#anyone else always wonder what N stood for entirely??

[bu3ck3r]

all mine

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 10k

warnings: drinking, language, sexual content

a/n: sorry for the long wait but here it is😭 (i didnt really edit this so if there’s some mistakes just ignore it)

Before Paige knew what love felt like, she knew what Azzi felt like.

It was laughter on long bus rides, sneakers tapping against the pavement in perfect rhythm. It was midnight conversations whispered under dorm room ceilings, fingers barely brushing between them on the couch. It was an unspoken understanding—a silent kind of gravity that had pulled them together long before they even realized it was happening.

Paige had always been drawn to Azzi, even when they were just kids competing at camps, both of them too young to understand why they gravitated toward each other the way they did.

But it wasn’t just friendship. Not really.

Because Paige had never felt her heartbeat stutter when she hugged any of her other friends too long. She had never memorized the way anyone else laughed, or wondered what it would feel like to hold their hand just because she wanted to. She had never been scared of losing anyone the way she was scared of losing Azzi.

But back then, she didn’t have the words for it. So she did the only thing she knew how to do—she buried it.

Somewhere along the way, things started to shift. Not in an obvious, dramatic way. It was subtle—like the way shadows change with the time of day, creeping in slowly until suddenly, everything looks different.

It was the way Paige started pulling back without realizing it. The way she let texts sit unanswered a little too long, the way she hesitated before reaching for Azzi the way she used to.

And Azzi noticed. Of course she did.

Because Azzi had always been the one person who saw through Paige, even when Paige didn’t want to be seen.

“Are we good?” Azzi had asked one night, her voice careful, uncertain.

Paige had nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, of course.”

And Azzi hadn’t pushed.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Paige needed her to push, to call her out, to force her to say out loud what she was too afraid to admit.

But Azzi had always been patient.

So she waited.

And Paige kept running.

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The house was packed, music too loud, bodies pressed too close, heat settling thick in the air.

Paige wasn’t sure why she even came.

She wasn’t the party type. Not really. But Nika had dragged her out, insisting she needed to “loosen up,” and Paige was too tired to argue.

She had been standing against the wall, half-listening to Lou and Nika argue about something stupid, when she felt it.

That familiar pull.

She didn’t have to turn around to know Azzi was in the room.

She felt it in her chest first, like something tightening, something waking up.

And when she finally lifted her gaze, there she was.

Azzi was across the room, head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkled at the corners, completely unaware of the way Paige’s entire world had just narrowed to her.

Paige was used to seeing her on the court—focused, determined, sharp.

But here, she looked different. Softer. Warmer.

And it was unfair, the way she did that—walked into a room and made Paige forget how to breathe.

For a second, just a second, Azzi turned.

Their eyes met.

And the moment stretched, time bending between them the way it always did.

Azzi didn’t look away.

And for the first time in a long time, neither did Paige.

The night air was cooler outside, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the party.

Azzi stood by the railing, fingers tapping idly against the wood, her gaze fixed on the city lights.

Paige hesitated in the doorway, hands shoved into the pocket of her hoodie, uncertainty clawing at her ribs.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing here.

Maybe she should just go back inside. Pretend she hadn’t followed Azzi out here like some lost puppy.

But before she could make that decision, Azzi spoke.

Paige froze, fingers tightening around the fabric of her hoodie.

Azzi didn’t turn to look at her, still staring out at the city, but her voice was steady—too steady, like she had been waiting to say this for a long time.

“You always do this”

Paige swallowed. “Do what?”

Azzi let out a breath—one of those slow, measured exhales that meant she was trying to hold something back.

“You pull away,” she said finally, turning just enough to glance at Paige over her shoulder. “And then you come back like nothing happened.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

Azzi gave her a look, and Paige’s words died in her throat.

Because it was true.

Paige didn’t mean to do it. She didn’t mean to keep running, to keep putting distance between them every time she felt like she was getting too close.

But how was she supposed to not be scared? Azzi was the only thing that had ever felt bigger than basketball, bigger than anything Paige had ever wanted. And wanting her, really wanting her—meant risking everything.

It meant risking them.

“I just…” Paige sighed, leaning against the railing next to Azzi, close enough that their arms almost touched. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Azzi turned fully now, eyebrows pulling together. “Do what?”

Paige hesitated, staring down at her hands.

This was the moment.

The moment where she either told the truth or let the silence stretch between them again, let it become another thing they didn’t talk about.

She took a shaky breath.

“This,” she said, finally looking up. “Wanting you. Being around you and pretending it’s nothing when it’s everything.”

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard Paige right.

And then, carefully, so, so carefully—she reached out, fingers grazing Paige’s wrist.

Paige sucked in a breath, but she didn’t pull away.

“Then stop pretending,” Azzi murmured.

And for the first time in years, Paige thought that maybe—just maybe—she could.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment like in the movies.

It was just them.

Standing on a balcony, the city stretching out below, the party fading into a distant hum behind them.

Azzi was watching her, waiting—always waiting.

And Paige, for once, didn’t run.

She just leaned in, closing the space between them, pressing her lips to Azzi’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi inhaled sharply against her mouth, but then she was kissing her back, fingers curling around the fabric of Paige’s hoodie, pulling her in like she had been waiting for this just as long. It was slow, tentative—like they were both afraid to break whatever fragile thing had just formed between them. But then Paige sighed into the kiss, and Azzi’s hand slid up to cup her jaw, and suddenly, it wasn’t slow at all.

It was desperate.

It was real.

And Paige had never felt more certain of anything in her life.

They didn’t talk about it right away.

Maybe because neither of them wanted to break whatever had just settled between them.

Or maybe because words felt too small, too insignificant for something that had felt so big.

All Paige knew was that when they finally stepped back inside, her entire body was still buzzing.

Azzi’s fingers had brushed hers as they walked, and Paige had wanted so badly to reach back—to hold on, to keep them connected just a little longer.

But she didn’t.

Because as much as she wanted this, she was still scared.

What if they ruined everything? What if this didn’t change anything?

Paige stole a glance at Azzi, wondering if she was feeling the same way.

Azzi caught her staring.

And for the first time all night, she smiled. Not a small, uncertain smile. A real one.

And just like that, Paige knew.

This wasn’t nothing.

This was everything.

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Paige woke up with the memory of Azzi’s lips still burning on hers.

The morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room. Everything felt different—like the world had shifted on its axis while she was sleeping. And maybe it had.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“You up?”

Paige exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen. Then she smiled, because for the first time, she didn’t have to think about it.

“Yeah. Want to get breakfast?”

Azzi’s reply was immediate.

“Always.”

Paige didn’t know what came next.

But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.

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Paige had always been good under pressure.

On the court, with the clock winding down and the game on the line—those were the moments she lived for. When the stakes were high, she thrived.

But this? This was different. Because this wasn’t a game.

And the way Azzi was looking at her across the breakfast table—soft, curious, like she was waiting for Paige to say something—it made her feel like she was already losing.

“So…” Azzi finally broke the silence, stirring her coffee absently. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Paige exhaled, leaning back against the booth. “What is it?”

Azzi gave her a knowing look.

“Paige.”

Her name sounded different in Azzi’s voice—like a question, like a challenge. Like a promise.

Paige ran a hand through her hair, trying to play it cool. “We kissed. It happened.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t change.

“And?”

Paige hesitated.

And I can’t stop thinking about it. And I don’t know what to do next. And I think I might be in love with you, but I don’t know how to say it out loud.

But instead of saying any of those things, she shrugged. “And… I don’t want things to be weird.”

Azzi studied her for a long moment, fingers tapping lightly against her cup. Then she nodded, like she had expected that answer.

“Okay,” she said simply.

And that was the problem with Azzi.

She didn’t push. She never did. She just gave Paige space to figure it out.

And Paige had never wanted to figure something out more in her life.

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The thing about trying to pretend nothing had changed?

It never worked. Because everything had changed.

Paige felt it in every glance, every accidental touch, every moment of silence that stretched a little too long.

And if Azzi noticed—which she definitely did—she didn’t say anything.

She just let it happen.

Like when they were in the gym late one night, just the two of them, shooting in comfortable silence.

Paige had missed a shot she never missed, and Azzi had smirked.

“Distracted?”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing the rebound. “You wish.”

Azzi stepped closer, tilting her head slightly. “I do.”

Paige’s breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if it was the way Azzi’s voice had dropped just a little lower, or the fact that they were suddenly too close, but something shifted.

Azzi must have felt it too, because she hesitated—just for a second—before reaching out.

Her fingers barely grazed Paige’s wrist.

And Paige? Paige didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Because Azzi was looking at her like she knew. Like she knew exactly what Paige was feeling and was just waiting for her to admit it.

And for a moment, Paige almost did.

But then the gym doors creaked open, and the moment was gone.

Azzi stepped back.

And just like that, they were back to pretending.

Pretending only worked for so long.

It was after another game—a close win, adrenaline still buzzing in Paige’s veins—when it finally happened.

They were in the locker room, most of the team already gone, when Azzi leaned against the lockers and said, “I’m done.”

Paige frowned. “Done with what?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “With this.”

Paige’s heart clenched. “Azzi…”

“No, listen,” Azzi said, stepping closer. “I don’t want to be something you keep running from. I don’t want to keep pretending this is nothing when we both know it’s not.”

Paige swallowed hard.

Azzi reached out, fingers ghosting over Paige’s jaw—barely touching, but enough to make Paige’s breath hitch.

“I want you,” Azzi murmured. “But I need to know if you want me too.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, she surged forward, kissing Azzi like she was trying to make up for every second they had wasted.

It wasn’t like their first kiss.

This was desperate.

This was hungry.

Paige backed Azzi into the lockers, hands fisting in her hoodie, pulling her closer and closer—until there was nothing between them but heat and want and every unspoken word they had been avoiding.

Azzi let out a soft sound against her mouth, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, and Paige melted into it.

Into her.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

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The thing about keeping a secret like this?

It’s exhausting.

Paige could feel the weight of it every time she saw Azzi—across the court, in the hallway between classes, during practices.

The stolen glances. The lingering touches. The way their eyes would meet for just a second, a silent promise between them, and then they’d both look away—acting like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Paige would catch herself at night, her body still humming from the way Azzi’s fingers had brushed her cheek, the way their lips had melded together in that locker room, desperate and fierce.

And she’d want to reach out, to text Azzi, to say anything.

But no.

They couldn’t.

At least, not yet.

There was something thrilling about it—about the secrecy. The knowledge that, for now, only they knew the truth. But it was also maddening. And Paige knew she couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay for long.

