русский князь

Astrobleme | Flashback.

The girl cackled, and it was as blissful as those laughs she would share in secrecy when she was just a child and she had just done something very, very bad like a hilarious joke at someone else’s expenses or powdering the inside of her grandmother’s blow drier so it all exploded in a dry blizzard when she turned it on. But wasn’t it just such a fitting analogy? What she was doing was a joke at the bratva’s expenses, three quarters of her closest friends and acquaintances had perished under the russian’s command, those that had actually stayed, and she was there with the man she had described so blatantly as their future king. But was he, even? Would he still possess a kingdom to rule over, and army to dispose of once it was all handed down to him? Vanessa hated herself for wondering those things in such an inappropiate moment, but the bratva’s future was her future too, and if she was to continue this affair of theirs, it would do nothing but becoming more and more of her concern until she found herself signing her checks as Vanessa Vorshevsky.

Shut. The fuck. Up – she shouted at herself mentally, on the outside she couldn’t remain more unbothered and tranquil, last thing either of them needed was to listen to her rambles and get terrified before the idea of the sweet ‘nothings’ they told to one another the past night. In her legitimate defense, those promises were worthless if they were uttered between hip-rocking and moaning. Yes, that is exactly what she wanted to believe. Yet there she was, leading him to the kitchen holding him by the hand like they were two kids sneaking out the backyard to climb up a tree house. “Good luck going home with a shirt soaked on girly perfume, so tough and stone cold”

Vanessa then started pulling out the necessary ingredients to make waffles, toasts and scrambled eggs. After pushing him onto a chair from the small isle looking counter top she used to cook and to eat if she was in a rush “I just had the best idea…” she told him.

“This was the worst idea”

Okay so the waffles were neat, she had to give him credit for spread butter over the waffle maker before he put the mix but Mikhail had pushed her by the elbow ‘accidentally’ and a bunch of mix had spilled over the counter, she got to clean it after he tried to ‘help’ but she didn’t understand how dipping the toasty bits that popped out of the waffle maker into a jar of Nutella was ‘helping’.

“Mikhail, no…” she said for the millionth time, “Don’t do that! Mik–!” nice. Now the strawberries too. “Save some for later, dammit”

#vanessa #in which we learn that hungry misha is unbearable

“I’m sure my manliness will be able to cope with that one minor perfumed setback,” Mikhail chuckled, brows perking up in curiosity once he had realised her hand to let her gather what seemed like a wild disarray of ingredients he didn’t think would be needed considering all he had in mind for breakfast, as previously arranged, was leftover cake but ostensibly, there had been a change of plans. To say he was ecstatic about that, just as convinced that this was indeed the best idea would be fabricated to say the least but the excitement in Vanessa’s voice had him hold his tongue, not having the heart to discourage her.

He really wasn’t a bad cook, even less so if he got to cook on his own without anyone else messing with his doings but after a certain amount of time, hunger made him, well, a bit grumpy. Perhaps one could say it turned him into a bit of a pissy child at times although he tried his best to contain that more or less successfully. But after a good ten minutes with no food in sight but a lot of scolding instead, he couldn’t refrain from sighing dramatically. “Later as in once we’ve all died of starvation?” He mocked, pulling the brunette closer to face him by the fabric of his stolen shirt. “Look, this could have been a great idea,” he began softly, absently unbuttoning the top few buttons as he spoke to uncover a set of prominently tinted marks he was particularly fond of, “but, you know, I would have been just as content with the original plan of no wait and just cake.” Even just the word made his mouth water at this point.

“I’m sorry but doesn’t stressless breakfast like that just sound a million times better than inducing food coma right after getting up and wearing one’s self right out again?” Pouting slightly, he took her hands in his again. He really should have stopped her straight away instead of letting this mess unravel all over her kitchen counter when he wasn’t even likely to stomach everything she had in mind so early in the morning, being used to a morning cigarette which he craved rather desperately after 12 hours of no nicotine and some lazily prepared snack he could get his hands on without further ado.

“How about--” His lips were lightly pressed to her forehead. “I clean up that mess, you make those scrambled eggs in the meantime and we just start this off with that before we devour half of your groceries? Please before we rightfully starve,” he begged playfully.

