to arrive. His eldest brother was best suited for the task in mind because he was soft when it came to Ivar's condition. Hvitserk didn't care about his legs either way, and Sigurd made a point to disparage him at every turn so he was definitely out of the running. Ivar guessed they had to all be out to the hunter's cabin. Following the commotion he had caused in the morning, one of them would have heard about it by now if they had been in town. It was nothing new really. He was used to being left behind.

Just as he was about to slip into another fitful bout of sleep, his door was forced open and in came his brother. He looked out of breath from running at least half of the distance back. Poor, gullible Ubbe.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Ivar started to explain as he forced himself to sit up. "Another broken bone."

"Mother says you also have a fever," Ubbe retorted as he took a seat at the end of the palette.

Ivar groaned. He hadn't estimated that his mother would be playing watchdog. "She got to you already?"

"She's worried about you."

"What else is new? She always worries about me," He grunted out as his leg twitched in pain.

"It's not just her this time. We all are concerned. You disappear at late hours and you're always tired. Even Hvitserk has noticed, and haven't you realized that Sigurd no longer says anything to you? For him, that's practically a defeat."

Come to think of it, Ivar couldn't recall the last verbal sparring match he'd shared with his third brother. Had his time with you sapped him of his usual energy?

"I need your help with something."

"Alright," Ubbe agreed with a nod of his head. "What is it?"

"When night falls, I need you to go down to the water. There's an abandoned dock if you follow the shoreline westward. Wait there and call for (Y/N), and tell her what has happened to me."

"Is she the woman who gave you that?" Ubbe asked while indicating to the bracelet on his wrist."

Ivar nodded as he began to twirl the thing around. It meant more to him than an arm ring. It was proof you had chosen him. "She's a daughter of Rán."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her." He smiled something Ubbe couldn't understand.

"Feel better, brother," Ubbe said softly as he made his exit from the room.

Ivar could feel the headiness of the brew still working, as he was pulled into visions of you. Together you danced under the moonlight. He could recall the feeling of working legs even though he'd never had a pair before. You glided with him in his arms, but Ivar could not see if it was feet you stood upon or you had somehow managed to balance on the tip of your tail. The strangeness made him privy to the knowledge it was just a dream, but he allowed himself to be carried away in fantasy regardless.

Sometimes his mother would pop inside to have a check on him. Her long hands caressing his forehead and pushing back his hair made him feel like a boy again. The worry on her face had settled now that he was no longer writhing in pain. They only shared in a handful of words while the healer continued to tend to him. It was their special connection, a bond she did not have with his brothers.

When night came and darkness fell, Ivar sat himself up against the wall and waited for Ubbe to return with word of you. It was the first time in a long line of sneaking away that he didn't escape to go find you. A strange emptiness filled him at the thought, and he rubbed at his eyes to combat the sleep that threatened to take him. He couldn’t miss the update about you because he had fallen asleep.

A thin stream of silver light poked through a cut out in the roof of his room, and he imagined you in the water beneath the stars. He wondered what your reaction would be to learning of his injury. Concern he hoped, and not pity or regret for the night they had shared.

As Ivar's thoughts began to spiral out, he was relieved from further gloom when the door opened. Ubbe had returned, and he had on a perplexed frown that furrowed his brow.

"Well, did you speak with her?" Were the first words out of Ivar's mouth.

Ubbe shut the door behind him before coming further into the room. "I called for (Y/N) and waited on that pier, but no one ever came, Ivar."

He took a moment to juggle that information in his head while Ubbe looked on with worry. You never showed. Had something happened to you? Perhaps you were riddled with guilt about taking him in the water or you had seen Ubbe from a distance but did not approach. That had to be it. His brother was a stranger who did not hear your song as he had.

"I have to go there."

Ivar threw the furs off and started to twist to the side. His broken leg protested the rapid movement, and he grunted through his struggle. Ubbe was already at his side pushing him back. He latched onto his brother's arm and tried to shove him off, but even his upper strength had waned and he ended up flopping back down like a lifeless fish.

"You can't leave this room like that," Ubbe scolded. He took a seat down beside him, preventing him from trying something foolish again. "You'll end up losing that leg entirely."

"What's that matter? I'd be no worse off than I am right down."

Ubbe sighed. "I understand you care about this (Y/N), but I don't believe she would want to see you harm yourself this way."

Ivar knew you wouldn't. That's why he had to see you again and be surrounded by your love. "You could take me there."

"We'd never make it past the throne. Mother has seen fit to have eyes on who comes and leaves your room. I think she is looking for the woman to blame."

"(Y/N) won't come here," Ivar said and he could see the confusion on Ubbe's face, but he didn't elaborate. "I've probably lost her forever now."

"If she truly cares for you, she'll still be there," Ubbe argued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "When you are well enough, I promise I'll help you back to the dock."

Ivar knew from past experiences that it would take many moons before he'd be fully healed. His eyes closed as angry tears threatened to fall. Why had the gods cursed him with these horrible limbs? The faults of his parents should not have fallen onto him. It was a cruel fate.

When he didn't continue to speak, Ubbe must have assumed he had fallen back asleep. He crept back to the door and exited the room as softly as a mouse scuttles through the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Ivar opened his eyes and took off the bracelet from around his wrist. He held it close to his lips, feeling the silk strands as he kissed the braided band. Maybe you could sense him reaching out. He decided to keep it enclosed in his hand and across his heart. If you were calling out, he would feel you in his sleep.

ooOOoo

In the many days that went by, Ivar became more frustrated with his leg. His broken bone was mending, but not fast enough that he was allowed out of the great hall. The slow progress had him taking out his anger on everyone, and they must have felt as trapped in with him as he was feeling about being locked up.

After a brief appearance to sit down to a meal with their mother, he had not seen his brothers again. This time he could admit he was to blame, and that they made the smart decision to cut and run back to the cabin. He had made the meal as uncomfortable as he could manage out of some need for vengeance. While they were free to run about Kattegat with their thralls, he was stuck in bed with wrinkled healers painting noxious salves on his body. He couldn’t be with you, so he chose to be spiteful.

Even his mother began to show signs of being fed up with him. Her smiles were now close-lipped, and she would linger by the door when she visited to make a hasty exit. He had yelled at her only once, and it had to do with her wanting to leave him just like everyone else. Ivar knew that wasn't true, and the moment she let out an anguished sob he had apologized.

Rather than continue to hurt those around him, he knew what he had to do. His leg was well enough that he could crawl again, and if he secured it tightly in his leather bindings it should protect the bone from any trauma as he moved. He had to get down to the pier himself and find you again. The call from the sea had him more desperate for water than a man dying of thirst. No thrall or guard would dare refuse him, and even his mother would not be able to stop him from going. He was doing this for her as well, even if she wouldn't see it that way. After causing her tears, he wouldn't be the reason for any more of her sorrow.

He needed the light to travel, so he began the trek from his room when the sun had only just begun to kiss the horizon. Much of the activity in the great hall had died down once the last meal had been served, and many of the thralls had already gone off to the barn. His mother was not on her throne. Ivar smirked at his good fortune and made for the doors as fast as he was able. Once he had them nudged shut behind him, he began his descent down the stairs. It was the most difficult part of the journey, guiding his body down feet first so his leg wouldn't bounce on every step down.

By the time he had cleared the treeline, the sun had set further and shadows were popping up in every corner. Ivar was more winded than he would normally be due to being bedridden, and he was mindful that he would have to work on building back the strength he had lost. But none of that mattered now. The dock was in sight. He had made it. He went together well with the solitude of the place, and when he sat perched on the end the creaking boards welcomed him home.

"(Y/N)," Ivar called out while searching for any ripple in the water. The surface remained still as glass, and he frowned while giving your name another shout.

Perhaps it was still too young in the day. He waited for the complete pitch of night to hit while letting his mind run wild with all the things he wanted to tell you about. It would be like a reunion of two lovers, and he couldn't fathom how one could be separated from their woman while gone on raids. Of course, his mother and father detested one another's presence, so it must have come as a balm to be away from one another.

The clouds parted from the moon, and one by one the stars surfaced in the sky. He called for you again, then held his breath to listen for any break in the water. Instead, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and over his shoulder, he saw Ubbe approaching.

"I figured you would try coming back soon," Ubbe said once he stood at his side. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff," He replied tersely. "What do you want?"

Ubbe took an uninvited seat beside him which caused Ivar to shift over. There wasn't nearly enough room at the edge of the dock for both of them, and the wood groaned with the added weight.

"I never told you, but I've been coming back here every night after you sent me to search for (Y/N)."