They found ways to be close without anyone noticing—whispers in dark hallways, brief moments where their hands would brush when they passed each other.

But it was in the quiet moments when they weren’t supposed to be touching that Paige felt it most.

Like when they were at the team’s dinner, everyone gathered around a long table in the dimly lit restaurant, eating and laughing.

Azzi was across from her, but their eyes locked, and suddenly the noise around them faded into a soft buzz, like the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

Azzi’s leg brushed against Paige’s under the table, slow and deliberate.

And Paige’s heart skipped a beat.

She looked up, and Azzi’s eyes were on her, dark and intense. A small, secret smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

We shouldn’t be doing this, Paige thought. But the rush of heat that shot through her told her that she didn’t care anymore.

When the dinner ended, Paige walked out behind everyone else, head spinning, pulse racing.

Azzi stayed just a little too close, their shoulders brushing as they exited the door.

Azzi’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Meet me later. My place.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? What was she getting herself into?

But the tension between them had reached its breaking point, and all she could do was nod, her voice barely audible. “I’ll be there.”

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Paige had always been good at staying in control. She was the leader on the court, the one who made the calls, the one who always had a plan.

But when she stepped into Azzi’s apartment later that night, everything changed.

Azzi’s place was warm, soft lighting casting gentle shadows over the space. It felt different—softer than the world they had built around themselves. Paige felt the familiar pull in her chest, but this time, there was no hiding from it.

Azzi closed the door behind her, locking it, the quiet sound echoing through the room.

Paige turned to face her, nerves buzzing under her skin.

Azzi stepped forward, her eyes dark, intense, but her touch gentle. She cupped Paige’s face, thumbs grazing over her cheekbones, and Paige leaned into her touch without thinking.

“I’ve been thinking about this… about you,” Azzi whispered, her voice rough and low.

Paige swallowed hard. “Me too.”

And then, without warning, Azzi kissed her—slow, deliberate, the way they both had been craving but never allowing themselves to fully indulge.

Azzi’s hands moved to the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer, her mouth hot and insistent. Paige moaned softly, the sound caught in her throat as she wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, drawing her in.

It was slow. It was a blur of emotions and tension. Every touch felt like it could be their last moment together like they were both daring each other to cross a line they knew they shouldn’t yet.

Azzi’s fingers slid down to the hem of Paige’s shirt, and for a moment, they just paused—standing there, breathless, as if they were both trying to remember how to move in each other’s space.

Paige met Azzi’s gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t answer with words. She just pulled Paige into another kiss—deeper, more desperate.

And that was the moment Paige stopped caring about anything else.

It wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was about everything that led up to it.

Paige’s hands were on Azzi’s now, fingertips brushing against her bare skin, igniting a fire she hadn’t realized was there. The moment was unraveling, both of them caught between desire and the fear of what it meant.

Azzi’s breath came in shallow bursts, her body aching for more. “Paige,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Paige’s lips trailed down her neck, teeth grazing her pulse, and Azzi moaned softly, hands sliding into her hair, pulling her closer, urging her on.

Paige paused, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s skin. “You sure?” she asked, voice low and thick with desire.

Azzi shuddered, nodding, her fingers curling into Paige’s shirt. “I want this.”

And that was all Paige needed.

She moved slowly, deliberately, taking her time, making sure every touch, every kiss, was burned into Azzi’s memory. The tension built between them, charged and electric, until it felt like the whole world had disappeared. There was only the way Paige’s hands moved over her, the way Azzi’s body responded—every inch of her skin reacting to Paige’s touch as if it had always been meant for this.

Paige’s name escaped Azzi’s lips in a breathless gasp, and Paige responded with a soft growl, kissing her deeper.

Paige reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of Azzi’s jaw, her touch feather-light yet igniting a fire within. Azzi leaned into the caress, her breath hitching as she closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Paige whispered, her voice a sultry murmur that sent a thrill through Azzi.

With a soft smile, Azzi opened her eyes, locking onto Paige’s gaze. “Show me,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with longing.

Paige leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, the warmth of their breaths mingling. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as they lost themselves in each other.

Paige’s hands found their way to Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Azzi responded by tangling her fingers in Paige’s hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. It was a dance of passion and tenderness, each movement igniting a spark that spread through them both.

As they pulled away, breathless and flushed, Azzi eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I want to feel all of you,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

Paige’s hands roamed down Azzi’s sides, exploring the curves of her body, tracing the delicate lines of her silhouette. Azzi shivered at the touch, her skin alive with sensation. She leaned back slightly, allowing Paige to explore further, her heart pounding with excitement.

With a gentle push, Paige guided Azzi back onto the soft bed, their bodies entwined. The world outside faded even more, leaving only the warmth of their skin and the rhythm of their hearts. Paige’s lips traveled down Azzi’s neck, planting soft kisses that made her gasp and arch her back, craving more.

“Tell me what you want,” Paige murmured against her skin, her breath hot and tantalizing.

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with need. “Everything. I want everything with you.”

Paige smiled, her eyes dark with desire. She captured Azzi’s lips again, pouring all her longing into the kiss, as their bodies moved together in a beautiful symphony of passion and love.

Paige’s hands slid beneath Azzi’s shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Azzi’s breath quickened as Paige’s hands traveled higher, brushing against the lace of her bra. With a deft movement, she unclasped it, letting it fall away, exposing Azzi’s breasts to the cool air.

Azzi gasped, her body responding instinctively as Paige’s warm mouth enveloped one of her nipples, swirling her tongue around it. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through Azzi, as she pressed herself closer to Paige.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, urging her on.

Paige’s other hand explored Azzi’s body, trailing down her sides and slipping beneath the waistband of her pants. She could feel the heat radiating from Azzi’s core, and her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her panties. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige’s fingers found their way inside her panties, teasing her with gentle strokes. “Paige baby, please,” she gasped, her body pressing into the touch, craving more.

Paige’s fingers moved with purpose, exploring the slickness of Azzi’s arousal, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. “I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her eyes locked onto Azzi’s, filled with a mix of love and lust.

Azzi’s body responded fast, her hips moving in rhythm with Paige’s fingers. “Yes, just like that,” she moaned.

“Mmm, i love hearing you like this.” Paige whispered in Azzi’s ear.

“I love the way you touch me” Azzi whispered with a look full of desire.

As Paige continued to work her magic, Azzi felt herself teetering on the edge and the pleasure building within her.

“Fuck you feel so good baby.” she whispered in Azzi’s ear.

Azzi was grinding on Paige’s fingers slowly. Paige’s hand was lazily squeezing her butt and the other holding the side of her neck as her thumb stroked her cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy Az.” Paige whispered with a smile while putting her fingers deep inside.

“Baby please i need you so badly right now, don’t stop.” Azzi responded with a breathy moan.

“I got you princess.” she said as her hands moved faster.

“You’re being so good for me, pretty.” she praises Azzi once again helping her roll her hips against her fingers while gripping tighter around her sides.

“Look at me while you do that.” Azzi said with a needy tone.

“You like that, don’t you gorgeous?” Paige replied with a smirk on her face.

“Omg Paige im close…don’t stop..go harder baby” Azzi’s moans getting louder as she pulls Paige to her.

Paige comes closer to Azzi as she whispers in her ear. “So fucking hot taking it so good”

Azzi wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist as her hips rocked faster. Azzi’s so close, her legs are starting to hurt but Paige keeps up the pace, working Azzi through her orgasm. Her entire body shakes as she becomes incredibly sensitive and slows the movement of her hips.

Azzi takes both of her hands to cup Paige’s face. “I love you” she looks deep into Paige’s eyes.

“I love you to Azzi” Paige says as she brings Azzi in for a passionate kiss. Her tongue sliding across Azzi’s bottom lip. After they pull away she smiles at Azzi bringing her forehead to hers.

It wasn’t just passion, it was something more.

Something they couldn’t name yet, but something they felt deeply.

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There were nights when Paige couldn’t sleep.

Nights when the world outside her window was still and silent, but her mind was anything but. She’d find herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the moments with Azzi—the way her lips felt against hers, the gentle but persistent touch of Azzi’s hands as they navigated the lines between wanting and needing.

It was overwhelming, this thing between them. A slow build, layered with emotions they weren’t sure how to unpack.

She wasn’t used to this—being vulnerable.

Being seen.

Every time she saw Azzi, there was an undeniable pull. A gravity that kept them both tethered, even when they pretended not to notice.

One evening, after another late practice, Paige found herself standing outside Azzi’s apartment building. She had told herself she wouldn’t do this—wouldn’t show up uninvited, wouldn’t cross a line they both knew existed—but her feet carried her here anyway.

She texted Azzi with shaking fingers: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A moment passed before Azzi’s reply lit up her screen: “I know. Come up.”

Paige’s heart raced as she hit the elevator button, then made her way up to the familiar door.

When Azzi opened it, she didn’t say a word. She just pulled Paige inside, closing the door behind her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, quiet and heavy, both of them standing close, but not quite touching.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Azzi met her eyes, searching, and for a moment, Paige felt like she was about to unravel in front of her.

Azzi didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stepped forward, her fingers brushing Paige’s jaw. It was a gentle touch, a silent question.

And then, she kissed her again.

But this time, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow—soft. They moved together like they had all the time in the world, as though they were both trying to savor the moment.

Paige let herself fall into it, every nerve in her body alive under Azzi’s touch.

They didn’t rush. Instead, they explored. The heat of their closeness, the electricity of their connection, was enough to make the world outside disappear. And in that quiet apartment, Paige began to realize that she wasn’t just falling for Azzi—she was letting herself be found.

The next few days passed in a haze—small touches, lingering glances, conversations held in hushed tones. They didn’t talk about what had happened. They didn’t even acknowledge the weight of it, not really.

But it hung in the air between them, palpable and thick.

One afternoon, after a long practice, they sat together on the steps outside the gym, the warm evening air wrapping around them like a blanket. They were alone, the others already gone, but it was never the right time to speak the words that had been building between them.

Azzi stretched out her legs, leaning back slightly against the steps. Paige sat beside her, her shoulder grazing Azzi’s. The touch was fleeting but meaningful.

“You know,” Azzi began, breaking the silence, “I’ve never really understood how to do this.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. “Do what?”

Azzi glanced over at her, her eyes serious, but there was a softness there too. “Let someone in. Let someone stay.”

Paige felt a flutter in her chest. “I didn’t think you had that problem.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do. I think we both do.”

Paige shifted closer, the weight of her words heavier than anything she had said before. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Azzi turned her head to look at her then, her gaze intense, searching. “You sure about that?”