A hiss, that’s a good sign, means he was at least a little surprised by her cheeky gesture. Or perhaps he was catching some air in sharply for she had bothered him amidst his shootout drill, either way she stared at him at least halfheartedly amused. But she could feel those cheeks rising and God, that could only mean he had a smug plasttered on his face – at times she had a hard time telling how he could keep that amused face at all times. She wanted to slap it, right off, if possible. Vanessa felt herself shivering when he looked at her, both none of them flinched with the dry and strident cacophony of the shots. One after the other.

The bastard hadn’t missed a single one. There it was, a perfectly straight line. Now – not to say she fond the gesture rather arousing, her bewilderment was outshining the faint yet palpable feeling – she was extremely curious on the training methods that had turn him into a decent gunman. He was definitely better than many she had done, but she wouldn’t let the hot air fill his head since the barrel was stock still. She would have to see him firing at two ghouls with a single shot and a wounded limb to be entirely impressed. She cocked her head, appreciating the – fuck – perfect straight line he had painted over the barrel.

“Nice job, nice job” she noted looking unimpressed but sounding the opposite, “I’ll have you know the last time I did that to a guy that was trying to do the very same thing you just did… he shot himself on the foot” Vanessa sighed and gave him a gallic shrug “I am far more pleased with you keeping yourself together over melting. Far more pleased, indeed”

#vanessa #private #aca-scuse me u kno u luv me byeeee #short af bc words are still kind of like ??? who dis ???

“Hold up, so that’s a thing you try on various guys? Way to make me feel special if you waste your energy on the kind that is impressionable enough to actually shoot themselves in the foot. I can only hope that one was a complete beginner.” Rolling his eyes, he set the gun down for it was in need of being reloaded, a task he would be taking upon him shortly. “Well, I would hope this had you impressed if your expectations were that painstakingly low. You may be distractive...” Turning to face her fully, Mikhail reached for her arms and gently pulled her closer, his voice becoming huskier. “But you’re not distractive enough to make me mess up my specialty.” She was informed with a cocky grin.

“But you didn’t actually expect me to fail at this task, did you? You can’t possibly think that lowly of me.” Naturally, she couldn’t or he might just have to feel at least the slightest bit offended. Better late than never. Hands moved from her upper arms to the small of her back. “Is there anything else you’d like to see or are you free of doubts by now?” He asked with sickening innocence. “I wouldn’t want you to think you’re dating someone who doesn’t even know how to do his job correctly.”

shir-mizrahi:

It´s scientifically proven that people who use and understand sarcasm have a higher I.Q. My thesis is supported by science, and thus far, no one has been able to convince me that I´m wrong. Let´s take pity on those less blessed and try not to embarrass them often. Now that I think about it, it must be bad, not to be a member of our club, but then again, they wouldn’t understand even if it slapped them in the face. So no harm done.

Alright, if it’s scientifically backed up, I don’t think anyone in their right mind should have the guts to protest -- but then again, I’m sure no one in their right mind would anyhow. We should take pity on them and be gentle with them. It must be hard to be among the less fortunate. Or well, maybe it really isn’t. Oblivion can be a blessing, right? They probably have a lot less to worry about than us, the blessed intelligent crowd. Sometimes being a bit of a fool might just be the better way to live your life.

#shir #bro they could be the bestest of friends #if onlyyyy

aamelianeveu-blog

“Well, then let’s just go with good ol’ Britney. A classic, some may say.” Amelia replied nervously. It wasn’t like her to burst out in song, especially in public. Amelia belted out the lyrics to the chorus hoping she wasn’t embarrassing herself too much.

“A classic in its own way, surely.” Mikhail nodded, keeping his expression thoroughly sympathetic. Again, he counted down to three, pleasantly surprised that both of them kept their promise and the blonde hadn’t left him to sing on his own for, well, he wasn’t the worst singer but his voice wasn’t exactly meant for Britney. He had certainly picked material that would give her at least a slight advantage. “Okay, come on, that’s what you call so bad not even a mother could love it?” Laughing, he shook his head. “I mean, no offense, you’re probably not going to be discovered as the next Whitney Houston but that’s far from the worst singing voice I’ve ever heard. You should give yourself a little more credit instead of making me expect the absolute worst.”

#amelia

shir-mizrahi:

That was the best compliment I received all day. The correct word should not be sarcasm, it denotes a certain negativity, instead I like to call it a higher form of intelligence. Words are just words, sarcasm is only sarcasm for those who can understand it.