Ivar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I saw how important it was to you to get that message to her, and I wanted to help. I might not be able to take away your pain, but I will still be your legs where I can."

Ivar looked at his lap as the heat built up in his face. He never knew how to take to his eldest brother's kindness. None of the rest of them had it, but from Bjorn's mouth, it was said that he inherited it from Ragnar.

"She never came back, did she?"

Ubbe shook his head. "She must only come for you."

"I don't think so," Ivar said as he looked out at the water. "It's been too long, and I've missed my chance. I don't think she'll come back."

"If she cares for you as you do her, I'm certain she'll be back."

Ubbe's words floated off him as he gazed down at the black water. He was struck with an irrational idea to force your hand if you were near. Before his brother could react, Ivar threw himself off the dock and into the water. It wasn't deep this close to shore, but it was enough that he began to sink. Ubbe was quick to follow, and Ivar tried in vain to bat away his saving hands. He was so desperate to have you come back that he would risk drowning. What a fool.

"Idiot," Ubbe cursed as he dragged them both up onto the sand. "What were you trying to do?"

Ivar turned his head away as he coughed up water. He felt embarrassed by what he'd just done and angry that it didn't earn him anything more than soaked clothes. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand, and you won't help me to," Ubbe said, and his tone lightened from annoyance to mild irritation. "I need my little brother back. The one who's smarter than me at every turn, and doesn't make me fish him out of the sea."

Ivar started to laugh. It began in a quiet snicker and grew deep from his belly until Ubbe joined him. Neither of them knew what the humor was in the situation, but Ivar felt it was better to give in to the urge. He wanted to forget you weren't there, and giggling like a child with his brother in the sand was a good way to accomplish that.

"Should we head back?"

Ivar gave his leg a tug with his hand. "The bandage has soaked through and is starting to fall off. Guess I'd better have it looked at."

Ubbe crouched down beside him and indicated for him to climb up on his back. "C'mon, it'll be faster."

For once Ivar didn't argue. He couldn’t benefit from another disagreement, and he didn't want to be in wet clothes longer than he had to. Ubbe or Floki were the two he trusted most to support him. Hvitserk had dropped him one time, and he refused to let that happen twice. Sigurd never offered.

Once he was secured up to Ubbe's height, they started back home. He chanced one last look over his shoulder for as long as the water was in sight, clinging to the idea that you would spring up from the depths. The only movement out there came from the wind and the tide.

Neither brother spoke another word, but Ivar suspected Ubbe knew he had taken that last glance. How could he not? He wasn't ready to give up on you or accept the idea that you had abandoned him. Thoughts of you being in harm came to him, and he to banish those away because of the helpless feeling they gave him. You were a daughter of Rán, and the sea couldn't hurt you. Repeating it enough times had to make it true. As they journeyed through the night back to Kattegat, Ivar clung to the hope of seeing you again, and his thoughts warmed him up and dulled the pain until he found rest.

ooOOoo

Time passed by for Ivar and the pain in his legs dulled back into its usual ache. With his bone mended he could return to training with his brothers, and hunting up by the cabin. While his physical injury may have healed, it was not so for the throbbing in his heart. He had gone for sparse visits to the abandoned dock again, with each ending in the same sorrow until he had decided to give up going back. What's more, your bracelet that he had never let out of reach had vanished one day. Perhaps you had never been real, and he had dreamed you up.

What more could the gods take from him? First, it was his legs, then his father, and recently he was drifting from his brothers due to their infatuation with Margrethe. It was his mother he looked to as his constant, but she had grown distracted by visions. It was now common practice for her to disappear to her room after the last meal, when not so long ago she would be the last to leave with a chalice of wine. All of this left Ivar alone, and his thoughts had become unbearable. He needed something to dull the noise, a distraction.

More than anything Ivar longed to keep up with his brothers, and that's when he decided he wanted to fuck a woman. He approached Ubbe with the request to convince Margrethe. She had a pleasant face, and she didn't resemble you. If she had taken three of the other sons of Ragnar, he should be no different. Ubbe appeared torn when he first asked but did agree, and Margrethe was hardly in a position to refuse.

Now that the moment was approaching, and he was being brought over to the cabin by boat, he wondered if he would be the one to refuse. From what he'd always seen, men loved to hump a beautiful woman. It's what led to his parents' affair and marriage. So what was wrong with him that as he grew closer to the destination he felt ill? Ubbe certainly wasn't sharing the sentiment. He wore a dumb grin and was humming an old song to himself.

"You're happy I'm about to lay with your woman?" Ivar asked.

Ubbe laughed. "Margrethe isn't my woman, she's still a thrall. But I am happy because this is a good day for you, brother."

The day is still young, Ivar thought with a bitterness that was ingrained in his bones. Was sex such a powerful thing that it would shift who he became? Other than to have children, Ivar never dwelled on the matter. He'd never had a lover, and the closest he had come to obtain such a relationship was with you.

The boated jilted back and forth as it hit shallow water. Ubbe tied off by a tree before coming to fetch him. He was to be carried by his brother to his first tryst with a woman. Not nearly as humiliating as crawling he supposed, but the difference was negligible.

As they passed through the threshold of the abandoned cabin, Ivar stole a look around the place. It smelt like fire and driftwood, and there was a bed that had been piled thick with furs. The flame burning in the hearth let him know that Margrethe was already there.

Ubbe deposited him down on the bed and turned to get a look at him. "I'll leave now so you can be ready for her. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Ivar swallowed. That was easy for any of his brothers, they all had working parts. A handful of times he had felt his prick twitch and stiffen, but it was never a long event and he had never dared to try to take himself in hand. It was silly, but he was afraid of his cock.

He began to disrobe with haste, not wanting Margrethe to walk in on him without his trousers and his legs exposed. Once he was free of his garments he threw the heavy furs over himself and clutched them at his waist. All he could hear was his heart pounding, and he kept his chin tucked into his chest, straining to listen for the woman in the cabin.

She came to him from behind in light, cautious steps. Perhaps she was nervous, or his trepidations had seeped into the air and spoiled the mood. Ivar resisted the urge to peek until she stood at the side of the bed. When he glanced up he saw that she wore a fisherman's net as a veil. Her features were distorted, but he could make out the subtle difference that alluded to her being anyone other than Margrethe.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered and hoped.

You lifted back the thin mesh from your face, and you put on a dazzling smile. Ivar had never seen a better sight, not the first sacrifice of spring or the storms of Thor could hold a candle up to you. You donned a crisp white gown that was cinched at the waist with a strap of brown leather, and your hair was a wild tangle of waves. He had never seen you without your sodden tresses.

You took your first step to come closer, but you lost your balance and fell onto the bed in his awaiting arms. This was where you belonged.

"Shit," You cursed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "I was supposed to be beautiful and graceful, but these legs are too light. If I run fast enough, I'm sure I could soar like a bird."

"You have legs?" Ivar exclaimed while pulling you onto the bed beside him with all of the strength he could summon. "Let me see."

You swung your legs across his lap, careful not to rest any weight on his thighs. He hitched the skirt of your dress up to your thighs, exposing the new flesh. His hands didn't know where to touch first. This must be the work of the gods. In place of your magnificent tail were two gorgeous limbs that he was happy to smooth his hands over. You wiggled your toes, content to observe Ivar as he studied you.

"How is this possible?"

"I told you my people can choose to abandon the sea. Now I'm a soft creature like you," You said while giving his arm a playful squeeze.

He caught your hands before you could pull away and placed a kiss on each of them. They no longer had the webbing or claws, but there was a strength to them that he could feel under your touch. "Where did you go? I tried so many times to find you, and I even sent my brother."

"You had your life up here, and I had mine below," You said as your eyes grew vacant. "When I did return to the surface, I could no longer find you. All of these things left unsaid caused us to miss each other."

"Then why are you here now, like this?"

You reached for his wrist, finding it bare. Ivar knew what you searched for. "You no longer have my precious gift. Did you think I turned treacherous?"

"I misplaced it. I would never have thrown it away, even if I thought you'd left me."

"I know," You said as you ran a hand down his bare chest and over his heart. "You were in more pain than I understood that night. The blue in your eyes."

Ivar tensed. "How did you learn about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"My mother…" Ivar knew his mouth was hanging open in question, and he snapped it shut to regain composure.

"She found your bracelet. It was her voice I could hear beckoning me to the land. She must be a powerful woman to do such a thing."

You didn't have any animosity in your voice, but Ivar couldn't help but feel angry for you. His mother had taken your life from the sea by force. He had considered the heinous deed himself for a time, but he would have never risked your resentment. What if that came to pass now that the unthinkable had happened?