Paige nodded, her breath catching in her throat. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

They were quiet for a moment, the weight of what was unspoken between them settling into the space. It wasn’t just about physical attraction—it was about trust. About the willingness to give yourself to someone else and let them have a piece of your heart, even if it wasn’t perfect.

Azzi leaned in then, closing the distance between them. It was soft, tender—this time it wasn’t the frantic passion of before, but something deeper. Their lips met gently, and Paige let out a sigh, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the feeling.

They pulled apart, but Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s cheek, thumb brushing against her skin as if memorizing the curve of her face.

“I want to believe you,” Azzi whispered, “but I’m scared.”

Paige leaned into her hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too.”

And in that moment, Paige realized that maybe fear wasn’t something to avoid. Maybe it was a sign that they were both invested—both willing to risk it all for something they couldn’t explain but didn’t want to let go of.

The next few weeks were a blur of stolen moments and quiet intimacy. They’d meet in secret—behind closed doors, in dark corners where no one could see them, and it felt like they were living in their own world, separated from everything else.

But as much as they both craved each other’s touch, there was always the lingering tension—the fear of what might happen if anyone found out. Paige couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they could keep it a secret. How much longer they could keep pretending that nothing was different.

One night, after an especially intense game, they found themselves alone again. It was late, the gym empty, and the only light came from the overhead lamps casting long shadows on the court.

Azzi was waiting for her near the locker rooms, leaning against the doorframe. Paige’s pulse quickened when she saw her, the magnetic pull between them almost tangible.

Azzi pushed herself off the wall and walked toward Paige, her gaze never leaving hers.

“You’re always so quiet,” Azzi said softly, her voice a little teasing, but there was something more in it. “But I know you’re thinking about something.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost nervous. “You’re impossible.”

Azzi smirked. “And you like it.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi was close again, her lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. “I want…” She paused, unsure of what to say. How to put into words what she felt—what she needed.

Azzi’s hand gently cupped her jaw, lifting her face so their eyes met. “Tell me.”

And in that moment, everything felt clear. No more pretending. No more uncertainty.

“I want you,” Paige whispered, her voice thick with desire and truth. “I want this, Azzi. No more running.”

Azzi kissed her then, slow and deep, as if they were both finally allowing themselves to feel what they had been hiding for so long.

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The hardest part about a secret relationship wasn’t the stolen glances or the quiet kisses.

It was the constant strain on your chest—the pressure that built up every time you had to hide how you truly felt.

For Azzi, it was getting harder and harder to keep her distance from Paige when every part of her wanted to be closer.

They couldn���t just exist in their own little world. No, the weight of their secret was beginning to bear down on them. Every time someone looked at them, she couldn’t help but wonder: Did they know?

At practice, when they passed each other, the air between them was thick with unspoken tension. She could see the way Paige would catch her eye for a moment, only to look away quickly. How the hint of a smile would flicker across her lips, like a confession she wasn’t ready to make.

Azzi wanted more.

She wanted more than just stolen moments. She wanted to be able to hold Paige’s hand in public, kiss her in broad daylight, feel the rush of the world around them. But each time she let herself think about it, a knot would form in her stomach. There were too many things at stake.

She had to keep reminding herself—this was for the best. This was safer.

But even that comfort was starting to fray.

Paige had been different lately. More distant. Azzi could feel the shift, the cracks in their perfect little bubble. She had caught Paige looking at her with something in her eyes, something searching. And that look always unsettled her.

Paige wasn’t the type to hide things, and Azzi feared that at some point, Paige would ask questions they both knew they weren’t ready to answer.

The worst part was the fear that Paige might start resenting the secrecy. The fact that she was constantly forced to pretend.

One night, after an intense game, they found themselves alone in the locker room. The air was thick with exhaustion, sweat clinging to their clothes, but the exhaustion didn’t feel as draining as it had before. It was a different kind of tired now—the kind that came from pretending to be something they weren’t.

Azzi was just taking off her jersey when Paige spoke.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Azzi froze, turning to look at Paige, who had her back to her, staring at the floor.

“Do what?” Azzi asked, her voice rough, betraying the fear that was growing in her chest.

Paige didn’t turn around, but she spoke in a voice Azzi could hear cracking. “This. The secret. The hiding.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. She knew it was coming. She had known it all along. “You knew this was the only way,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, but it wavered.

“I know,” Paige replied, her voice softer now, and Azzi could almost hear the pain in her words. “But it feels like we’re lying. Like we’re pretending to be someone else every time we’re around other people. It’s exhausting, Az.”

Azzi stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She reached out to place a hand on Paige’s shoulder, urging her to turn around.

“Look at me.”

When Paige turned, Azzi saw the conflict written all over her face. It was a mix of frustration and longing—an emotion Azzi knew all too well.

“I want this. I want you,” Azzi said, her words barely a whisper. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you, Paige. Scared that if I let myself want you, we’ll ruin everything.”

Paige’s eyes softened, and for the first time in days, Azzi could see the vulnerability in her gaze. “You’re not going to lose me,” Paige whispered back. “But I need you to trust me, too. I can’t keep doing this in the shadows.”

Azzi’s heart raced, but she pulled Paige into her arms anyway, holding her close. “I trust you,” she murmured into Paige’s hair. “More than anything.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the weight of everything slip away—if only for a few minutes.

The days that followed felt like a slow unraveling. There were still moments of closeness—those brief but intense touches that spoke volumes, a look exchanged across the room that felt like a secret all on its own. But it wasn’t the same.

Paige was struggling with the fact that they couldn’t share their love with the world. She wanted to be able to call Azzi hers. To show everyone that she was the one who had her heart. But Azzi, on the other hand, felt like she was protecting them both by keeping things hidden.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the same lately,” Paige said one night, sitting on the couch beside Azzi, her hands nervously twisting a blanket.

Azzi looked over at her, brushing her hair back. “I know. I get it. You’re frustrated.”

“I just—I just want to hold your hand when we go out. I want to kiss you in front of people, not hide in corners like we’re doing something wrong,” Paige said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Azzi reached for Paige’s hand, holding it tightly. “I know. I want that too. But we’re not ready. If anyone found out, it could—”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” Paige interrupted, her voice firm, but the uncertainty in her eyes told a different story. “I care about us. And I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

Azzi let out a deep breath, her thumb brushing over Paige’s hand. “I’m scared too, you know. Of what might happen if we go public. It’s not just about us. It’s about everything else—our careers, our friends, our families. We’re not in control of the way people will react. If it’s too much…”

Paige’s eyes softened as she squeezed Azzi’s hand tighter. “I know. But I can’t keep pretending it’s easy when it’s not. I can’t pretend I don’t love you.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat..

“I love you too,” Azzi whispered, the words leaving her lips with a mix of relief and fear.

They were silent for a long time, just holding each other, knowing that the weight of their feelings had only grown heavier with time. But there was no going back now. The love they shared couldn’t stay buried forever.

The days after their confession were a blur of emotions. It was like they were both waking up to a reality they had been avoiding. They couldn’t hide from each other anymore.

And they couldn’t hide from their fears either.

Azzi had always been good at keeping control of her emotions, but now they were threatening to spill over. She could feel herself unraveling as the pressure of keeping everything secret began to weigh down on her.

One evening, during a team event, Azzi’s patience snapped. She had been watching Paige from across the room, unable to tear her eyes away, and it was too much. The way everyone around them acted like they had no idea what was going on between them—it felt suffocating.

Azzi pulled Paige into a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, and before she even had time to think, she found herself kissing Paige, desperate for the touch, the release from the tension that had built between them.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Azzi pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t keep doing this, Paige,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it feels like it’s killing me inside.”

Paige’s eyes were wide with shock, but she didn’t back away. “I’m not pretending, Azzi. I’m not pretending anymore.”

Azzi took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Then what do we do now?”

Paige reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “We face it together.”

And for the first time, Azzi realized that maybe they didn’t need to hide anymore. Maybe they could build something stronger than the fear of what might happen.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The gym was eerily quiet.

The usual hum of sneakers on the court, the sounds of whistles, and the rhythmic thud of basketballs bouncing had long since faded away. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors, giving the place an almost serene feeling.

Paige and Azzi were alone now.

There was something about the empty gym that had always made Paige feel exposed and vulnerable, yet tonight, as she stood beside Azzi, she felt an undeniable sense of calm. It was as if the quiet made it easier to breathe—to finally exist outside of the constraints they had put on themselves.

They had stolen moments like this before—quick, fleeting touches when no one was watching, stolen glances in the hallways, quiet laughter shared in passing. But tonight felt different.

Azzi stepped closer to her, brushing her hand gently against Paige’s. “You feel that?” Azzi asked softly, her voice low. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at Azzi, her eyes filled with something she couldn’t name—a mixture of longing, excitement, and something deeper, something she had been afraid to acknowledge.

“I know,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice… being here with you, just the two of us.”

Azzi leaned in, her lips just a breath away from Paige’s ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she murmured, and the words sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

There was no more need for words, not now. Slowly, gently, Azzi pulled Paige in, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like the world had finally aligned. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow, deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world to savor each moment, each touch.

Paige’s fingers traced the curve of Azzi’s neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her fingertips. Azzi’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, the heat between them building with every second. They were finally letting go of the fear, the restraint that had held them back for so long.

For a few minutes, there was no one else in the world but them. Just the soft sounds of their breathing, the rhythmic beating of their hearts, the gentle rustling of their clothes as they pressed closer together.

But as the moment stretched on, they both forgot something.

They forgot that they weren’t truly alone.

The door to the gym creaked open, just slightly.

Paige and Azzi didn’t notice at first. They were too caught up in each other, too wrapped up in the intimacy that had finally blossomed between them. They kissed deeper, their bodies instinctively moving closer, and for a brief moment, the world outside their bubble seemed to disappear entirely.

But then, a voice broke through the silence.

“Really? In the gym?”

Azzi froze, her lips still hovering inches from Paige’s. She pulled away slowly, a mixture of shock and embarrassment flashing across her face.

Standing in the doorway was none other than their teammate, Ice—eyes wide with disbelief but a knowing smirk slowly forming across her lips.

“Well, well,” Ice teased, “look at you two. Never thought I’d see the day. But honestly? I’m not even surprised.”

Paige’s face turned crimson, and she instinctively pulled away from Azzi, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. But then she glanced at Azzi, and to her surprise, Azzi was smiling—softly, but with a hint of amusement.

“What? You’re not surprised?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice a mix of playful curiosity and gentle teasing.

Ice crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Please. You two have been so obvious for weeks now.” She laughed softly. “I mean, the way you look at each other? Come on. It was only a matter of time.”

Paige felt a rush of heat rise to her face, and for a split second, she wanted to disappear into the floor. But Azzi, to her surprise, didn’t seem fazed at all.