A higher form of intelligence, you say? Oh, I like that a lot. No term employed to describe this fine art form have a negative connotation to it but the outsiders just try as hard as they can to make sarcasm leave a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth, don’t they? It’s true, it’s like an inside joke -- one I’d be furious to miss out on. I don’t even want to imagine how hard life must be if you have no sense for it whatsoever.

#shir

racheldarrow-blog

Mister Alcoholic. Her eyebrows were tempted to quirk up at that nickname, but she pulled herself together, managing not to let show in her expression how utterly lame she thought it was. “Well, you seem like quite the gentleman, Mr. Vorshevsky. I’m sure it wouldn’t bother you too much what someone like Mr. Alcoholic over there-” Cringe. “thought of you.”

The game proceeded, and losing a bit of money seemed to have caused the Russian to rely more on Zoe’s suggestions, which she was thankful for. That way, she could actually help him win a nice amount this time, not that she thought he was in dire need of money - it was just nice to win. At least, it was for her, but Katarina’s brother didn’t seem quite as susceptible to the joys of gambling. “It’s alright.” The brunette quickly brushed his apology, sincere or not, off, already partly regretting having made a fuss about it to begin with. “I’ve come across a fair share of shady people, yes.” A curt nod and a brief glance into the Russian’s eyes. “I’m sorry - are you enjoying yourself at all? You don’t have to stay if you’re not.”

“No, not at all.” A dismissive shake of his head. “There are only a selected few whose opinion I value greatly and I’m sure he could never meet the requirements. If I was so hung up on the public’s flawed perception of me, I probably would have had to put a bullet through my head ages ago.” A rather harsh statement he regretted wording like this almost immediately. That surely wasn’t the usual small talk one was expected to indulge in when gambling with a Lucky Seven girl but alas, here he went, always sure to bring the carefree mood with him.

Then again, Mikhail probably simply didn’t happen to be cut out for gambling, a mindless pass-time in his opinion. For some reason, the prospect of winning merely sparked his interest. If anything, it was the only thing that kept it from being completely senseless. Perhaps he only felt this way because he had never had to worry about money during his upbringing -- he wouldn’t know but it might be worth giving this issue more thought later. “Hard not to in this city, isn’t it?” Something about her, though he couldn’t point his finger on what it was, had him convinced that she wasn’t at all exaggerating when she employed the term ‘a fair share’. The temptation to inquire further was torturous but he had probably proven to be poor enough of a client already with that suicide statement and thus he forced himself to keep his thoughts to himself this time. “Oh no, it’s fine, really. Do I seem like I’m not enjoying myself? It must be merely because I’m, you know, learning. Which I probably should considering gambling seems to be so accepted in certain social circles.”

#zoe

{Private}{Flashback} Saved (Mikhail and Kira)

Kira’s eyebrows knitted together, already cautious as to what Mikhail was starting toward. If she could punch him in the shoulder without consequence to herself she would have. “He wasn’t cute to begin with. I mean me on the other hand..there goes all that potential suitors knocking down my door,” she joked lightly. “Probably. Maybe it will turn out fine.” She wasn’t entirely sure of that, but she also was still a bit on edge about the entire situation. “Good. I’ll make up some cool story instead if anyone asks what happened”

“Well... yeah, but he had charisma. There’s your similarity. You’ll be fine because of that. And hey, at the very least, it might make your mom lay off on the husband pursuit a bit,” Mikhail chuckled, quick to reassure her yet again. “I’m sure it will. Don’t even worry about it now. You just focus on the healing process, not on what will be left afterwards.” His brows were raised in curiosity and perhaps the slightest bit of silent judgement. Some cool story, she said. He could only imagine what she would come up with there. “Okay, that’s fine with me. I’ll try my best to be as silent as a grave -- and you know I’m usually very good at that.” He would be as long as a certain person wouldn’t get inquisitive.. God, how he hoped she wouldn’t. Luckily, his expression didn’t give his thoughts away. “But don’t make it too crazy, alright? It has to be believable too,” he teased.

#kira

So Kira was prone to find out about that situation sooner rather than later; that wasn’t a good thing. At least not to her, Vanessa would have kept it secret for as long as she was capable of doing so. She didn’t want audience, she didn’t want someone to see her trip and fall or what was even worse, someone seeing both of them tripping and falling. For each other, onto the floor. Same thing. If making her feel like a third wheel was implied in that situation she would probably feel as guilty as she would possibly feel, at the end of the day she was human. A petty human.