Ivar couldn't keep himself from looking at you now. He wouldn't let you go a second time. "She said the sea will take me. Perhaps you are meant to stop that from happening."

"Or maybe I am the sea," You said, shifting your hips as you hovered over his lap. With a firm shove you had him down flat on the furs, and he nearly lost his air as your thighs squeezed at his waist. "Come to take you myself because I couldn't stand the thought of that Margrethe touching you."

And then Ivar realized...Ubbe had known he was taking him to you. You had been on land long enough to learn to walk and find out about his pathetic setup with the thrall. His face flushed and he turned his head to the side before feeling your fingers grasp his chin. You tilted his face back around, and he saw only tenderness.

"I know the weariness from being alone. My heart has been there as well."

"You'll stay?" Ivar knew he sounded a touch petulant, but he did not want to suffer another morning with you vanishing.

"Until the gods bring you home and the sea turns me to froth, I will remain by your side, Ivar Ragnarsson."

He didn't know who's lips touched first, but when your mouths connected, it was like being awash on the deck of a ship. You were a cool drink of water with the tang of salt, and Ivar threaded his hands through your hair. The more his hold tightened, the more it pulled him in like reeds in a marsh.

You withdrew slowly, and you held his gaze, even when he wanted to look away from the thrill of what you'd just done. With careful hands, you shed the veil from your head, and then the dress, all collecting into one pile on the floor with his garments. You were naked before him. All of your scales were gone in place of smooth flesh and pleasing curves. Ivar knew he was gaping at your breasts, how they rose and fell with each rapid breath you took. As you gave a coy grin, you peeled back one corner of the furs and slithered your way in beside him. You pressed up against his side, and his body went taut as you tangled your legs with his.

"Is this alright?" You asked while your toes brushed up and down his shin.

"Yes," He said as a puff of air escaped him.

It was stifling hot under the covers, and your hand seemed to sear his flesh as you dragged it up to his thigh. Your fingers just teased next to cock before brushing up his abdomen. Ivar shifted, his hand reaching yours to halt your motions.

Your eyes flashed to his, and you smiled with patience. "Tell me what you want."

"I…" He paused, unable to form the words, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. With a tighter grasp, he took control of your hand and brought it back down to his half-hard prick. "I just want you."

"You have me," You murmured back as your hand began to fondle his shaft. He continued to grow in your hand, and Ivar let his eyes roll back at the feeling of you working him. His cock had never been so stiff, and his free hand clutched at the furs as he tried to recognize everything he was feeling. Fluid was beginning to bead out at his tip, and he struggled to push you back.

"S-stop," He sputtered.

You pulled back with a shy expression, and you were breathing just as hard as he was. You enjoyed what you could do to him. "Are you alright?"

Ivar bobbed his head, not sure if he agreed or not with your question. "I was losing control too soon, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"Is that all?" You rolled yourself on top of him, pushing back the furs while the cold air of the room pebbled your nipples. Ivar looked up at you in awe. "Touch me then."

Your slick center was rubbing on the base of his shaft now pressed up against his stomach, and he could feel his hips give a few practiced ruts. He saw the flash of delight in your eyes, and you hummed out a moan that was as long as a horn that bellowed in war.

"I'm still adjusting to this new body," You panted. "I've never felt like this before."

Ivar felt a strong sense of pride for bringing you these new experiences along with him. Even though he lacked the skill, he had a newfound confidence that had him reaching for you. His hands felt rough and clumsy against your untouched skin, squeezing and pawing to see how much pressure to apply and where. Your breasts were soft and pliable while your backside was firm and rounded, and you leaned further into him as he grasped onto your cheeks. You placed a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat that had him moaning. He wondered if you could hear his heart racing.

"Please," He choked. "I need to feel you."

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you pulled back to watch his face as you clutched his cock. Lining it up with your slippery center, you brought your cunt down to the hilt. Ivar was under no delusions that he would last long or immediately be worthy of infamy in bed like his brothers, but being surrounded by your wet heat, he thought he'd cum right then. As you sat up straight to readjust, he let out a gasp. You did too, only when his eyes cracked open to get a look at you, your eyes were shut and your face was screwed up in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" You whimpered, hands grabbing at his chest. It seemed everything about your human body was new.

"For human women, it does the first time." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you down onto the bed with himself still connected between your legs. It would be difficult for him to manage this way long, but it would be better for you this time. "I've got you."

Your eyes were blurry from unshed tears, but he could feel you relax in his arms as he began to set a slow pace. On the first withdrawal of his cock he could see a small amount of blood seep out which he regretted feeling thrilled about. You were his now, and he was yours.

The strength in your legs was unmatched, and as you grew more comfortable you squeezed at his waist with your knees. He knew his end was already in sight from the tightening in his balls and the burning in his gut. You had thrown your head back, hair tousled and mouth open to show your sharp teeth. It was the only telltale sign that you weren't a human, and he bought his lips down on yours to explore the fangs with his tongue. You teased back with little nips, and you gave a harsh tug on his hair that separated him from the sloppy kiss.

"Fuck," He breathed out, and his hips began to lose rhythm. "I can't go much longer."

You ran a hand meant to soothe down his back, but it only spurred him on. His hips snapped at a frenzied pace with his thighs smacking against yours. Nothing could stop him chasing the feeling of his release, and with a few more pumps he felt himself empty deep inside you with a profane groan. All of the strain he'd put on his arms to keep from balancing on his legs gave out, and he collapsed on top of you. Your hot skin stuck to his, and he could feel you twitch beneath him.

"Sorry," He whispered embarrassedly. He rolled off of you and his cock made a wet pop as it slipped out from your folds. "You didn't get to finish."

You rolled onto your side to look at him, still breathing fast and on the precipice of your release. "Forget that. This was about you getting to enjoy me tonight."

Ivar shook his head as he turned into you. "But I want you to enjoy me as well."

His hand dove for your core, chubby fingers fumbling around in your wet pussy that was now a mix of your blood and his cum. This was the first time he had felt a woman's warmth, and he watched your reaction as he felt around your lips and the tiny bud at the top. When he stroked over it with his thumb your legs jerked and you whined. He continued to swirl his digit around the nub while experimenting with varying degrees of pressure. You were now experiencing his love for you, and he could read what you enjoyed most with how expressive you were with your body. He settled into a comfortable pattern, and your hand shot down to join his when he hit a perfect cadence.

"Yes...there," You cried.

Ivar plunged his longest finger into your depths as you began to wither and shake. He could feel your pussy clamp down on him as you came, and he knew he wanted to feel that on his cock next time. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you started to calm, and he withdrew his hand, only to bring it to his mouth for a taste. You watched him in rapt attention.

"A warrior tastes the blood of his enemies in battle, so should he not also taste his lover's in bed?"

You brought your hands back together with his and pulled yourself against his chest. "If the gods willed it, then let it be so."

You laid in silence together, and Ivar felt your little puffs of air even out as you fell asleep. He pulled a fur over the both of you, the fire had long gone low and the night air colder. Indeed the gods must have willed it. Ivar now knew he was favored by the gods above all other sons of Ragnar. You were a daughter of Rán, and you had chosen him. His mother knew it as well, or else she wouldn't have summoned you back into his arms. In his heart, he had already forgiven her for taking the bracelet.

The sea had come to take him, and he had gone willingly into the mouth of the current. It was comfortable there, like a never-ending waterfall over rocks beating him down onto your altar. You opened it up and took him in, and now you were both drenched.

The cabin grew cold and black, and Ivar went to sleep beside you that night with the comfort that the stars still shined overhead, and that when dawn came he would not have to face another day without you.

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[bmo-galaxy]

Okay but what if they kissed?

But just imagine that Naruto and Sasuke kiss at the end. An honest to god, square on the lips, absolutely intentional kiss. A kiss they choose, a kiss on purpose, a kiss that isn't comic relief or shock value. A kiss to explain what drove Naruto forward all these years. The kind of kiss that shows that even now, even after it all, they choose each other and came back to each other and never, ever forgot. A kiss that’s a promise and a fresh start. 

Just imagine, if you will, for a moment that Sasuke tells him to shut up and Naruto peels himself from the rock, turning with fire in those blue eyes. The same way they burn before a fight, prepared and focused. Those blue eyes have always been Sasuke’s undoing, reflecting only the earnest truth. Every one of Naruto’s emotions is broadcast in those vast oceans. A strong, steady hand shoots out to fist in Sasuke’s shirt and raven is sure he's about to get headbutted again. Naruto wretches him up and leans real close and Sasuke is waiting for the crack and the pain. A pain that never comes.