“So, you’re not gonna tell anyone?” Azzi asked, her tone casual, as if they were discussing something trivial.

Ice shrugged. “Why would I? Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute. I’ll let you two figure things out. But don’t think you’re fooling anyone.” She gave them both a knowing smile and turned to leave.

Paige stood there, stunned, as the sound of Ice’s footsteps faded. She glanced at Azzi, who had her arms crossed now, a small smirk still playing on her lips.

“You’re not embarrassed?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Azzi shrugged, stepping closer to Paige again. “Honestly, no. I think it’s a relief.” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve been hiding this for so long, it feels like a weight has been lifted. And now, we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Paige looked at Azzi, her heart thumping in her chest. “You really think that?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze steady. “Yeah. I mean, sure, it’s going to take some time to get used to. But we don’t need to hide. We can be ourselves around our teammates. They already know. And if they want to make fun of us? So be it. But at least it’ll be our truth, you know?”

Paige felt something shift inside her—a sense of relief she hadn’t realized she needed. They didn’t have to keep hiding. They didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

“I’m kind of scared, though,” Paige admitted, her voice small. “What if things change? What if it becomes…awkward?”

Azzi took a step forward, closing the distance between them again. She cupped Paige’s face gently, her thumb brushing across her cheek. “I get it. But that’s the thing—we’re doing this together. We can handle whatever comes. And if people have a problem with it? That’s their issue, not ours.”

Paige nodded slowly, feeling the tension in her chest ease. Azzi was right. They had spent so long worrying about what everyone else would think that they hadn’t given themselves the chance to just be.

Azzi leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t about hiding—it was about claiming each other, letting go of the fear that had held them back for so long.

They pulled away, both of them smiling now, the weight of their secret finally lifted. The room felt lighter, the space between them finally filled with ease.

“You’re right,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with newfound confidence. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes shining with a mixture of relief and affection. “No. We don’t.”

As they stood there, surrounded by the echo of their teammates’ laughter, they both realized that this was just the beginning. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. They didn’t need to hide. They didn’t need to pretend.

What they had was real.

And nothing could change that.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions for Paige and Azzi. The awkwardness that both had feared didn’t seem to materialize, though. Their teammates had already caught on, and despite the teasing and jokes, there was an unspoken understanding. Everyone seemed to accept that they were together, and as the days passed, the atmosphere around them started to settle. The team wasn’t shocked, they had all seen the connection between Paige and Azzi for weeks, if not months.

Yet there was a quiet moment that kept replaying in Paige’s mind: the kiss in the gym, the way Azzi had held her, the way she had confessed her fears and vulnerabilities. That was the moment she realized how much she had longed for this—to stop hiding, to be herself with the person she loved. And it was a feeling she was beginning to cherish, not fear.

But that didn’t mean everything was easy.

There were still moments when Paige found herself worrying about how the outside world would perceive them. What if the media got a hold of it? What if their fans—who loved them both—couldn’t understand? What if it changed their dynamic on the court?

Azzi, on the other hand, was more relaxed about it all. She knew the rumors were already swirling, but for her, the idea of being with Paige openly outweighed the potential complications. She had always been someone who believed in authenticity, even when it was hard, even when it required vulnerability.

That night, they sat together on Paige’s couch, their shoulders lightly touching. The TV was playing something in the background, but neither of them was paying much attention to it. They had just finished dinner, and the conversation had drifted to more personal things—things they hadn’t shared before, things that felt too important to leave unsaid.

“Do you think it’ll get weird?” Paige asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Azzi looked at her, eyes full of warmth. “What, being out in the open? You mean, with everyone knowing?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Like, will things change?”

Azzi smiled softly, her gaze steady. “We can’t control how other people react. But we can control how we handle it. And as long as we’re honest with each other, I think we’ll be fine. Besides,” she added with a mischievous grin, “I’m not really one to hide who I’m with. Never really was.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve always been kind of fearless.”

Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “Only when I know what I want,” she whispered.

The closeness between them was electric, a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through to get to this point. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction—it was about trust, vulnerability, and understanding. It was the quiet moments like this that reminded Paige why she had fallen for Azzi in the first place.

But not everyone shared the same calm demeanor that Azzi seemed to carry so effortlessly. As the days passed, the team began to show more curiosity. Some of them were supportive, some of them gave gentle teasing, but others, like Ice, took to joking around in a way that felt less than kind at times. Still, Paige had come to terms with the fact that people’s reactions were beyond their control.

It wasn’t until the team was having a post-practice dinner at a local restaurant that Paige felt a twinge of discomfort. The group had settled into their usual booth, the chatter and laughter filling the air as the evening wore on. Paige and Azzi were sitting beside each other, sharing a basket of fries, trying to ignore the occasional sideways glance or whispered comment.

At one point, Ice made a remark about how “cute” the two of them looked together. The others chimed in with their own teasing comments, but it wasn’t in a malicious way—it was more playful than anything. Paige, however, could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She tried to brush it off, but it was hard not to feel exposed.

“Do you think they’re staring?” Paige whispered to Azzi, her voice low.

Azzi, sensing her discomfort, leaned in a little closer. “Don’t let it bother you. People are always going to have something to say. But you and I know what this is, right?”

Paige met her gaze, and for a second, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. “Yeah,” she said, her heart full of certainty. “I know.”

And for the first time in a long while, Paige realized that this was the moment where their relationship was no longer about secrecy. It wasn’t about hiding in the shadows. It was about them, about their love, and about how much stronger it had made them both.

The team’s joking continued, but it no longer had the sting it once did. As time went on, Paige and Azzi grew more comfortable being together. They no longer felt the need to hide or downplay their connection. In fact, Paige found herself standing a little taller when they were in public, walking with a confidence she hadn’t realized she lacked before. Azzi’s quiet support and unwavering belief in them gave her the strength to carry that confidence.

It wasn’t just about being open in front of their teammates. It was about opening up to each other in ways they hadn’t done before. They started sharing more than just their feelings for each other—they shared their hopes, their fears, and their dreams for the future.

One night, as they sat together in the quiet of Paige’s apartment, Azzi spoke about something that had been on her mind for a while.

“I’ve always been afraid of… of not being good enough,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Afraid that if I give myself fully to someone, I’ll let them down.”

Paige’s heart ached at hearing this. She reached for Azzi’s hand, gently squeezing it. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do anything but be you,” Paige said, her voice firm, yet tender. “I love you just the way you are. And I trust you with everything I have.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead against Paige’s. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

In that moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift off their shoulders. They no longer needed to be afraid of the outside world or the things they couldn’t control. What they had was theirs, and nothing—no matter how difficult it might be—could take that away.

The next morning, as they walked into practice, it was different. They were still the same Paige and Azzi that their teammates knew, but there was something new—a sense of peace between them. No more secrets. No more pretending. They didn’t have to hide their feelings anymore.

As they lined up for drills, Azzi caught Paige’s eye and gave her a small, knowing smile. Paige smiled back, her heart light.

For the first time in a long while, they both felt like they could breathe easy. No matter what came next, they had each other. And for Paige, that was all that mattered.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

It had been a month since Paige and Azzi had stopped hiding their relationship. The team had largely accepted it, though there were still moments of teasing. But Paige no longer cared. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Neither of them were.

Tonight was different, though. The team had been invited to a party to celebrate the end of the season, a mix of teammates, coaches, and friends. Paige was looking forward to it in a way she hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just a team event. It was an opportunity to finally enjoy the freedom they had earned, to let loose without worrying about being watched.

Azzi had been in her element all evening—laughing, chatting, and looking effortlessly stunning in a sleek black dress that clung to her body perfectly. The fabric shimmered under the lights as she moved through the crowd, her long legs highlighted by the high heels she wore. Paige couldn’t help but stare, her gaze tracing every curve of Azzi’s form. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight—the confidence, the grace—that made Paige’s heart race.

“You good?” Ice asked Paige, noticing her distracted expression.

Paige didn’t immediately respond. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, who was chatting with some of the other girls from the team. Azzi’s smile was radiant, her laughter contagious, and the way she threw her head back in amusement made Paige’s heart flutter.

“I’m more than good,” Paige finally said, her voice a little breathier than usual.

Ice smirked. “I see how it is,” she teased, nudging Paige’s shoulder. “You’re looking at her like you can’t wait to drag her home.”

Paige flushed, but she couldn’t deny it. The desire was there, unspoken but undeniable. Azzi had always had that effect on her. And tonight, it felt different—like the air between them had thickened, like the weight of their love was becoming too much to ignore.

As the night went on, the alcohol flowed freely, and the atmosphere became more relaxed. Paige and Azzi found themselves in a quiet corner of the room, away from the crowd. They weren’t as concerned with the party as they were with each other. The music pulsed in the background, and the dim lighting set a sultry mood.

Azzi took a sip of her drink, her eyes meeting Paige’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “You look amazing tonight,” she said, her voice low, filled with warmth.

Paige could feel the heat rising to her face at the compliment, but she smiled softly. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Azzi. Every part of her wanted to reach out, to touch her, to feel that closeness again.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. She set her drink down and took a step closer to Paige. “It’s hard to focus when you keep looking at me like that,” she whispered, her lips brushing Paige’s ear as she spoke. “You make it impossible to stay composed.”

Paige’s breath hitched. She was intoxicated, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made her dizzy. It was Azzi. The way her presence consumed Paige entirely, the way she made everything else fade away.

Before Paige could respond, Azzi gently cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It started soft, tender, a slow exploration of each other’s lips. But as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, more needy. The heat between them surged, the way it always did when they were together.

“Paige,” Azzi murmured against her lips, “I want you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest. There was no hiding anymore, no games. In that moment, everything was laid bare between them.

Paige felt herself melting into Azzi’s touch, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers slid beneath the fabric of Azzi’s dress, tracing the smooth skin of her back. It felt electric, and every kiss sent waves of desire crashing through her.

Azzi’s breath was shallow now, and Paige could feel the tension building between them. They weren’t alone anymore. The world was still spinning around them, but for once, they didn’t care. It was just the two of them in this moment, their bodies speaking the language they had been waiting to share.

Somehow, they found their way to a quiet room upstairs. The noise of the party seemed distant now, almost irrelevant. In this moment, they were just Paige and Azzi—no teammates, no expectations, just two people who had finally let go of everything that had been holding them back.

Azzi’s hands were all over her now, pulling at the hem of Paige’s shirt, tugging it over her head. Paige’s breath caught in her throat as the cool air of the room brushed against her skin. She had never wanted anyone like this before—never felt this needed.