Vanessa eyed what she had before her, empty space a few feet before her spreading almost like a bowling alley. Bottles piled up, empty barrels, cut-outs of rather human forms made out of tin, all of them in different positions, scales and distances: she found the one she wanted. The barrel positioned over a wooden bar, it was right on the center in relation with where Mikhail was standing, easy shot.

She smirked wickedly. As though she would make things easy for him!

“Don’t you worry, I will…” she foresaw as she spoke innocently, “Aim that barrel at the center, I want you to draw a straight line with the bullets. A straight one, can you do it?” Vanessa expected a smug from his end saying how couldn’t possibly not do such an easy thing. At the end of the day he was one of the few people as good handling guns as she was. Half genetics, half talent. But – when aimed for the first shot, she got closer as though she was just examinating his aiming, which she partially was. Focused yet so oblivious, Vanessa placed her left hand over his right cheek as though she was going to make him face her but she didn’t push onto any direction. She simply used it for support as she went up and placed a firm kiss on his sensitive pulse, not hesitating in sucking a bit over the hot skin.

“Don’t lose focus”

#vanessa #private #ok but y r we like dis #i'm so done like ????

So much for making it interesting. Her choice was abhorrently easy for him to pull off and it might have left a part of him wondering if she was that oblivious of his skills and underestimating him this greatly. Could that possibly be the case? His ego wanted to doubt it rather desperately. Green eyes looked down on her in silent amusement, seemingly asking her if she was actually serious. She seemed to be.

“Alright, a straight line for the lady. Vertical, I figure? Or would you at least like to chase me around a bit and try a horizontal one?” Certainly not, the barrel wasn’t exactly cut out for that; he wouldn’t be able to use up all his ammunition if they opted for option number two. Alas, time for the easy task then that would all-in-all be very underwhelming for he could not for the life in him see her being fascinated with something as simple as this.

Eyes left her and fixed on his target, the gun locked and ready, every fibre of his being twitching to finally pull the trigger again after all these weeks -- but suddenly, in she went with the twist to the task she must have had in mind all along. Inhaling sharply, for she had caught him off guard, he took a moment to collect himself, a sly grin tugging the corners of his lips upwards the second he had. “I wouldn’t dream of losing focus, darling,” he purred with utmost innocence, eyeing her once more from the corners of his eyes. “I could have my eyes closed--” The first shot was fired, his voice having grown lower in volume. “And your tongue down my throat--” Another shot. “And I’d still give you--” Another one. “That straight line you asked for.”

Three more and the requested geometrical masterpiece was complete. Lowering the gun again, Mikhail stepped back, turning to the brunette beside him again. “If you want to challenge me, please don’t give me a beginners’ task next time.”

Astrobleme | Flashback.

“Learn to lurk a little better, we’re killers you can’t afford not to be sneaky…” she joke, the arms that had been around him wrapped around the arm she was pressed against as though it was a pillow and placed a soft kiss upon his shoulder. So he was truly there, she wasn’t suffering from some severely hallucinations sponsored by the Czech Vodka – that goddamned vodka, at last they had killed the bottle and all that was left were other three she wasn’t looking forward to open too soon – Vanessa closed her eyes again just by routine, getting used to the idea of participating in the real world before she could find herself out of the bed or in their case, out of her stolen carpet.

God, she was acting like a teenager. She sat up a little breaking apart from his embrace, blanket wrapped around her torso, not like she was feeling shy but, looking down at it would have made her feel like she was pushing boundaries they had already pushed. She listened to him carefully, finding in him the most entertaining thing she had ever since, that was adorable as sickening as she would find it later if they happened not to work. Aaaand that let her to recall those conversations they had the previous night. She fucking coerced him into saying ‘I love you’ in russian just to see if he would be capable of doing such. She was sick, he was crazy.

“Hum, is this your oh so subtle way to tell me you’re hungry? I wouldn’t blame you, though, I believe all I did was feeding you cake and truffles last night…” she took a pause and frowned as though she was struggling to remember “…among other things”

The brunette laughed and uncovered herself, she hadn’t thought that through. Now she was bare and her clothes were spread across the floor – the image made her smirk, she wasn’t going to lie and say she wasn’t feeling pretty fucking smug. Vanessa found her underwear and slide into it, next thing that came to her sight was the unbottoned shirt lying lifeless over one of her sofas, she didn’t break eye contact when she put it on, doing the buttons from bottom to top slowly.