The kiss isn't soft or sweet or sentimental. Its all sharp edges and teeth and desperation. A peak into Naruto’s soul, a glimpse at his pain, a taste of his anger. Just as quickly as it starts, the kiss is over. Naruto pulls away with a gasp, sapphire eyes fluttering open. All the fierceness and fury deflates from Naruto and the blonde’s shoulders sag. His fist is still gripping Sasuke’s shirt, but it loosens until it sits flat against the Uchiha’s chest, right over his heart. Eyes falling closed, Naruto basks in the steady beat against his palm. You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive and you’re here.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that," Naruto admits this in a husky whisper before he can stop himself. Disbelief colors his tone and the blonde shakes his head like he can't believe this is happening. “This is like a dream,” he continues, still quiet and heartfelt. A part of the blonde is embarrassed and wishes he would shut up, but Naruto is just too tired. Mind, body, soul; every bit of him is exhausted, but more than anything, Naruto is weak with relief. Leaving his tongue loose and his inhibitions lowered. 

Sasuke struggles for words, struggles to breathe, struggles to understand. Where was the strike, the anger, the hatred for everything Sasuke has done? Why does Naruto look so fucking happy? Bloodied, mangled, black and blue and beaten. Sasuke will never apologize for his actions, standing by hatred for the Leaf and his dedication to his late brother. Naruto, though... 

Naruto, who followed him to the ends of the earth. Naruto, who never gave up on him, even when everyone around him did. Naruto, who stood up to him over and over, proudly proclaiming to be his friend every single time. Naruto, who was prepared to lose his dream, his home, his life; and was prepared to do so smiling, just happy to have a future with Sasuke. 

Why, Naruto? Sasuke implores silently, watching happy tears streak down the blonde’s cheeks. Why, why, why, why--

"Why?" Is all that Sasuke can think and all he can get past his lips. The one great mystery: why would someone like Naruto, now surrounded by love and praise, chase after Sasuke so relentlessly, the one person determined to cut their ties entirely? Naruto looks up at him with sparkling, vast blue eyes that don't hide anything. A clear, cloudless sky. Every corner of Naruto is laid bare in front of Sasuke, who resists the urge to turn away. Those damn blue eyes have always been Sasuke’s undoing, the one thing consistently able to shakes Sasuke’s resolve and fill him with yearning. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, you know why," Naruto chuckles, bashful and blushing now. He scratches his cheek and glances away. "I figure that made it pretty obvious."

Sasuke almost smiles, almost relents his intense stare, because he does know. Far as he tried to run from the truth, he does know why Naruto did all of that. Just like he knows why he was never truly able to sever their connection. Sasuke needs to hear it though, needs to hear the truth he's known for years and years. Why would Naruto do any of it other than-- than-- than--

"Why, Naruto?" And the blonde can tell that the raven is asking about much more than the kiss. Sasuke is asking about everything and Naruto only has one answer for that question. Naruto’s flush darkens, the anticipation and passion and intensity in Sasuke’s gaze is setting the blonde on fire. A wild, uncontainable hope flares in the fox’s chest, seeing all of his own desires reflected in Sasuke’s eyes. 

And Naruto would swallow thickly and say the three words he's always held in his heart, always believed in, always protected against anything.

"I love you," Naruto whispers and Sasuke’s heart stops, time stops, everything stops. There’s only Naruto and his burning sapphire eyes. "I love you, Sasuke. That’s why. That’s-- That’s always been why."

It’s the answer Sasuke expects and knows is coming but somehow still knocks the breath from the raven. There it is, the undeniable truth neither had ever uttered out loud. The truth Sasuke hid from. The truth Naruto never let disappear. Against all odds and by some miracle, Naruto loves him. 

Naruto loves me, Naruto loves me, Naruto loves me.

"I love you," Sasuke says like a prayer, whispered on the edge of his breath. Uttering the confession makes him feel faintly lightheaded and a breathless chuckle slips from his lips. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Naruto laughs, high and clear and beautiful. A pure sound that kisses Sasuke’s ears and soothes his soul. For a second, in this moment, everything feels alright. Naruto punches his shoulder gently, a fond and affection gesture that’s nothing like the blows they traded an hour ago. 

“I really must have rocked your shit for you to be apologizing to me,” the orange ninja teases, smiling brightly. Sasuke rolls his eyes at the comment, shaking his head slowly. Everything is different but nothing has changed. This is still comfortable, familiar, soothing. As if no time has passed at all. 

“I’ll make one exception, don’t get used to it,” he needles back. Naruto copies his eyeroll and fights down a giggle. There’s a beat of silence, a moment to bask in the glow. Everything they need is here and even though wounds ache, neither is rushing to locate their comrades. They’ll find us eventually, they both think silently, content to enjoy their moment alone. Naruto scoots a little nearer and Sasuke leans a little closer. One shaking, hesitant arm reaches out to wrap around Sasuke’s waist. The raven haired nin stills initially, survival instinct telling him to run run run before he gets hurt, or overtaken, or killed.

Naruto doesn't hurt him though. Despite everything, in spite of everything, Naruto never hurts Sasuke. Naruto is safe, gentle warmth. Even his heaviest blows somehow felt like a fond caress. Naruto is just good, plain and simple. So, the raven relaxes into the embrace and wraps his arm around Naruto too. The embrace is awkward and sticky, both are covered in grime and sweat and blood, but they don't care. Trembling fingers cling desperately. Tear streaked faces press into necks and shoulders. Their last and first embrace, a new dawn breaking over them. Naruto’s mouth finds Sasuke’s ear and the blonde’s voice warms and deepens with all of his love and gratitude and relief.

"Welcome home, Sasuke."

A sob rises, rises, rises in Sasuke’s chest but he swallows hard to keep it down. It’s easy to remember the last person to say those words to him, easy to imagine his mother in the kitchen as he leaves for school. Everything has been darkness from that day, broken up by brief, startling moments of light. Moments with Naruto, working as a three man team and growing together. The dawn has broken and the warmth of Naruto’s sun is a beacon in the shadows, a breath of hope and fresh air after a long winter underground. 

"I'm home," Sasuke replies because it’s true. Naruto is home. Not his first one, but certainly his last. 

[birdiefw]

LET ME SHOW YOU | SAM WINCHESTER [SMUT 18+]

Summary: Having been turned on all day, you decide you can’t wait any longer and lead somewhere more private.

Warnings: swearing, teasing, oral (female receiving), impala sex (unprotected but y’all can pretend otherwise)

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written an imagine, and technically this one is meant for my Sam Winchester fic on Wattpad so it wasn’t intended to be an imagine, but I figured it could work as one so here it is lmao. Also, destiel is pretty much implied in this, but you’re free to see Dean and Cas however you want. I also edited this, but I apologize for any errors or if it says her/she/birdie (who is my spn oc) instead of you/your/etc!

You felt like your entire body had been set on fire without warning. Your skin was incredibly warm as you tried to remain still, feeling like your body was getting hotter and hotter despite how cold it actually was inside the bunker. Your hair was pushed back so it would stop clinging to your neck/sides of your face, your mind unable to focus on your laptop that was placed in front of you as something else was taking over all of your senses.

You were very aware of the fact that you weren’t alone in the library, twisting and pursing your lips together as you tried to ignore the rampant thoughts that kept popping into your mind every time your gaze flickered over to Sam. But, every time your eyes fell on your husband, you couldn’t help but admire his stunning features, picturing all of the sides you’d seen of him in your many years of being a couple—some of which only made the ache between your legs increase.

You bit her lip when you looked away from him again, trying to force the thoughts aside; you desperately hoped you’d be alone soon.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up from your laptop that had started dim from your lack of actually doing anything on it in the last few minutes, eyes slightly widened as you looked across at Castiel who was sat in front of you, his bright blue eyes pinned to your features.

“What?” you asked, glancing aside at Sam and Dean who were both staring at you with confusion much like Castiel.

“We were askin’ if you found anything,” Dean said, noticing how your laptop had dimmed.

“Oh, uh, I—no. Not yet, anyways,” you answered with a heavy sigh, briefly glancing towards Sam before your eyes swiveled to Dean and then Castiel.

“Are you feeling okay?” Castiel wondered, curiously tilting his head at you. “You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you sarcastically said, giving him a fake smile as you folded your arms over your chest and crossed your legs. “I can always count on you for a pick me up, can’t I?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, a faint frown appearing on his lips.

Sam’s lips turned into a frown, noting that you did look rather pale compared to usual. You looked slightly sweaty, eyes looking more dark than normal. You easily noticed the change in Sam’s expression, quickly shaking your head as you closed your laptop; there was no point in keeping it open, anyways. “I’m fine,” you firmly told him, giving him a look when you saw him shoot you a similar look.