“Are you sure?” Paige asked, her voice a little unsteady. She could feel the intensity of the moment rising, but there was still a part of her that wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

Azzi’s eyes were dark with desire, but there was no hesitation. “I’m sure,” she whispered, her voice a low growl.

Before Paige could say another word, Azzi kissed her again, this time with a fire that had been simmering for far too long. Their bodies were pressed together, heat radiating between them, the world outside forgotten.

The kiss deepened, and Paige felt a wave of passion surge through her. She reached for the zipper of Azzi’s dress, tugging it down slowly, feeling her pulse race with each inch of skin revealed. Azzi’s hands were on Paige’s back now, guiding her toward the bed. They had crossed a line, and neither of them could stop now.

Azzi’s hands roamed across Paige’s body with an urgency that matched Paige’s own need. Every touch felt like a revelation, every kiss a promise. There was no holding back, no need for words. Their bodies spoke a language of their own—a language of love, of trust, of desire.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. They were each other’s, completely.

The morning after was a haze of tangled sheets, soft light streaming through the windows, and the weight of what had happened settling in. Paige woke up first, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of the night before. She turned to look at Azzi, who was still asleep beside her, her hair tousled and her breathing soft and steady.

For a long time, Paige simply watched her. She never imagined herself here, with someone like Azzi—someone so strong, so confident, yet so vulnerable in their own way. The way they had connected, not just physically but emotionally, had transformed something inside Paige. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

Azzi stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and when she saw Paige looking at her, she smiled—soft, genuine, filled with love.

“You’re still here,” Azzi murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They had crossed a line the night before, and yet, for the first time in their relationship, Paige felt completely sure of herself, of them. There was no fear now—only love. A love that was deep, real, and undeniable.

Azzi reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been,” she whispered.

Paige kissed her forehead softly. “Same here.”

It was the beginning of something real, something that couldn’t be broken by the judgment of others or the pressures of the world. They were in this together, and nothing was going to tear them apart.

[lisired]

dead men tell no tales

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, gun usage, descriptions of death and violence

summary: five years ago, you were part of a unit assigned to eliminate the head rival of a crime syndicate. the plan backfired miserably. ever since you have been laying low, but then your former boss calls you with alarming news.

word count: 23k

a/n: part 1/3 of my wanted: dead or alive series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Maybe it was only your paranoid instincts, but from the minute you woke up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about today was very, very off. 

Though to be fair, you always had that feeling. Nowhere was too safe. You were constantly glimpsing over your shoulder and bouncing across the globe to evade potential predators that wanted to stain the walls with your blood. Your mind was always screaming. 

Until you met Johnny, that is. There was something about him that put you at ease from the moment you met eight months ago at a hotel poolside. He was just so damn easygoing and chill. The world could be burning and Johnny would still find a way to make you laugh, as if nothing was ever wrong.  

He was an American nomad, bred of admirable spontaneity, which gave you the perfect excuse to wander without him asking any important questions. Johnny spent months courting you relentlessly and whisking you away on trips all over the world. But it wasn’t his money that drew you to him. You were more interested in his uncanny ability to subdue the monsters in your head. 

You didn’t know how or why, but the cacophony of screams died when you were with Johnny. The reckless, heaving water became gentle waves crashing against the shoreline. 

Now here you were, in some lavish hotel in Monaco with the entire Mediterranean sea right outside your balcony, and you had never been happier. Your whole relationship with Johnny consisted of taking vast trips together. He wasn’t in any rush to settle down and you didn’t have that privilege, though you’d made it abundantly clear you were committed to each other. 

Johnny didn’t want to come on too strong. Getting to know one another was a slow and steady process, given that neither of you were none too forthcoming, but Johnny was adamant on learning all there was to know about you. And to your surprise, he had been moderately successful. 

But there was one tiny secret you never let slip. 

Johnny was snuggling up to you like a baby bear, which was ironic considering the sheer size of him, and it was the cutest thing ever. “I love traveling the world with you,” he mumbled into your neck. 

“One day, it’ll be ours,” you replied, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I don’t want it. I’d give it all to you.”

You snorted and joked, “And let me be solely responsible for all of its ugly? No thank you. I’d prefer we share custody.”

Johnny laughed. Before he could come up with another response, there was a knock at the door of your luxury suite. You glanced towards him, startled. “Did you invite company?” you asked. 

“No, but I did tell my boss where he could find me if anything important came up at work,” Johnny said quietly, apparently as confused as you were. “I’ll get the door.”

You didn’t want to let him go. Most of your life had been spent in shady hotels and you never answered an unknown visitor without a gun. Your survival instincts flared up again, but it wasn’t only yourself that you feared for now. Sometimes you wondered if you were selfishly putting him at risk. 

Any friend of yours was an enemy of your enemies. You had seen them come and go, temporary like everything else in your life, but Johnny was different. You wanted him to stay. 

Almost immediately after Johnny stood to answer the door, tugging his shirt back over his head, your phone began ringing on the nightstand. You recognized the contact and pressed the phone to your ear. “Hey, Doie. What’s up?”

“Are you around anyone?”

Between the curtness of his question and the sharpness in his tone, you couldn’t decide which baffled you more. “Yes. Why?”

“Keep your face straight and your voice level,” Doyoung said sternly. “Can you get away from them?”

You glanced up at Johnny. He’d returned from the door by now with an envelope in hand, watching you with furrowed brows. “Yes.”

“Do it now.”

With a few seconds delay so as to not raise too much suspicion, you rose from the bed and mouthed to Johnny, “Business stuff.” Then you excused yourself to the balcony. 

Johnny nodded in understanding. 

When the balcony door was shut behind you, you spoke up again. “I did what you asked, but I’m at a hotel. He’s nearby.”

“I know,” was all Doyoung said. 

That did nothing but strengthen your bewilderment. “What do you mean by you know?”

Doyoung cut to the chase. He sounded perturbed. “Listen to me very carefully. Margo was killed this morning.”

You gawked. “What?”

“Single shot to the back of the neck. Close distance. No sniper.”

Despite the humid weather outside, the most aggressive shudder shot down your spine. “We can’t be certain that has anything to do with us,” you said, but it was obvious you hadn’t even convinced yourself. 

“I’m certain.”

The balcony door opened and you jolted, but tried to regain your composure when you realized it was only Johnny. “My bad,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m getting my letter opener.”

You nodded, smiling thinly at him. There was no way in hell you wanted to give away the nature of the phone call you were currently having. “How come?”

Doyoung explained, “Sol was killed two weeks ago. He opened a laced letter. Invisible powder. Nobody knew until today because they assumed he was on vacation. You know how he likes to go off-grid. He never even saw it coming.”

“Fuck,” you grumbled under your breath, although Johnny had already slipped back inside as quickly as he’d come. 

“Dispose of your cellphone as soon as possible,” Doyoung instructed, naturally falling back into his position as your supervisor. “Do you remember the location?”

Glancing around, you searched for signs of suspicious activity. It felt like you were being watched. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Of course.”

“Get a burner and message me from that number when you get close. This phone will still be active. I’ll meet you there. Do you copy?”

“Yes,” you said, chilled by that tone. You hadn’t heard it in five years. Not since your last mission together. 

Doyoung hung up. He was curt and to the point like that. When danger was imminent, there was no time to waste on niceties. This was not your friend Doyoung you’d come to know, but the cold leader of a formidable undercover unit. 

Then a thought came to your mind and you rushed back inside the hotel room, immediately finding Johnny and frantically asking, “Did you open the envelope?”

Johnny’s eyes flickered. “No, but I was about to. Why?”

“Don’t touch it. Please.”

Johnny obliged, but he was catching on. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

Rather than answer, you paraded over to your nightstand and retrieved a gun from beneath a stack of magazines in the drawer. Maybe you were considerably less paranoid than before, but you weren’t a dumbass. You still had enemies that would pay a pretty penny to have your head on a stick. 

Johnny gawked at the weapon in your hand, presumably loaded. “Baby, what the hell?”

“So, change of plans,” you started, grabbing your suitcase and hurling it onto the bed, and began to toss your belongings inside. There weren’t many. This life had taunted you never to pack more than what you needed. “We’re going to the United States.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening,” Johnny replied sternly, coming to your side. “Why do you have a gun?”

A sigh escaped your lips and your eyes winced closed. This was the day you had always feared; the one where the time would come for your darkness to come to light. Johnny admired you for the pretty little image of yourself you’d painted in front of him. You weren’t ready for him to see you for who you really were. 

What you really were. 

Johnny pressed his forehead against yours, sensing the distress bubbling within you. He was tender and loving, even in a moment like this. Something more than you deserved. “Look at me.”

You obliged him. Without hesitation. No one thought it would be possible to tame you, but here you were, willingly submitting to a man. Hell must have frozen over. 

Johnny brushed a hand through your hair gingerly, not wanting to startle you away, like you were some new animal adjusting to a stranger. “I don’t know what you might’ve done and what you might’ve seen, but none of that matters to me. I care about you. That will never change,” he told you in a whisper. 

God, you wanted to believe him. It would have made things easier, being able to confide in him about all of the haunting horrors. You shook your head, overpowering your own tears. “Johnny, you don’t understand. I’ve done unforgivable things.”

Johnny’s voice was saccharine. “Then make me understand. Help me help you.”

“I wish it was that easy,” you mumbled, pulling away. You had to finish packing and relocate right now. 

Your stubbornness was nothing new to Johnny, but that didn’t make it any less inconvenient. That said, he could sense the urgency of whatever predicament you had somehow landed yourself in, and started grabbing his things. He sighed, relenting. “How soon do we need to be in the United States?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I know a guy that knows a guy who has a jet,” Johnny told you, quickly folding something to toss into his suitcase. “He can get us there in half a day, maybe less.”

You paused in your tracks, considering your options. There was this unspoken arrangement about your relationship with Johnny. Your inexplicable connections that conveniently helped you out of each other’s dilemmas. But you never pressed him about it, because you couldn’t afford him asking you questions either. 

Out of curiosity’s sake, you asked, “What’s his name?”

“Jaehyun.”

That name rang no bells, but you would’ve been more alarmed if you even vaguely recognized it. “Okay. Call him, but be quick about it.” The people hunting me waste no time. 

Johnny did as told, swiftly taking his phone out of his pocket and heading into the bathroom to make a call. 

With the last of your things zipped away in your suitcase, you had no choice but to sit there waiting for something to happen, which was not your favorite hobby ever. There were stories, in the underworld, of snipers that could stay awake for days waiting on the perfect opportunity to eliminate their subs. 

Johnny crossed your mind again and you shuddered, worries heightening. You glanced over at the letter. It had been addressed to him, not you, however, that only made you assume your hunters had something worse in store for you. Something darker. 