“Alright, then…” she sighed loudly “Put something on and come help!”

#vanessa #oh please it's fine #as long as you're giving my glorious shirtless gifs purpose i'm overjoyed

“Well, I wasn’t aware I had to be so on guard around you,” Mikhail chuckled, obviously relieved that she seemed to have no intentions of pretending last night had been nothing more than a slip up – never mind that it would have been a rather big slip up. How relaxed she was finally eased his own mind, his lips finding her forehead. Perhaps they could forget about the cake again, what a foolish thing to bring up anyhow, and just stay on the carpet for a little while longer until the sunlight would become too bothersome or they could no longer ignore other needs anymore.

But alas, it was evidently too late to back out of his request now. “Among other things, yeah.” Chuckling, he released her to sit up a little more. “The truffles and the cake might just be the last things I’m associating with last night to be perfectly honest.” He had much more vivid memories of different tastes and different acts than eating sweets, a fact that probably spoke for breakfast being very necessary.

It would be an utmost blatant lie if he was to claim that he didn’t enjoy the view she offered, subtly glancing as opposed to openly staring but taking in the sights nonetheless. Seeing her in his shirt was almost too satisfying, without a doubt something he could get used to in no time and frankly, if he had brought anything else to change into, he would have been very inclined to let her keep it for good. Chewing on his lip, he only snapped out of his train of thought once her command reached his eardrums.

“What, I’m not even getting breakfast in-- on the carpet bed? Aren’t you quite the host...” His tone was thoroughly playful, followed by a dramatic sigh as he got up to collect his boxers from pretty much the opposite end of the carpet. “And you’ve left me with as good as nothing to put on either.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically once he was at least in his underwear, stepping closer to collect his pants.

“You’re lucky you look so good in my shirt you’re putting me to shame.” Finally dressed from the waist down, he had reached her side, ready to follow to the kitchen -- not that he was certain he would find its location on his own. “If only I didn’t have to ask for it back later.”

Damn him, he truly knew what to do to make her question her own actions. Unless it never did work for her to change such, instead she would roll her pretty eyes at him – something she kept herself from doing at that time – yet she had known him for long enough to taste the cockiness in his words as though he had pressed her to the wall and ravished her lips right there. He was growing entitled, it seemed like it was yesterday he was borrowing his jacket to her to make himself look good; he hadn’t changed a bit, time only knew.

“The only reason why I repeat myself so much is because I am used to stubborn ears.. And Kira has got quite a pair, do tell her when you think is right, lying to her kills me.” she retorted walking closer towards him, hand resting over the rim of the table were she had all of the guns on display, the tin silhouettes she had shot at looked like a strainer with all of the holes she had given to them, yet nothing would make her feel as good as taking a shot at a breathing being would have. “…Last thing we need is to think I honeydicked my way in, it would take away my credibility which I need if I want to be a role model for our new assassins, I don’t want them to be brutes. But smart. You can give them all of the gore but you might as well know how to hide the blood stains around their diamond chokers and silk napkins. As they wouldn’t like to think their king is that easy to manipulate. I know mine isn’t…”

Vanessa placed a gun upon his hand, eyes glued to his in curiosity. If what she was doing was training and his excuse to visit her was to supervise her, he could easily prove what he could do, himself.

“Let’s see how rusty you are”

“That she does -- or else I would have told you about her... state. Which I probably should have regardless,” he muttered apologetically, biting his lip. Not that he would have lied to her if she had asked him about Kira. Every promise had its limits. “Wait -- I get to tell her when I think the time is right?” Her statement was repeated as if to double check. “Well, you should probably brace yourself for that being soonish then.” At least if Kira was even in the mood to hear anything about his life now all things considered.

Naturally, she had a very valid point yet he still couldn’t wipe that godforsaken smug grin off his face. Of course she hadn’t truly honeydicked her way in; she possessed the required skills for the job, something that these kinds of girls usually lacked by default. However, in a rather insignificant way, she still had. Granted, Austin’s departure’s impeccable timing was also on her side now but that aside, she had surely managed to secure her desired positions earlier now than she would have otherwise. Mikhail valued her enough as an employee that he would have easily given her a few tasks without thinking twice but already entrusting her with the responsibilities and letting her prove herself capable of handling them that way was a different story. “Of course not. It would take a lot for you to still manipulate me without me seeing through what you’re trying to do. If you do manage to, it’ll be because I wanted you to,” he noted innocently, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ve got a good feeling about this. Try it your way.”