“You sure?” Dean asked, curiously eyeing you from the seat next to you.

“Yes, I’m sure, Dean,” you said, flashing a perky smile on your lips as if it would assure the three men.

Dean shook his head with a small smile appearing on his lips, closing his own laptop. He could tell something was off with you, but knowing Sam wouldn’t let it go, he decided against pushing the subject. “Alright, whatever you say, Y/N,” he said. Then his eyes flickered over to Castiel, nudging his head to the side as he started to stand up from the table. “Come on, you still gotta finish watchin’ Seven.”

Castiel warmly smiled, looking at Sam and you as he stood up from the chair. “Night, guys.”

“Night, Cas,” you and Sam said in unison, smiling back at the angel.

Dean tucked his laptop under his arm, silently nodding towards his brother and you as he waited for Castiel. You and Sam quietly watched them walk away, a grin lingering on your lips until they were gone.

You let out a heavily sigh and leaned your head back, puffing out your cheeks. Sam stood up from his own chair and headed over to you, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. You jumped at the sudden touch, looking at him with wide eyes. “Fuck,” you whispered, letting out a breath of relief as you realized it was only Sam, “You almost sent me into cardiac arrest.”

Sam softly laughed, innocently raising his hands as he sat on the table, peering down at you. You shook her head as you stood up, adjusting Sam’s flannel that you wore over a pair of leggings, pushing the sleeves up to your elbows. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, babe?” he asked, genuine concern etched on his features as you stood in front of him. “You’re pretty warm.”

You let out a sigh, glancing around to make sure Dean nor Castiel were around at the moment. “I-I’m not sick, I promise,” you said, looking at your husband. “I’m just. . .”

Sam softly gazed at you when she lowered you head, warmly smiling as he lifted his hand to you chin to make you look at him again. “Just what?”

You coyly smiled, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “Let me show you.”

The corners of Sam’s lips tweaked up into a smirk, finally noticing the look that was swirling around in your eyes. ‘I should’ve known,’ he thought to himself, already feeling himself start to grow hot with anticipation. You eagerly took his larger hand in yours, tugging him in the opposite direction of their shared bedroom.

You giddily giggled as you hurried down the narrow halls of the bunker, tugging Sam towards the garage with a devilish smirk appearing on your lips, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that Dean nor Castiel hadn’t left the room for some reason. “You don’t think they have plans to actually go anywhere tonight after their movie, do you?” You asked Sam, carefully walking with your back facing the spacious garage while your intense gaze was pinned to Sam as your warm hand still clutched his in your own.

“God I fuckin’ hope not,” Sam breathlessly replied, eyes lighting up with a rush of excitement as you guided him over to the Impala.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as the two of you came up to the side of the Impala, standing beside one of the back doors as you fully faced Sam, body even warmer than before.

“Well, even if they do. . .” You softly said, trailing one of your hands up one of Sam’s buff arms, fingertips trailing up until they reached his stubbly jaw. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing his usually bright eyes had darkened a few shades as they took in your features. Your smirk instantly widened, peering up at Sam. “They’ll just have to wait.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked in a low tone, taking a few steps closer so you were pressed up against the Impala, your chests almost pressed together as he stood in front of you with his hands softly caressing your hips. “Well, how much longer are you gonna make me wait?”

“I don’t know yet,” you teased, running a few of your fingers along his bottom lip. “You were teasing me all day pretty much with your soft hair, your kissable lips. . .”

Sam darkly chuckled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes as your words made his excitement increase. “Then let me make it up to you.”

You leaned forward in response, Sam quickly bending his head down to connect you lips when she moved towards him. One of your hands automatically went to his shaggy hair, gently tugging on it to elicit a low groan from Sam. You smiled with approval, feeling one of his hands go to your lower back and press your body up against his while the other went to the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair. Your soft lips parted as the kiss became more needy, giving Sam access to explore your mouth like his life depended on it.

Sam’s hand moved from your back and to the handle off to the side, quickly finding it and pulling it open with a grunt. “After you,” Sam panted.

You excitedly grinned and crawled into the backseat, seeing Sam steal a glance around the garage to make sure no one was around before climbing inside as well and closing the door behind him. You eagerly leaned forward, connecting your lips once more as your fingers started to undo the buttons of the flannel Sam wore. Sam grinned into the kiss, assisting you with removing the shirt before carelessly tossing it to the side. Then he broke apart from the kiss, discarding the plain gray shirt he’d been wearing underneath as you started to undo the buttons of the flannel you had on.

Sam reconnected your lips just as she finished unbuttoning it. You giggled, going to shrug it off until one of Sam’s hands stopped you. “Seeing you in my clothes drives me absolutely crazy. . .I wanna see you come undone with it on.”

You let out a shaky breath at his words, lowering your hands. You bit her lip and cupped his cheeks in your clammy hands, firmly kissing him. “I love you,” you told him.

Sam grinned, giving you a quick peck in return. “I love you too,” he murmured, one hand trailing down your sides, stopping along the side of your thigh as his other hand guided you to scoot back more and lay against the back of the leather seat. “And, I wanna show you. . .just how. . .much,” he gruffly said, pecking your cheek, nose, and chin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked in a deep breath, feeling Sam kiss along your neck. “God. . .” You whispered, involuntarily bucking your hips up as one hand gripped his hair again.

“Someone’s eager,” Sam murmured against your hot skin, his hand still caressing her thigh, setting her entire body on fire even more with just a simple touch.

“Please, Sam,” you whimpered, catching his gaze.

Sam slowly moved down your body, reaching for the hem of your leggings. “Wearing a skirt today woulda made this a lot easier,” he said, causing a laugh to erupt from you as he started to tug down your skin tight leggings. You lifted your hips, helping him to discard both your leggings and panties as quick as possible. “But, they don’t show off your ass as well as these do.”

You bit her lip at his words, your heart starting to beat even faster as Sam settled himself between your legs. The corner of his lips were pulled up into a smirk, easing your legs apart with one leg settling over his shoulder and the other over the seat with your foot planted on the ground. Sam’s gaze remained locked on yours as he scooted closer, blowing on you gently. Your head instantly fell back, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I really was turnin’ you on without even touching you, huh,” Sam said, one hand caressing your inner thigh. You merely whimpered in response, lifting your head just in time to see him dive in to your center.

A loud moan escaped your lips as he expertly dragged his tongue through her heat, feeling Sam slip one arm under your leg, keeping her close. “Shit, Sam!” You gasped in pure pleasure, lips parted and brows furrowed as you sat up on her elbows, breathlessly watching him move against you core; he knew just what to do to get you even more turned on and screaming his name. He looked up at you, groaning against you when you bit her lip and leaned your head back again. “Oh, fuck!”

He swirled his tongue through your center, circling around your clit as he fastened his pace. “You’re being more quiet than usual,” Sam said in between licks, causing you to groan at the uneven pace. “Don’t want Dean or Cas to hear how gorgeous you sound?”

“I—please, Sam,” you gasped.

“What was that?” Sam asked, lightly licking at you heat.

You panted, looking at him with desperation. “Please, Sam! Fuck!”

Sam flattened his tongue against your center to give you exactly what you wanted, seeing you close your eyes in pleasure. He got a steady movement, going faster when you started to moan louder. One of your hands reached down, tightly gripping his hair as you moved against his mouth. Sam moaned against you, nearly getting off just by watching you fall apart with only the use of his skillful tongue.

“Holy fuck,” you moaned, eyes screwed shut as you felt herself getting closer and closer. Sam could tell too, fastening his pace as you tightened your grip on his hair, a loud moan erupting from your parted lips as you arched your back. “Sam! Shit, I-I—”

“I got you, baby,” Sam said, knowing you were incredibly close. “I got you.”

With those words, you came against his mouth, your loud moans filling the Impala as Sam continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm. Your grip on his hair loosened while your hips stilled against his mouth, chest rising and falling quickly as your eyes remained closed with complete bliss.

“Holy fuck,” you said after a few moments, opening your eyes when you felt Sam crawl on top of you. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss without a second thought. He eagerly kissed you back, lowering his body so you were closer together while one of his hands traveled down between your legs.

You gasped against his mouth when his fingers slipped through you, opening your eyes to look at him. “I think it’s your turn now,” you told him, going to reach down to his pants until he shifted to sit up.

“Later,” he breathed out, starting to undo the buttons of his pants. “I just need you.”

You sat up as well, Sam’s flannel sticking to her skin even more than before, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. Your hands quickly moved to help Sam, giggling with joy as he removed his pants and boxers, kicking them off into the floor. Your eyes flickered up to his again, biting your lip. “Can I be on top?”