Though on the other hand, it made you hyper aware of the darkness you had sucked Johnny into solely by associating with him. Your boyfriend was now a liability, exactly as you’d feared, but you refused to leave him to fend for himself. They had made plain that they knew what he was worth to you and you’d be damned if you let him die for the sake of your survival. 

The assassins tracking down your unit like prey weren’t bunglers and there was no doubt that they’d be coming after you next. You had spent months studying the intricacies of the assignment and attempting to comprehend their behavior. Every breakthrough brought you closer to confirming the identity of the leader until it was all suddenly over. 

Someone snitched. You still didn’t know who for certain, but you doubted they were a member of the original seven proxies assigned to the unit. Four of them were dead. There were only three of you left, as far as you knew. 

Thus you did everything in your power to lay low and make yourself even more elusive. You were ever on the move, denying yourself the freedom that came with becoming too comfortable. Then, you met Johnny this year in February, on a mission in Long Beach. He had been a normal guy at some fancy hotel, never meant to be more than one night of drunken fun. So you were pleasantly surprised when one night became eight months. 

And even more so when you subsequently forfeited your career. You hadn’t fully recovered from that life and you doubted you ever would, but Johnny made it easier to live with your unjustifiable mistakes. He saw something in you that no one else did. Not even yourself. 

If only you knew what. 

Johnny emerged from the bathroom, the sound of the door opening drawing your attention to him. “Good news,” he started, heading for the bed. “He’s available. It should be ready for us when we get there.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” you said, tucking away your gun. 

If Johnny had any more questions, and you knew full well he did, he still didn’t ask. 

Like Johnny had said, the private jet was waiting for the two of you when you arrived and you hurriedly climbed aboard. They knew where you were. Why they hadn’t taken you out when they had the chance was a mystery, but you decided to count your blessings. You were (for now) still alive and that was all that mattered. 

You tried to get some sleep, given that you would be up and flying for a good minute, but to no avail. You usually found plane rides oddly peaceful, but there were a million thoughts in your mind vying for your attention all at once. It was all you could do not to think about your hidden career. 

It had its perks, the coin stained in other people’s blood, and the companionship of a few of the friends you’d met along the way, but most people in the underworld were not exactly affable and there was always a fear in the back of your mind that one day it would be you who died for the gain of another. 

Johnny laced his fingers through yours and you glanced over at him. “Talk to me,” he murmured, sweet as ever.  

You shook your head. You had met many perceptive people in your lifetime, but Johnny took the cake. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” Johnny said, reaching for your other hand and also taking it in his. “You can talk to me about anything.”

You glimpsed down at your intertwined hands, then back up at his deep brown eyes. They were too damn discerning. “There’s something about me you don’t know.”

Johnny said nothing, but those words made him raise a brow. He was silently gesturing for you to continue, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

God dammit, was he trying to disarm you? Because it was working. You hated how easy it was for him to render you vulnerable. You - the most formidable of proxies this generation had ever known. 

The thought made you laugh, which Johnny obviously wasn’t expecting. You shook your head and explained, “I’m shocked you haven’t left me. Most people would have wanted no parts the second they saw the strap.”

“Can I hold it?”

You burst into laughter again. Like hell. “You want me to give you a loaded weapon? I don’t know what you know. That’s like giving a bomb to a baby.”

Johnny chuckled, but he sobered almost immediately after, loosely draping an arm over your shoulder. “Hey, for the record, it’s gonna take a lot more than a gun to make me wanna leave you. I’m crazy about you,” he confessed, whispering. “And the way I see it, you’re a little crazy all on your own.”

You grinned, appreciating the way he could say something serious and make you giggle in the same minute. “Maybe I am.” 

“By the way,” Johnny began gingerly, as if one wrong move would startle you away. Which wasn’t too far off. “Why didn’t you want me to touch that letter earlier?”

The amusement quickly fell from your lips and the change was not lost on Johnny. The space around you was virtually silent till you willed yourself to murmur, “I think it was laced.”

Johnny blinked in shock. “Laced? Like that Amerithrax shit?”

You shrugged. “Something like that. I don’t think it’s anthrax, but whatever it is, it’s just as deadly. Killed someone I know just from opening it. I got the call about his death this morning.”

“Damn, baby,” Johnny said with a wince, taken aback. “What did he do to deserve that?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled under your breath.

It was obvious you didn’t intend on elaborating any further than you already had and Johnny didn’t press, especially became a more jarring thought came. “But the letter was addressed to me,” he pointed out, clearly confused. “Not to you.”

“I know. They don’t want to kill me off immediately, for whatever reason.” 

“That means you’re special, I guess.” 

A chill shot down your spine. You already knew, but him saying it aloud made it true. For some inexplicable reason, they wanted to play the long game with you by watching you suffer. 

“I’m sleepy,” you said. A lie, but a convenient one. You wanted to be alone in your thoughts a little longer. “I think I’ll rest my eyes.”

Johnny chuckled. “For only a few seconds, I’m guessing?”

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Johnny whispered, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to the temple of your forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Night, Johnny,” you murmured.

After a few moments of thinking of the unthinkable future, you eventually tormented yourself to sleep, waking up some hours later with your head on Johnny’s shoulder. You wholeheartedly blamed him. He was holding your hand delicately, caressing the back of it the entire time. Almost like he knew you needed it. 

You weren’t as relieved as you thought you would be when you touched down in the United States. Ironically, you felt less exposed to danger thousands of feet above the ocean than you did on American soil. Johnny was turning you soft. You’d rather be somewhere in his arms. 

The safe house you would be holing up in until further notice was given to you by one of your trusted American contacts. It wasn’t particularly easy to find, which was a nuisance for you today, but something you would undoubtedly be grateful for later on. The place was a far cry from luxurious, but it was low-key, and that was enough to keep you happy. 

“Ah. Feels just like home,” Johnny said with a bucket load of sarcasm.

Dragging your luggage inside, your shoulders shook as you laughed. “I’ve gotta make a call.” Then, you nudged his side gently and quipped, “Be a good boy and don’t talk to any strangers while I’m gone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny chirped obediently. 

You entered the kitchen. It was small, cramped. Not that you would be doing much eating when you were stressed like this. You grabbed the burner phone you’d picked up on the way and dialed a number from memory, hoping you wouldn’t be too late. 

The phone rang for a while. You almost thought that nobody would answer, for a multitude of reasons, until you finally heard a chary, “Who’s this?”

“Mark.” You sighed in relief. “Thank god. It’s me. Are you holding up okay?”

“So you got that call too, huh?” Mark asked, though it was obvious. You had no other reason to be calling. You didn’t mean to be distant, but it was not often you reached out to your former co-workers. 

But it was still good to hear his voice. With two of your other co-workers gone one week after the other, it was clear they were hunting each of you down one by one. “I got it last night,” you replied, exhaling through your nose. “This morning, technically. Monaco is seven hours ahead of Illinois.”

You could hear movement in the background, like he was actively packing his things with his ear pressed to his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m leaving Canada. I should get over there in a couple of hours. I was actually just about to toss this phone. You have great timing.”

That surprised you. Mark was the opposite of you, feeling safer in one place that felt like home rather than never getting too comfortable anywhere. “You’re not staying in Toronto? You haven’t left in years.”

“They killed my sister,” Mark hissed. You could hear the hurt in his voice, the bite in his tone. He was who you were worried about most. “I know that I’m probably being led into a kill box, but I can’t just stay here. I’ll put a bullet in her killer’s head myself by the time this shit blows over.”

“Mark,” you started, but you knew there was no use. 

Mark said your name sternly. “I already made up my mind. I’m on my way. I should be seeing you and Doyoung later.”

You blew out a breath. “Okay. Get here safe. Please.”

“I will,” he said reassuringly. “Be as careful as you can, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Wait.”

You were just about to hang up when he spoke those words in the nick of time. “Yes?”

Mark’s tone was accustory, “Your boytoy’s with you. Isn’t he?”

You stifled a sigh. There it was, the cons of being buddies with proxies as good at their jobs as you were. “He’s at risk. They sent him the envelope. Not me. They will hurt him to get to me.”

“Maybe,” Mark said, obviously none too convinced by that possibility. “Or maybe it’s a setup. You could be his sub.”

Glancing around the area to make sure Johnny was out of earshot, you whispered, “Mark, I’ve given my life to this field and the sick people infesting it. He’s as normal as they get.”

“Is he?”

“Mark,” you snapped. 

Mark let it die. “Fine. But you better be in one piece next time I see you, or it’s him I’m going after.”

Well, there was no use in arguing with him when he used that tone. It firmly indicated that he meant business. “Don’t worry,” you said softly, glimpsing around again. “Bye, Mark.”

When the call was over, you slipped the burner into your pocket and braced yourself for your next task. You had to make sure this place was secure enough to hold you for the upcoming nights. 

Nine years in the industry had taught you that there was no such thing as being too safe and it was always in your best interest to be virtually untraceable. You double checked every window, making sure they were all locked. You also clocked a number of potential exits and noted all of your options. 

It was borderline impossible to rest knowing that your life was at stake, and you damn sure wouldn’t make yourself an easy kill. If somebody really wanted you dead, they had their work cut out for them. You had spent too much time building up your power to let it be snatched out of your hands without a fight. 

With the house taken care of, you could breathe a little easier in relief. You took out the burner and typed in the number you had memorized. In the city. I’m ready whenever you are. 

Delivered. No matter how much you hated it, you felt like a sitting duck amongst sharp-toothed sharks. 

“Had enough?” Johnny asked, poking his head around the corner. He’d seen you checking out the windows. 

You’d heard his footsteps, knowing he was coming. It might have come off as excessively paranoid, or obsessively so, but you were a listener, and recognizing the distinct sounds of someone’s steps had saved your life. More than once. “Yeah, I think so. Just had to make sure the safe house is really safe.”

Johnny chortled, fully entering the living room now, and walked over to sit beside you. “We’re in the middle of only God knows where. I think we’ll be pretty okay, baby.”

“I sure hope so,” you muttered. 

Johnny cocked his head. “You said there’s something about you that I don’t know, but you never told me what.”

And that was how it would stay. At least for now. The phone call with Mark reminded you of what was at stake and you had to remember that everyone was a suspect. “I didn’t?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to,” Johnny assured you gently, resting a hand on your back. “But I want you to remember that this is bigger than you. Assuming whoever is after you knows about us, my life is at stake too. Not only yours.”

Something bitter scorched its way down your throat. He wasn’t exactly wrong. It was a conclusion you had already come to, but that didn’t mean you weren’t opposed. The fact that someone had attempted to take him out angered you to no end. “I know that. And I’ll come clean. But not right now.”