Eyes on the gun she had handed him with almost charming nonchalance, he chuckled wholeheartedly. “I could never get rusty in that regard.” Languidly, he checked the magazine. “Tell me what you want me to aim for.” The safety clicked in anticipation as he positioned himself. “But please make it interesting.”

#vanessa #private

racheldarrow-blog

She’d anticipated his reaction to losing the sum he had lost with a bad feeling in her gut. What she expected ranged from glowering sideglances and angrily hissed threats to full on temper tantrums that included him walking away from the table after blaming her for getting him into this. None of that, coming from a Russian mobster who surely had to be arrogant enough to think the world was at his feet, would have surprised her. What did surprise her was the fact that he handled his bruised ego with nothing more than a faux pout and a joke, when she had been bracing herself for a storm.

“You implied that I needed your advice in the first place, which, with all due respect, I don’t,” she returned quietly as the dealer placed new cards on the table. “This isn’t my first day in this job nor in this city, and this isn’t the only man who’s holding a grudge or blaming a Lucky Seven girl for his gambling addiction. If you want to get your money back, now is the time to raise.” Realizing that maybe her tone was too offputting considering who she was talking to, she quickly ended the last sentence with a bashful smile. “Would you like me to get you a drink? My apologies, I completely forgot to ask.”

#zoe #pleaseee #maybe if he didn't waste so much time trying to decode people's life stories he'd actually be good at this game #ffs misha

“No thanks, I’m good. I’d rather Mister Alcoholic didn’t think we were on the same team.” As per usual, he kept his voice low enough to not be audible over the playful mood the other Lucky Seven girl was evidently awakening in the rather tipsy other players, his expression never leaving enough room for interpretation of the hostile kind. Once more, he raised the bet, deciding to stick to instructions from now on for his point had been made satisfyingly enough.

“Well,” Mikhail spoke again after a brief silence which he had spent choosing his words, “I’m sorry I’ve unnecessarily forced my opinion on you. I see now that you clearly don’t need advice in that regard.” A nonchalant shrug, eyes straying from the table to her. “You’ve dealt with much worse, haven’t you? He wouldn’t stand a chance if he tried to make a rather unprofessional move after your shift.”

{Private}{Flashback} Saved (Mikhail and Kira)

“You’re not bad company, no,” Kira teased. “I’ve had worse.” She managed a smile, turning over her left hand to see the bandages. She wondered just how bad it was beneath it but thought better than to go poking at it. “Don’t even give me that scars will look cool shit either. It’s my face ok? That’s the worst of it all in my opinion. I’m going to be pissed if there’s some TMI report about me being found laid out in Brenton. God knows what rumors they would start about it.”

#kira #saved;;#when ur cousin is the biggest dick alive i'm so sorry kira

“Aw, now you’re flattering me,” Mikhail chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. It definitely wasn’t the right time to pretend scars would only make her look rougher, a souvenir of the journey that was life and what other bullshit some overly optimistic hypocrites had to have come up with ages ago. Yet there weren’t much other things he could opt for that would make this any better for her -- and thus he probably went with the worst possible approach. “Well, you know who did look pretty cool with a scar on his face, though?” He leaned closer, having sat down by her side, lowering his voice mysteriously. “Al Pacino. In Scarface. Who knows, maybe it’ll only help you channel a bit of your inner Tony Montana.” He was certain she’d kill him with a death glare any minute now. “Or, you know, maybe they’ll heal well and you’re worrying about nothing now. As for TMI, I’m pretty sure no one but my puppy and I have laid eyes on you in that alley so as long as the Koreans don’t brag, you should be fine.”

Astrobleme | Flashback.

I had the strangest dream. This chaos of mellow words, gasps and scratches alongside promises none of us could keep; he called me a queen, gasping it out as I tugged at his lip harshly – Vanessa was speaking to herself, her fingers came back from their slumber contracting themselves as though she had received an electric shock. First thing she noticed was a strange ache, similar to the ache she felt after a day climbing or running, physically exhausted but strangely relaxed with faint waves rocking her to sleep.