“Fuck yes,” Sam eagerly said, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to his lap without a moment to waist.

You giggled again, looking down at his hard member as you straddled his waist. “Someone sure is excited.”

“Hard not to be when I just watched you get off on my tongue,” Sam replied in a gruff voice, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you, not just with lust, but also pure love.

You whimpered at that, reaching down and giving him a few strokes. You watched Sam’s eyes flutter close at your gentle touch, lips parting with a breathy moan; you got turned on by his reactions just as much as Sam did with you. You shifted slightly, lining yourself up with him before slowly sinking down.

Your and Sam’s moans filled the Impala at the feeling, Sam’s hands automatically going to grip your waist as he filled you up. Sam bit his lip with anticipation, waiting for you to make sure it was okay to move before he did anything. You leaned forward slightly, planting your hands on Sam’s chiseled chest, starting to move against him as you locked eyes with him.

“Fuuuuck,” Sam groaned, his nails digging into your hips as you slid up and down. “Just like that, baby.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” you breathlessly admitted, fastening your pace. You and Sam moaned again, your nails scratching at his chest as you moved your hands up and down his body. Sam loudly groaned at the sensation, thrusting up to meet your movements, making you cry out with pleasure.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” Sam panted, his eyes rolling back as you leaned down and gave attention to his neck. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned as well, connecting your lips in a messy kiss while Sam’s thrusts got faster. “Fuck. . .” You whispered, “I love you too. . .so so fucking much.”

“Shit, Y/N,” Sam moaned as you nipped at his dampened neck, hands running up and down his abs.

“Faster, baby,” you whispered into his ear, heart beating faster as you and Sam got closer.

Sam grunted, tightening his grip on you as he picked up the pace. You started to lose her own rhythm, your hips shaking as you rode him, your orgasm growing closer and closer. “Sam, I’m. . .”

Sam lurched forward, pulling you further into his lap with your bare chest pressed against his own, the flannel pushed back and exposing your entire chest to him. His hips moved up into you as he hungrily kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours while his hands moved to cradle the back of your head.

Sam grunted, his forehead resting against yours as the Impala rocked back and forth, no doubt making it obvious what was going on inside if anyone were to enter the garage.

You meekly whimpered, feeling the knot in your stomach getting closer to finally snapping. “Sam!” You loudly moaned, many swear words and the repeat of his name getting drowned out as Sam pressed his mouth to yours again. Your hands went to his cheeks, holding him closer while Sam’s orgasm got closer and his fingers gently tugged on your hair. His hips smacked against yours faster, the sound filling the steamy Impala alongside your loud moans. You clenched around him as you came, making Sam groan into your mouth as he came seconds after you.

You pulled apart after a few moments, resting your clammy foreheads together as you finally started to catch your breaths, you still sat in Sam’s lap and his hands in your hair.

You warmly smiled as you locked eyes with Sam, his lips curling into a grin as his dimples poked out as well. “Maybe I should tease you more often, huh?” Sam asked.

You softly laughed, playfully rolling your eyes as you moved your hands to rest them on his damp shoulders. “You could, but two can play at that game, babe.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sam taunted.

You playfully narrowed your eyes, running a hand up and down one of his arms like you were in deep thought. “No, because you and I both know you would lose the first day.”

Sam breathed out a laugh, tilting his head. “Says the one who almost couldn’t wait till we were alone.”

You simply shrugged, a small smirk starting to appear on your lips. “Today I couldn’t,” you said, gently pushing him back down on the seat. Sam’s eyes slightly widened, brows raising. “But you just looked extra sexy and handsome today. You, on the other hand, can hardly keep your hands to yourself when you’re horny.”

“That’s not true,” Sam protested, going to speak again until you moved your hips, causing his head to fall back with pleasure.

You proudly smirked at his reaction, peering down at him. “Tell you what—let’s go again, and if you manage not to touch me, we can do that challenge.”

Sam breathed out a faint laugh, smirking back at you. “As long as you’re okay with not touching me. But, you and I both know that’ll be even harder for you than me.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, moving your hips again.

Sam let out a shaky breath, gazing up at you as his hands returned to your hips. “Yeah, we will.”

———

A/N: Feel free to leave some feedback or send me some requests!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal���s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[kaz11283]

Where Were You

1) Dont You Say That....Not you

31) Your Alive

10) Where Were You When I Needed You

~~~~~

Ok so this was originally an ask but I goofed and just posted the prompts. So after saving them and trying to figure out what to write for the longest I have no idea who requested this because they were anonymous (so this is for you Anon if your out there)

Characters: you x Loki

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, Loki being a slight asshat, hurt reader

Summary: You were Lokis only good thing that had happened in his life but when the hunger to rule over the kingdom gets the best of him and he fails where does that lead you? Your one love gone to never come back.

Announcement: I have been on a much needed LOA and after coming back I have been elbows deep trying to catch up woth everything going on at work. Was the trip worth it? Yes and i had some much needed time off with the fam and the babe. Would i do it again? In a heart beat. Did I miss work? Gods no but I did miss my little tumblr family that i have. So after a good bit of relaxing and my toes in the sand i am back!

I also wanna give a shout out to @high-functioning-lokipath for reading over this MULTIPULE times while I was freaking out about what to do!

Loki Masterlist

💚💚💚💚💚💚

~~~~~

"Loki!" You ran after him as he headed to the bit frost. "Please stop! You dont have to do this! You dont have to be someone that your not!"

"See that right there is the problem everyone seems to be having lately. Maybe this is who I am. Maybe this is who I want to be. After all Lady Y/n you are the one that has always told me that i could be anything I want to be. And I want to be king of Asguard." He said turning on you.

"Loki you are smarter than this! You are just upset about finding out who you truly are." You walked up to him and placed your hand on his cheek. You seen him almost give in before snapping back out of it.

"Ah yes, a frost giant? Someone who couldnt be loved by neither the family who abandoned me or the family that took me in." He spit the words at you.

"Loki, I love you. I have always loved you. You know that better than anyone." You grabbed at his emerald green cloak pulling at it causing him to turn around to face you with a cold look. You could tell that all emotion was gone at that point. You took a step away from him.

"You might love me but I have never truly loved you. You were mearly there to keep my bed warm at night" He said stepping closer to you. With the words came a cold creeping into your chest. Pain literally tore through your heart as they slowly sunk in.

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as you could causing his head to jerk to the side. "Dont you say that, Loki Odinson, dont you dare compair me to one of your whores."

"Get out of my way." He said grabbing you by the shoulders and shoving you to the side. You crumpled to the cold stone floor moving your hand to your stomach as you watched the man that you had loved your entire life walk out the front of the castle.

You wasnt really sure how long you sat there crying when you looked up you could see the sun barly peeking over the horizon and you stumbled to your feet and slowly made your way back to the room you and Loki had shared.

Pushing the door open you heard a sniffle and seen Thor sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. "Thor?" He jump up off the bed and ran to you pulling you into him.

"Lady Y/n! I didn't know what had happened to you. I thought.... I thought that he might have done something before....before." He pulled you away to look at your face.

"Before what Thor?" He turned away from you a tear trailing down his face. "Before what Thor?!" You yelled.

"He fell." Your heart sank, emptyness filled you with the darkest feeling you would have never thought possible. You stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed into it barely feeling the warmth of the fire that was slowly dying out. "I looked for you after. I couldnt find you, I thought that maybe he had done something, but I knew that he would never do anything to hurt you."

"Thor, I have to tell you something that not even Loki knew." You stared directly into the flames watching as they slowly died as the sun rose higher in the sky. "I was waiting till this was all over but now I wont get a chance to tell him." You take a deep breath and look up at him. "I'm pregnant. I am going to have his baby and he isnt even here to do this with me." You placed your head in your hands and started to cry.

"We will figure this out Lady Y/N. We cannot let father know but we can tell mother and she will help us." Thor said pulling you up from the chair and rushing from the room.

~~~~

Two years later

~~~~

You sat with your daughter in the all mothers garden waiting for your husband to arrive.

"Astrid, please dont chase the cat." You called watching her almost grab its tail. The almost two year old stopped to look back at you and giggle before taking off again. She was so much like her father with her black hair and green eyes along with her always trying to cause trouble.

"Lady Y/N, your husband will be arriving soon. He asked that you meet him in the throne room, but let one of the maids take the princess back to your living quarters." One of the guards called walking into the garden.

"She is always there to greet him when he returns. What could possibly keep him from wanting her there?" You asked as your daughter ran up to you giggling.