Those words brooked no argument, and knowing your tendency to keep things close to your chest, Johnny asked instead, “When do we move out?”

You stretched your arms above your head, hoping to shake the tense feeling within you in spite of knowing it had nothing to do with your muscles. “The minute I get the call. I let my former supervisor know that we landed. He’s not exactly the sociable type, but he’ll let me know when we’re clear.”

“You two must get along great then,” Johnny quipped. 

You rolled your eyes, recognizing his attempts at humor, but softened. “Listen, Johnny. I’m sorry I got you dragged into this mess. I never meant for you to see this part of me, but my past is coming back to bite me in the ass.”

Johnny’s brows knitted together. “Are you an assassin or something?”

“Yes, and that’s all you need to know right now,” you said, crossing your legs on the chair.

Silence prevailed for a brief moment and you were worried you had reasonably startled Johnny, but you were surprised when he said, “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty daunting news, but I don’t give a fuck what you are, baby.”

Those were the last words you expected to come out of his mouth and you couldn’t decide if they were alarmed or comforting. “Are you sure?”

“Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure you had your reasons,” Johnny said, pulling you into his brawny arms. Not afraid of you. “I already told you, there’s nothing in this world that could change how I feel about you. I love you.”

Every muscle in your body went rigid. Although you had been dating for almost a whole year, you and Johnny had never muttered those three words until now. And it had been even longer since you’d heard them. 

Your face was stiff and you didn’t make a move, but somehow Johnny could sense the panic within you. He had always been good at seeing plain through the walls you put up to protect yourself. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted you to know.”

That confused you to no end. “You don’t at least want to know if I love you back?”

Johnny sounded amused, which was the last reaction you were expecting. “I already know. It’s in everything you do. If you didn’t love me, you would have wordlessly left me in Monaco to die,” he said, gathering some of your hair in his hands and brushing it out of the way. “But I want you to say it when you’re ready and not a second before.”

You nodded, trying to play off the fact that your heart was beating quicker. How did he always just know? 

Johnny moved his hand to your cheek, his touch featherlight, and continued, “I know something nightmarish is happening and you probably feel like the whole world is out to get you. Do whatever you think is right. Trust your gut and nothing else. Not your supervisor, not your friends. Not even me.”

You stared into Johnny’s eyes when he pulled back. They were deep and brown and hypnotic, pulling you clean under his spell in one fatal swoop. Like you were holding a gun and he was whispering in your ear for you to pull the trigger. 

It was dangerous to love somebody to that extent and you knew it, but you were past the point of no return. Johnny was your one weakness, the only thing that could blind you. Your enemies were smart in targeting him first, but foolish to think you would let them take him away from you so easily. 

With his hand still on your cheek, Johnny flirted, “May I ask you to lower your guard for a few moments while I kiss you, or am I asking for too much?”

“It’s okay,” you replied, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance. “You can kiss me.”

Johnny beamed in excitement. When his lips crashed against yours, you remembered why you were even here with him in the first place. Your body relaxed in his arms, knowing it was safe there, shielded from all the dangers of your twisted world. Johnny knew exactly how to disarm you, lowering all your many defenses. 

His mouth fell downwards onto your throat and you knew what he was doing, but you couldn’t be bothered to stop him. You needed the relief and the place was secure enough. What was a little bonding time between two lovers? 

“Mind if I take this to the bedroom?” Johnny asked, slipping a hand up your blouse. 

You nodded, biting your lip. 

Johnny effortlessly hoisted you into his burly arms and carried you into the bedroom, tossing you onto the bed. You giggled as he crawled over you, threading your fingers through his dark hair to pull his mouth back onto yours. There was no delaying the soft sighs you made as Johnny felt up your body. 

The two of you stayed there like that together for the longest time, your hands falling onto his broad shoulders and his grabbing a handful of your boobs. More often than not, sex was a game of patience. You were both stubborn in your own way, scheming to utterly ravage each other. 

For some reason, Johnny was an expert at both dominating and manipulating your body, and for some even weirder reason, you let him. He always seemed to intuitively know what you needed and how you needed it. No one understood you like that. Johnny was the first human being you had let get close enough to wield that kind of power over you, and it was equally as sexy as it was unnerving. 

You shuddered at the feeling of his big hands as they advanced down your thighs. They were so cold sometimes. Back when you first got together and holding hands gave you the most outrageous butterflies, you used to tease that he was like a snake or something. 

In the heat of your kisses, shirts were thrown and pants were tossed. You gawked at the sight of Johnny’s toned abs even though you had already seen them a thousand times before. He preferred to travel to countries with plenty of sunshine and hot sand. Naturally, you’d seen him shirtless in a year more than you’d seen your mother. 

“Fuck me,” you moaned, simmering with yearning. Your hands wandered down his burly chest.

When they finally reached the navy blue shorts you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why he was still wearing, you grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s half-hard cock, and he tensed with the same thought. Johnny may have prided himself on his extreme willpower and self-control, but you knew a thing or three about ruining men, and you were damn good at it. 

It was obvious you were up to no good. You met Johnny’s stare as you pumped his cock stiff in your hands, watching him falter. He was melting right there between your fingers. If only he was fully naked. You would have been trailing kisses down the base of his cock. 

You smirked when you heard him groan your name under his breath. That long thread of patience was unraveling. There was this battle between the two of you, taking turns sending each other into oblivion. The thing about you and Johnny was that sex started long before any clothes came off. 

Johnny swatted your hand away. Gently, of course. “Okay,” he said in that firm tone that meant he’d had enough. 

You couldn’t resist a satisfied grin. There was nothing like making a masculine man like himself lose control. 

Johnny took the lead, sticking a hand between your legs, which you voluntarily widened for him without having to be told. He liked how submissive you became when in bed with him and chuckled faintly to himself, teasing his hand over the damp spot in your panties, and tempted to toy with you until you soaked through both sides. 

It wasn’t that Johnny was very patient. You had the upper hand in that regard. But what he lacked in patience he made up for in obstinacy, which you both had an ample amount of, and made things all the more exhilarating.

You were sighing softly underneath him, your body gently arching into his touch as you felt yourself burn from the sheer proximity of his body to yours alone, and Johnny appreciated every second. There was a certain pleasure he got out of making you crack. You were tough and composed, something you prided yourself on, but something about breaking you felt like getting a small taste of your inner chaos. 

A glimpse behind the forbidden door. 

“Johnny,” you called out, trying not to sound whiny. 

It didn’t help. Johnny could still read your body language flawlessly. He stifled a smirk, playing dumb. “Hm?”

You scowled at him. Not out of any genuine anger, of course. Though maybe a hint of frustration. You knew he was baiting you to the point of begging, wanting to satiate his ever hungry ego. 

“Don’t you think it would be nice of you to do something?” you asked. 

“I am doing something,” Johnny replied as if he was totally clueless to what you wanted. “I’m touching you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are. And it’s very generous of you to do that,” you said with a hint of sarcasm. “But maybe you could consider going the extra mile.”

“The extra mile? Oh, you mean, like, this?”

Johnny dipped a hand underneath the waistband of your underwear and your lips parted in a shaky gasp as you braced his shoulders again, instantly squirming. Your legs reflexively closed on him, but Johnny didn’t even blink, merely spreading them wide again with his free hand as he listened for the sweet sound of your pleasure. 

“Am I right on the money?” he asked knowingly, finally letting that sly grin come out to play. 

He was right on something. It may not have been money, but you could feel his thumb on your clit and it was making you shudder. You nodded, your whole body feeling electric. Your toes curled and your hands dropped, balling into fists on the sheets.

You could feel how hard he was as he leaned over you, his body damn near flush against yours, tauntingly close. The very hard bulge in his shorts was all you could feel in your thigh. Johnny ignored it. Which was getting increasingly harder the more he watched you whimper and tense with need, aching to be filled, but he wanted to play a little more. 

Johnny decided to go another mile and slid a pair of long, thick digits inside your heat with no resistance from your body. You sucked him in, wet and ready, and Johnny watched the tension on your face elevate. 

Your entire body was begging you to stop being stubborn and give in to Johnny’s demands if it meant he would do something to cease the endless throbbing in your core, but as good as his fingers felt in you and even better you knew his dick would feel, you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Though it certainly wasn’t more than what he deserved. 

“You asshole,” you said, torn between your desires. 

Johnny flinched, but smiled at your sudden outburst. “What I do now?”

You pretended to be angry, grumbling, “Making me want you. Fuck. You’re a piece of shit. I hate you.”

Johnny chuckled. He knew you didn’t mean a single word. You just didn’t want to admit that you needed him, even though everything in how your body was responding to his touches said more than enough. “You won’t be saying that when I fuck you,” he replied confidently. 

“And when exactly will that be?”

“When I feel like it.”

You rolled your eyes. He could be so damn annoying. There was only room for one stubborn bitch in this relationship. You pointed out, “You’re hard.”

“So?”

You narrowed your eyes. “So, don’t you feel like it right now?”

“Nope,” Johnny replied with feigned indifference, pushing his fingers in and out of you and watching how you accepted them desperately. The whole thing made him wish it was his cock in you instead. 

You didn’t buy that at all. Johnny wasn’t invincible, no matter how hard he tried. And his horniness was through the roof. “Johnny, fuck me.”

Johnny thought you bossing him around, or at least attempting to, was funny. “Say please.”

“Johnny, fuck me. Please,” you grumbled. 

“Now was that so hard?” he asked, looking relatively pleased. 

You didn’t get the chance to answer, because before you knew it, Johnny withdrew his digits from your sopping hole and stepped out of his shorts. He slipped your panties to the side and lined himself up with your entrance, his eyes on your cunt the entire time as he watched his cock steadily disappear inside. 

Johnny’s hands clamped tightly onto your thighs as he sank deeper, tipping his head back with a moan at the hot, tight sensation of your pussy gushing around his cock. He tried to will himself to go slow, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much, but the way you were throbbing was testing his patience. And his restraint. 

You were out of breath and he had hardly even done anything so far. The size of him never failed to knock the wind of you. It didn’t matter how many times you fucked, or how much he prepared you, Johnny still managed to taunt your limits. 

“Jesus. Fuck,” you exhaled, craving his warmth and wanting to escape him in equal measure. Your hands grappled for something, anything, to ground yourself. When Johnny took you, he took you somewhere far, far away from earth. 

Johnny would have been worried, if not for the fact that you had wound your legs snugly around his waist, forcing him deeper. He smirked. “Can I move, baby?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Move.”