That surface was mushy for sure, but she could feel something flat and hard under it. Wait, where did she fall sleep? What the hell was going on? There was a faint pounding in her head, she furrowed, still contemplating to open her eyes as she was oddly cozy there, a warmth was wrapping her and it wasn’t just the hot sunlight she could guess was hitting her legs – she had fallen asleep on the livingroom, she had fallen asleep on the carpet. Fervently she stirred, her awakening was peaceful yet doubtful, she couldn’t remember some things, but the amnesia lasted half a heartbeat; she knew what had happened, she knew what she had done.

Jesus Christ, she slept with Mikhail. What, thrice? Was he still there? Well, that warmth had to belong to something, she turned around hoping to find a chilly pillowcase but found skin instead, naked skin no less: a chest, his chest. Panic wasn’t taking over her, she was in a tranquil state, as calmed as she could be considering all of the things they told each other. Not only had they become an item, oh no, it had seemingly turned into a Henry Tudor worthy scene with those two whispering promises and calling each other names she didn’t even thought possible. Queen was one of them, queen had been her favorite. A part of her felt cocky, realizing he had spent the night, and judging by the arms around her he had no wishes of letting go: ‘I know you walk like you’re a god, I can’t believe I made you weak’

She sighed, at last. And opened her eyes.Vanessa chuckled lazily and whispered, once she realized he had beat her in the ‘waking up first’ game.

“It isn’t polite to stare”

#vanessa #i know i asked for it but omfg don't slay me pls #*fucks you thrice then sends you to the kitchen*#pre-emancipation husband goals #a moment of silence of unsatisfied i am with this gif now bc my memory has played me so hard omfg

For the first night in many, how many he had lost count of by now, his dreams weren’t one and the same even though they still featured the same star. Had they once seemed like torturous what-ifs, half-hearted promises sure to be out of reach, they had now taken on the form of clouded visions of the future, twisted and almost indecipherable for their lack of chronology, yet they provided him with a peaceful slumber all the same. For the first time, it wasn’t a dream that awoke him at the very best part as if to tease him over and over again. It was the light targeting his fluttering lids, merciless sunbeams creeping in through the windows behind him that belonged to an apartment that certainly wasn’t his.

Violently, he blinked, briefly rubbing his eyes before they could adjust themselves to the sudden change of lighting. It was definitely morning by now, there was no denying that, yet he wasn’t in his bed, tangled in familiar sheets. He was staring at a ceiling he had barely just discovered, so far only in the black of the night, which could only mean one thing: his mind hadn’t played a particularly cruel trick on him and provided him with a dream so much more vivid than the rest. No, it had all been real. All of it. Every little detail, even the ones that didn’t stray far from a temporary fit of insanity. And yet still, he had never felt more at peace with himself.

Regardless, for some absolutely illogical reason, Mikhail was afraid of letting his gaze wander, as if there was still a single doubt about this being reality that would be confirmed the moment he did. It was a completely irrational fear for he could feel the soft fibres of the carpet against his skin and the weight of another person’s head and upper body on his chest but it took him a minute of preparation before he was willing to face it. Green eyes lowered themselves, the sight they caught a glimpse of prompting him to sit up only the slightest bit, careful not to disturb the still soundly sleeping brunette who had made his chest her pillow for the night, his arm still wrapped tightly around her now almost fragile looking frame. Teeth dug into the sore flesh of his bottom lip in order to suppress a roguish grin. He had gotten to watch her fall asleep last night and now he’d also be privileged enough to watch her wake up. At least it could be considered a privilege as long as her awaking wouldn’t entail her jumping to her feet and pretending she was clueless as to what had happened between them last night. An unlikely scenario yet still a valid concern of his.

A hint of panic set in once she was beginning to stir, a telltale sign that the end of her slumber might be near. In the past, this would have been the point where he had already gotten dressed in a haste and was at least close to being on his way out, something that certainly wasn’t an option in this case. What was he even supposed to do? Look away? Pretend he was only just waking up as well? Once again, she had turned him into a mess of an anxious teenager -- and this time without even trying to.

Too much time had been wasted on weighing his options to actually still be capable of settling on one, for she had already woken up and quietly addressed him, instantly softening his expression. Apparently Vanessa wasn’t all that keen on shrieking and pretending. Thank all the high heavens.