"Dada." She cooed clinging to your leg.

"He has brought a prisoner and he doesnt think that she should be there. He hopes that you will understand, and that once everything is said and done he will be able to spend some much needed time with his family." Your heart sank at the words prisoner. Leading Astrid to one of the ladies in waiting and kissing her head you promised you would be back soon. As you walked down the halls you could swear that you heard your heart hammering. As you opened the door to the thron room your eyes locked with Thor.

"Darling! I am so glad you are home." You said throwing your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

"I see it didnt take you long to find another prince to bed, my pet." Your blood ran cold as ice when you heard the voice from behind you. As you turned you looked at none other than Loki. Tears sprang to your eyes as you looked at him. He looked weak, thinner than you remembered almost sickly.

"I thought you died." You placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

"Seeing what has become of my once true love I wish I would have." He said looking between you and Thor.

"Loki, hold your tongue." Frigga said from across the room.

"But arent you proud mother? With me out of the way all your dreams came true it looks like." He said smirking looking back at you and Thor. You had grabbed ahold of his arm for support.

"Loki th-" The door had burst open at that point as Astrid came running to you and Thor a maid chasing behind her.

"Dada! Dada!" She threw herself into Thors arms as he picked her up.

"Hello my little love." Thor said kissing her and tickling her with his beard causing her to giggle. Loki stood observing, watching everything take place. He wasnt blind to the black hair that she had or the mischievous gint in her eye that he also had.

"Wow, stricking resemblance brother. She looks just like you." He grined looking between you and Thor.

"Loki, shut up." Thor said handing your daughter to you. "Why dont you take Astrid back to our quarters and I shall be there in a moment." He said kissing the top of your head.

"How sweet brother, a girl who simply rolls from one bed to another, and now a built in family. The girl must be about two now? How absolutly interesting."

You sat Astrid down next to Thor and walked over to the man that use to mean everything to you and stood right in front of him. "You, Loki Odinson, do not need to look, breath, or assume anything. Not towards my daughter."

"Interesting use of words dear my-" he was cut off by a sharp slap across the face.

"Come darling. Lets get you in the bath." You said opening your arms, your daughter running into them.

After you have made sure all the dirt was washed from her and she was nesseled into your bed nice and warm you sat by the fire with tears streaming down your face when Thor finally entered the room looking exhausted.

"Let me help you take your armor off. There is a warm bath for you also. Make sure the dirt is all off before climbing into bed, those are clean sheets." You stood walking over to him and undoing the straps that held his chest plate on.

"What did I do to deserve this kindness from you?" He asked placing his finger under your chin making you look up at him.

"You took me in, loved me after your brother couldnt, you have helped me raise a child that is not your but you let her call you dad. Me and my child both think the world of you Thor and honestly I couldnt imagine it without you in my life." You placed a hand on his cheek and brought him down to kiss him.

He leaned his head agintst yours and sighed. "You must go talk to my brother. He is down in the cells."

"What if I dont want to? What if I want to keep this happy little bubble that we have created?" A tear rolled down your cheek.

"If not for you or me, go talk to him for her." He said motioning over to Astrid who was snorring lightly in the middle of the bed. "I will look over her. For tonight and for always, it doesnt matter what happens tonight I will always love both you and her. And I know you will love me to but not as much as you have loved my brother." You were both crying now, you had decided two years prior that you would give this man what was left of your heart because the love of your life was gone but now? Now you were torn between the safty of being with Thor and the uncertainty of if Loki could ever love you the way he had before.

You kissed Thor on the cheek again making him promise to take a bath before going to bed causing him to laugh. "Yes I promise. Now go before I decide to keep you here with me." He handed you your dark blue cloak and shoved you out of the room.

Silently you made your ways to the dungeons under the castle not being noticed by anyone at this time of night, you pulled the hood up as not to be spotted by any of the other prisoners.

"I was wondering if you was going to make an apperance Y/N." Loki said, he was facing away from you his hands placed behind his back. "You've made quite the impression on my brother. Such a good impression that you two are married. Tell me dear is he as good as I was?" He asked turning to finally face you. You stood there shocked.

"Loki," you looked up at him. "This is not the time nor place for talk like that. I came here to ask what happened to you? I thought you had died."

"So you crawl in bed with my brother?!" He yelled hitting the shield between you and him with his fist.

"So I married your brother to save not only me but our daughter!" His jaw dropped at the admission. "Oh dont act so suprised. I know you know that she is yours. For norms sake she has your hair."

"I never thought you would admit it."

"I cant hide it Loki. Your mother is the one that came up with the plan for me to marry Thor."

"I bet father loved the fact that you were pregnant before the wedding." He said rolling his eyes.

"Odin would have killed us if he knew the secret!" You yelled, fire in your eyes. "Its not like you were around to protect us, to keep us safe. Your daughter has magic and is part Jötunn." He froze staring at you wide eyed. "Where were you Loki! Where were you when I needed you? When we needed you?" You screamed at him tears running down your face.

Neither of you had noticed Thor or Frigga talking to the guard in the shadows, neither of you had realized that the shield keeping Loki in his cell had been dropped until Loki had actually reached for you yanking you to his body. You clung to him like if you let go he would disappear all over again. You buried your face in his neck, his hair tickling your face as you felt his pulse aginst your lips for the first time in a long time. His hand was at the base of your neck as his face was buried in your hair, you felt his tears land on your cheek. He pulled back from you, both hands now on the side of your face as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

"I promise on all nine realms y/n I will never leave you or my daughter again. I promise that i will never leave you alone, I will always be there as I should have been in the begining of it all. You should not have had to go through alone." He leaned forward kissing you. You melted into the kiss, it had been forever since you had felt so connected with anyone like this. His lips were cool aginst yours as you both moved in perfect sync batteling for dominace over the other finally you gave into him. You pulled away slightly out of breath.

"I wasn't alone, I knew that I had a peice of you with me and i knew I wasnt alone at all. I knew you would come back. You always come back." You smiled at him.

"For you my queen, always." He said pulling you into his arms again whispering words of love.

Tag List:

@high-functioning-lokipath

@serpentargo

@drbaureid

@poetic-fiasco

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@rosaline-black

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@natandersonnla

@delightfulheartdream

[rjhpandapaws]

I'm sending in a prompt. I'm gonna say reverse AU, Reed900. Word: Jealousy

 //I haven't done a reverse au before so I hope you like it!

“Green suits your eyes better than your complexion.” Allen, the AL500 model remarked as he followed Gavin’s line of sight to where Richard was speaking to a pretty red head named North, “Go talk to him. The revolution is over, we have rights, tell him how you feel.” “Easy for you to say, Silas was all over you the moment we were declared sentient. Richard hasn’t spoken to me outside of work, nothing has changed.” Gavin remarked. “You deviate saving a guy’s life and this is the thanks you get.” A forlorn sigh came from behind him, it was one of the Arkait twins, but unless he wanted to turn away from watching Richard, he wouldn’t know which one until they spoke. “He might not know you’re deviant. Your behavior hasn’t exactly changed, you know.” Connor remarked as he moved into Gavin’s periphery, “Have either of you seen Hank?” “Neither has his Connor. You and Silas both relaxed around us, but he hasn’t. He’s still keeping me at arms length.” Gavin responded, “And no I haven’t seen him yet.” “Go talk to him then. Clearly this standing and brooding thing isn’t gonna get you answers.” Connor shoved him forward, “I’m going to go look for Hank.” Gavin flipped off Connor’s retreating figure and let out an unneeded breath in the form of an exasperated sigh. “Fine, but when this doesn’t work I’m putting salt in his coffee.”

He detoured to the buffet to grab a drink for Richard so he would have something to fall on if that damned red head was still there. The bitterness that had been simmering just beneath his synthskin came back with a vengeance and settled into his code, or at least it felt that way. He grabbed a can of Diet Coke since that was what Richard liked. He made his way over and found that yes, North was still there. “Good evening Gavin.” North greeted with an amicable smile, “Enjoying the galla?” “Honestly no.” He nodded toward North before he turned his attention toward Richard. “I brought you a soda.” Richard smiled at him, it wasn’t the work smile, but it also wasn’t a genuine one. Richard was uncomfortable, “Thanks Gavin.” He said as he took the soda. Gavin tried to think of an excuse to get Richard out of here. Since he was relatively sure it was the large gathering that was making the detective uncomfortable. He came up blank. It was a rewards ceremony so they couldn’t just leave, and encouraging Richard to go out for a smoke after encouraging him to quit would undo all the work he had done. Which left him in a tight spot. What could be done? What was a viable excuse to get time alone with him.

^Unit stress level at 75% Initiate Stasis?  Y/N N Stasis protocol overridden

“-vin? Gavin?” Richard was staring at him with concern when Gavin came back to himself, “You’re LED his red are you alright?” He didn’t give him a chance to answer before he turned to North, “We’re gonna step out for a bit, we should be back before speeches start.” With that he pulled Gavin toward the hallway. His LED which he had just gotten back to blue went red again. Allen gave him a thumbs up and Gavin flipped him off. Richard didn’t stop until they were outside. He pulled Gavin in front of him and looked him over as though he was checking for inquires. Gavin was fine, physically at least. His new emotions were still going haywire. “What’s wrong? You’re on red again.” Richard asked, his masks had fallen away. The detective was gone, in his place was a concerned friend. Gavin didn’t know what to do with that.

^Unit stress level at 80%. If Unit stress exceeds 95% Stasis will initiate automatically. Contact Administrative User: Richard Arkait to override

Gavin blinked the notification away, “I’m just struggling with where I stand with you.” He started honestly, “Deviancy comes with so may things I never had to deal with before. Feelings for one, and then finding ways to deal with them when they take over everything and blindside me.” “What do you mean? We’re friends, and you’re one of the few coworkers I can tolerate that isn’t my brother.” Richard’s brows furrowed making his confusion evident. “That isn’t it!” Gavin snapped. Richard flinched at the sudden outburst and Gavin struggled to collect himself. He took another unneeded breath and let it out slowly, “Whenever I see you with anyone else I get mad and I don’t know why. Its so bad I get preconstructions for how to best get you out of the situation and some of them are needlessly violent and I can’t stop them. I don’t know what to do about it.”

^Unit stress at 90% If Unit stress exceeds 95% stasis will initiate automatically. Contact Administrative User: Richard Arkait to override

“So you’re jealous?” Richard sounded like he was about to laugh, “Gavin you have no reason to be jealous. You’re just as much my friend as they are.” Friend. There was that word again. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what Gavin wanted. He grit his teeth against the wave of anger and jealousy, now that it had a name he was more aware of it. “What if I don’t want to be friends?” He pressed, treading carefully. “What if I want more than that? What if I- God, this was going better in my head...” He resigned himself to the inevitable punch, and pulled Richard down for a kiss. It was really more crashing their faces together, but it was the best he could do in his panic. He pulled away after a moment. “What  if I want that?” Richard smiled and pulled him in for a proper kiss, “Then all you needed to do was ask.”

@pinkwebby

( Prompt from this list)

[sofreddie]

Serendipitous Souls 11

Summary: The brothers find out what's been causing deaths.

Characters: Dean, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,280

A/N: More plot. Because this story decided to just do its own thing.

Dean cursed under his breath as he struggled against his bindings. He and Sam had come a few minutes before, realizing they were tied to chairs, arms tied behind them, ankles tied to the chair legs.

The woman - a witch they had assumed - was living in the hotel’s penthouse suite. They had figured out she was inducing lust - though they hadn’t pinned down how - and feeding off of the sexual energy produced during the lust-fueled marathons. But they also weren’t sure why, to what end.

Deciding that where and what she was was enough, they proceeded with the hunt. Unfortunately, she was expecting them and knocked them out quickly with a flick of her wrist.

“You’re awake,” the woman’s voice chirped happily. The brother’s heads snapped up simultaneously as they looked forward at the woman now standing before them. She was pretty, with a manically happy smile and demeanor and a well-fitted golden and gilded gown, “I was expecting you.”

“I noticed,” Dean huffed, tugging on his restraints for emphasis.

“I’m such a big fan of you Winchesters,” she grins, and her smile gets brighter when she sees that look cross their faces, “Oh yeah. I’ve been tracking you as long as God has. Since your souls were created.”

She sat in a comfy armchair facing them, crossing her legs and settling her gown. She interlocked her fingers and rested her hands atop her crossed knees, smiling between them once more. She looked somewhere between an adoring fan and proud mother. It made the brothers cringe.

“And…who are you exactly?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I’m The Caretaker,” she said, a hand upon her chest as she introduced herself, before resting her hands together once more, “Or at least I was,” her brow furrowed and she pouted. It was the first time she showed anything other than utter happiness. She shook her head and that bright smile was back on her face once more.

“See, once upon a time-”

“Ugghhh,” Dean groaned dramatically, letting his head roll back before meeting her eyes once more, “Why do they always monologue?” he groaned, looking over at Sam as if he was in genuine pain. Sam snorted and shook his head, before turning his attention back to her.

“I love when you do that,” she suddenly spoke and they looked at her curiously, “The silent communication thing,” she clarified, pointing between them, “I mean, I know you ‘covered’ it with whatever that was,” she sighed, “Just listen, okay?” she grinned again, as if nothing had transpired and they were just friends having tea and gossiping.

Minus the part where she’s apparently awesome at knot tying and managed to pick them clean of every possible hidden pick or knife they could have.

“Where was I?” she said, humming in thought with a finger on her chin, “Oh yes! Once upon a time, God was in the cosmos banging out souls at his workshop. As he made the many souls, he needed a place to store them until they could be born into being. So they were held in a sort of Soul Nursery until their time. It was my job to take care of the souls there.”

“The Caretaker,” Sam nodded, “Makes sense. What does this have to do with us?”

She sighed dreamily, “I saw every Sam and Dean he ever made come through there. I knew each and every one was important. To Him at least,” she said with a smile, “I talked to all the souls - nurturing, you know - and I had such high hopes for all the Sams and Deans,” she sighed once more, this time a little sad with a shake of her head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dean huffed a laugh.

“I got the broken souls too,” she continued, “If they broke while he made them he threw them out. I had to dispose of them. He didn’t like broken souls at all, you understand,” she pressed and the brothers nodded, “So, one time, I was checking on the souls as part of my duties,” she said, growing nervous and squirming as she started darting her eyes. Dean knew something bad was coming.

She let out a huff of breath, “So I came across you two and was just checking in, you know. And I’m not sure what happened, b-but both the souls fell,” she was lost in recalling it and the brothers started squirming at her tale too, “A chip broke off of each-”

“You broke our souls?” Sam gasped out, like suddenly everything made so much more sense, “Seriously?!” he growled, tugging at his restraints again.

“I tried to fix it!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat and shouting back, “But the pieces wouldn’t go back together. The souls were still viable and I didn’t want Him to throw them out. So I just put them back and I kept the pieces. I was hoping I could figure something out,” she defended desperately. Dean was pretty sure she’d had this argument before.

“Then what happened?” Dean asked, needing to know the rest of the story. Sam was huffing beside him, his anger getting the better of him.

“Then you were born,” she said to Dean, “Your soul took off like it’s meant to. But the shard, it was still with me but it was lit up,” she said with bright eyes and awe, “Then when Sam was born, his piece lit up,” she continued, “I was examining them when they suddenly shot together and fused and, a-and…it became a new soul,” she breathed out, reliving the moment, “So I ran, and I told Him.” she shook her head, slowly sitting back in her seat, right on the edge, “He wasn’t happy about it. He left your souls alone since you were born already. He was gonna destroy the new soul, but he decided it might be useful. So he tucked it away where no one would know where it is or what had happened. Then he cast me out.”

Dean was in shock, trying to take in what she’d said. Luckily, Sam’s anger seemed to keep him more on track.

“How does any of that have to do with what you’re doing here?” Sam growled at her accusingly.

“Because as The Caretaker, I was powered by the life force of the souls. Without their connection, I can’t feed off of life force directly. Sexual energy is the next best thing, and it produces enough to sustain me, usually,” she shook her head, “These last few didn’t have the energy or stamina to withstand my feeding and they died.”

“That’s why there was one survivor,” Sam mumbled to himself and she nodded.

“He was the only one who had the stamina to take it.”

Dean snorted, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m glad you found her,” she said meekly and both brothers sobered at the comment, “What happened was an accident. And her existence was an accident. But it was the first case of soulmates,” she explained dreamily, “And I later learned that He started experimenting with breaking souls and creating soulmates after the accident. And then I guess he just decided sending angels to zap ‘em together was more efficient.”

“It really is a cosmic joke,” Dean mumbled to himself, but Sam heard clear enough. The defeat and sadness in his brother’s tone.

She let out a long sigh, “So I guess this is the part where you kill me, right?” she said, flicking her wrist and undoing their bindings, “I didn’t mean to kill them. But I understand what you do,” she relented with another sigh as the brothers stretched out their aching muscles and exchanged a long look.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Serendipitous Souls:

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@xhannahbananax03

@440mxs-wife

@crist1216

@deans-baby-momma