“I wasn’t planning on getting caught.”

Silence emerged thanks to him having no clue what to say next for he was worried about there still being some details regarding last night’s promises that could have easily been nothing more than sweet nothings hanging in the air. Perhaps he should try to test the waters cautiously.

“Remember this actually having breakfast breakfast instead of a late one thing we talked about last night?” Like your average couple making use of leftover birthday cake was roughly the wording he had employed to describe it back then. “Is that still a thing we’re going to be doing?” It was a soft, almost shy inquiry although he had tried his best to sound confident instead.

His reaction was impossible for her to decode, but Vanessa was doing her best. Her alliances would remain as glued to the bratva as they once were, and she was hoping it wasn’t foolish of her to let go of a rope to swing from another. “I have never been more sure of something, or to say the least I have never been so certain of too many things, this is one of them” she stated as firmly as she had spoken before “It’s time for our game to step up and if I can help with that then so be it… I am ready, I am”

But it was complicated, nonetheless, Aleksandr shone by his absence and only God knew what his reaction would be, and if she would have to comply to his plans eventually. Working with Mikhail after everything that happen would be seen as unwise by some, heavens look after her if people found out about their relationship; which by the way, was ridiculously green to flaunt about. “I will work for you, that I thought you have known for a while now but if you want to make it official then there you have it…” she raised her finger, approaching him slowly as her footsteps echoed across the weapon warehouse.

“No one, and by no one I mean no one – including your sisters and cousin, even Konstantin if he happens to ask – can know of us. Of us, as a thing. Everyone will jump on me if they do, so let’s keep it lowkey. All they need to know is that I’m your employee and recruiter, the fact I’m your girlfriend should stay irrelevant and in secret, at least for a while”

#vanessa #private #remember when i was drunk and matty healy last week #the alcohol got nothing on our writing byeeee

It could end in disaster, he saw it flash before his eyes already in the most vivid shades of his father’s wrath. Naturally, the man wouldn’t like to hear about his secret weapon no longer being willing to be his secret weapon but he didn’t have the heart to shut her plans down, not when she was this determined to finally drop an act he knew she had had enough of from the very beginning. “Alright. Then that’s what we’ll do for now. If you think you can deal with the consequences, I’ll be more than happy to officially have you under my command.” He couldn’t help sounding at least somewhat cocky now. “I really hope you’ll make sure neither of us regrets that decision. It’s almost guaranteed to get me into trouble with my beloved father as well if we’re out of luck.”

Getting up again to take advantage of their height difference, Mikhail couldn’t refrain from rolling his eyes. “You’re starting to repeat yourself, Солнышко. I’m still very well aware of how much you value secrecy in that regard and I can clearly see why now, considering how much you’ve just gotten out of me in one sitting. For an innocent bystander, it’s almost impossible not to associate this with a stereotypical case of fucking your way up to the top and I’m not exactly eager to help you gain that sort of reputation,” he noted dryly, almost matter-of-factly.

“So we’re both going to keep our mouths shut about this for now and you’re going to work hard and prove that I wasn’t wrong to entrust you with these tasks, that I gave you this position due to your professional skills only, alright? Which I am, of course.” He tilted his head to the side, averting his gaze for a moment before he spoke again. “You know, I do want to tell Kira soon, though. Because if she finds out somehow and we haven’t told her, she’s going to get pissed, alright, and it’ll only get worse the longer we keep it from her.”

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“Did I?” she questioned, eyes roaming over the table, a light smile masking whatever frown she might have worn otherwise. “You must have been watching me very closely to notice that, Mr. Vorshevsky.” At his words, she glanced at the man she had apparently screwed over one of these nights, and was met with a cold glare in return. Lowering her gaze again, Zoe continued, still in a low voice, quiet enough for their conversation to remain private at the table. “Your concern-” She emphasized, knowing very well that it was anything but concern, “is flattering. Also a bit inappropriate, if I’m allowed to point that out.”

Before she could indicate to him that raising wasn’t a good idea this round, he’d already gone ahead and done so, leaving her inwardly sighing while her outward expression didn’t change. Almost everyone else at the table had paid enough attention to refrain from betting more money, it seemed like the obvious choice at this point - unless, of course, you really were a bloody beginner. “That move just enriched your sister,” she muttered.