Johnny groaned as he started to push in and out of you, dragging his thick cock through your walls. He never got used to this either. Maybe it was only in his mind, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you got tighter the more he fucked you. Wetter the more he stretched you out. 

No one had ever made you feel this way before. You’d had meaningless sex a dozen times and then some, but this was something much different. There was so much passion seeping from your bodies and it made the ecstasy skyrocket tenfold. So much love, dare you say. 

But the control Johnny had over your body was your favorite part by far. The orgasms brought by his will were the most powerful you’d ever had. They felt like you were releasing a dark part of you that had quietly attached itself to your soul. Johnny was good at showing you that if you let him take the lead, if you let go, he could bring you to elysian heights. 

You thought for certain you were bound for hell, but damn, Johnny made you see heaven. And now that you knew what heaven felt like, you didn’t want to consider any other option. 

Johnny could see it on your face. He always could. In the bedroom, at least. Out there, you could be cold and inscrutable, but when he was bringing you to your peak, there was no part of you that he didn’t see. “Still hate me?” he asked teasingly. 

“No,” you stammered out. You wanted to say you loved him, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. Don’t say anything,” Johnny whispered, pressing sweet kisses along your throat and collarbone. “Just take me.”

You relaxed in his arms, succumbing to the building pressure in your core as Johnny took and took from your body, speeding up his steady rhythm. You loved when he did that. Though you knew Johnny valued your pleasure deeply, there was something about when he availed you, of how he bled you dry.

Johnny knew you would let him if he asked. You would let him do anything he wanted if it meant he’d be satisfied in the end. It was his reward for loving you without conditions. You were his beautiful, sick little lion that he’d tamed.

“You’re perfect for me. You know that?” Johnny asked a little breathlessly. “All for me.”

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, grabbing Johnny’s hair and pulling him down to you. His chest was flush against yours and you could feel the sweat of his body mingling with your own and the vicious thud of his heart as he moved. 

You found his lips and kissed him hungrily, too hooked on passion to care about kissing him perfectly. The desperation in your touches only made Johnny want you more. He matched your energy and met his lips to yours with the same amount of fervor, if not crazier. You heard him groan and the sound did everything to turn you on. 

There was no denying his fire for you and you appreciated every single bit. His skin burned, hot and sticky with a glistening sheen of dampness. Johnny was just as insane for and about you as you were over him, his body said so. Though it helped that he wasn’t shy with his words. 

Johnny brought one hand between your legs and the other to your throat that was stained in marks leftover from his kisses. You were already weak and he knew exactly how to make you even weaker. You gasped when you realized what he was doing, looking into his eyes and finding nothing but a darkness that said he wanted to ravage you. It made you tighten. 

You felt something in your stomach tighten when you saw Johnny’s face change, tensing with the wound of pleasure. He mumbled curses under his breath in a voice that made you shudder. You knew then that you weren’t far. He was going to finish you. 

“Johnny, I’m close,” you told him through heavy pants. 

Johnny tightened his grip on you, moving his hand faster over your clit. He chuckled when you moaned. “Yeah, you wanna come? Tell me how bad you need it.”

“God, Johnny. Please,” you begged, knowing he wanted to gauge how much he turned you on, how good he pressed your buttons. “I need to come. I need you. I can’t hold it. You feel too good. Oh my fuck.”

“Then go ahead. Let go for me, baby,” Johnny commanded darkly, watching you expectantly. He knew you were about to fall apart any moment now. 

And you did. Your orgasm took hold of you and slammed you down onto the surface, and you felt the impact in every bone of your body. But rather than a dull ache, it was a heady euphoria. Johnny was there to sweep you into his arms, whispering sweet nothings as he coaxed you through every second like a gentleman.

He tried to act like the way you clamped around him and cursed out his name when you trembled with climax wasn’t getting to him, but Johnny was starting to melt into your heat and he couldn’t help how much getting you off got him off. It was too natural. He looked down at you proudly, taking in the sight of you laying there, trying to collect yourself. 

You tried to take it as he continued to pound you out, trying to make himself come now than he had taken care of you, but it was making your head spin. “Johnny,” you whined. 

Johnny raised a brow, playing innocent. “What? I didn’t say I was done with you. Now did I?” 

You swallowed sharply. This wasn’t the first time he had fucked you through your orgasm and then some, but he was damn good at making it feel like it was. 

“You tapping out on me?” Johnny taunted, knowing it would do the trick. You always had something to prove. 

You shook your head. It was too much for you, but that was exactly the point. You let Johnny decide how much you could handle. He was the one in charge, like it or not. “No. Never.”

“Good,” Johnny chirped, satisfied. “You know what to say if you change your mind.”

You had a safe word, but you remembered using it only once. The word lingered in your mind but didn’t dare escape your lips. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to take you until there was nothing left. And then take some more. 

Your silence was loud as ever and Johnny grinned, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He continued to have his way with you, his hands gentle as they wandered your entire body, but his hips slapping against yours with a vengeance as he tried to drive himself over the edge. 

It wouldn’t be long. Johnny wanted to keep fucking you forever, die tangled together limb to limb, but with every hit through your slick walls he felt his grip on his restraint slack. You were breaking him down, piece by piece.

You couldn’t think straight. You could barely even see, your vision hazy with the faint sting of tears in your eyes. Johnny had once told you that there was a thin line between pain and pleasure and now he was taking you there. He delicately kissed your face and chest all over as he overstimulated you, making you teeter. 

“Johnny, come,” you whispered, coaxing him to finish while still playing meek. “I want you to fuck me full. Please. Oh my god.”

Johnny grunted at the thought of fucking you full of his cum and the memory flickering into his brain. He tightened his hold on your body, hands falling to your perfect hips, and moved even faster. You gasped when he sank his teeth into your neck, fiending for you. All of you. 

You took it like you were made to take him. Your soft moans and sweet cries were unraveling Johnny quicker than he would have liked, making his dick twitch inside you, and it was only a matter of seconds until he lost the fight. 

It was insane how much power you wielded over each other. You knew all the right places to touch, all the right words, all the right things to say. There were no limits. Only getting lost in the endless cosmos of each other. 

Johnny closed his eyes as he at last came with a delicious, guttural groan that made you burn with the urge to suck the soul out of him. He kept fucking you until he felt like stopping, his warmth flooding into your wet pussy, and the sensation made you moan. 

When he was finally sated, he collapsed against your chest, smothering you with the weight of him that you loved. You could feel his tired breath on your neck and the heat of his body against yours, and it was oddly comforting. 

Johnny lifted his head from the crook of your neck to peer into your eyes, asking, “You okay?”

You nodded. “I’m good. Thank you for that.”

Johnny chuckled. He could feel the tension leaving your body and he was proud, and more than glad, to be of service. “Pleasure is my business and I aim to satisfy.”

You giggled at his words, wounding your arms around his broad shoulders while you held him close. You knew you would have to get up one way or another, but not right now. This was your time to simply be there for each other. 

And that was what you did, but then you had a mischievous thought and it was all you could do not to snicker as you untangled yourself from Johnny’s arms. He was reluctant to let you go, but relented, watching you with curious eyes. 

You brought your hand down to his now soft cock, toying with him as you tried to get him up again. There was an untamed look in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Johnny.

He tensed immediately when he felt your hands on him. His voice was suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” you replied in a tone that was way too innocent to be believable. 

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re doing something.”

You giggled, gently shoving at him. It didn’t work, but Johnny took it as a sign that you wanted him to shift, and so he sat up on the bed. You followed, returning your hand between his legs as you stroked him back rigid. 

“Are you really trying to make me come again?”

You shrugged. That was only half your goal. You wanted to make him lose his mind, and the best way to do that was to give him a nut he would always remember. “Why not? Don’t tell me that’s all you got for me, handsome?”

“I always got more for you,” Johnny flirted without hesitation. 

You smirked, moving from the bed and sinking onto your knees. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Johnny had only just managed to recover his breathing when he felt his breath start to hitch again as you pumped him stiff in your hands, which only took a few moments. You were his vice. Nothing got him hard like you, the thought of you, and the promise of fucking you. 

When he was ready, you took him into your mouth slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You kept your fist around the base of his cock, figuring it would be best to have multiple sensations. Johnny groaned. It was one thing to fist his own cock, but when you were the one doing it, it was like his entire body was in flames. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, tangling his fingers through your hair none too gently. He knew you liked it a little rough, knew you didn’t feel alive without pain. 

Your supple hands moved just fast enough to make Johnny want more and your mouth took just enough of him that you weren’t gagging. He was a really big boy. Though you knew you could fit more, you wanted to draw things out for as long as you could, slowly tasting his shaft with your tongue. 

Johnny gave your cheek a little impatient slap when he started to get annoyed with your teasing. This was the only man you would let touch you like that and get away with it. Mainly because it was hot coming from him and you liked pushing his buttons. 

Ignoring the faint burn of his palm on your cheek, you obliged his silent command, knowing better than to test him. He wouldn’t hesitate to take away all the power you thought you had right now and have you at his mercy. You took more of him into your mouth, head bobbing around his cock. 

“Shit, baby. Like that. Suck me just like that,” Johnny moaned. You loved the breathlessness in his voice, the way he sounded borderline desperate. And you loved knowing that it was only for you even more. 

Johnny watched you suck him off like it was the driving force behind your life, seemingly having your fill of teasing him. He gathered another fistful of your hair, using it to keep you in check. You looked so pretty on your knees for him, kneading his cock with your perfect tongue. 

It was everything you knew it would be, knew he would be unable to resist. You wanted to see him unravel one good time before the night was over, no matter the cost. The bruises forming on your knees and the dull soreness developing in your throat be damned. 

You loved pleasing Johnny. Not only because you got pleasure from having the power to make a dominant man like him lose his shit, though that was a significant part of it. There was a giving side of you that just wanted to see him content as his reward for making you feel safe and comfortable. 

The violent need for control you had stemmed from a lifelong struggle with power. You had been completely helpless before and now you wanted to conquer the unconquerable. There was nothing that would stand between you and what you wanted. After being denied so many times, you became the villain and began to take. 

But Johnny was just as stubborn as you, if not more. He couldn’t be bent into shape and he would never bend to anyone’s will. Though it took you a minute to accept, you liked that about him. He didn’t view you as something to be feared. And he seized control over you without making you feel like something to own. 

There was no way in hell you could repay him for that, but you knew he would settle for a mind-numbing blowjob.

Johnny grumbled curses under his breath as he started to rock into your throat without warning, setting a rhythm of his own. He was close to the edge and he needed to come. You weren’t prepared. You gagged a little bit, eyes burning. But you didn’t complain. 

“I’m gonna come,” Johnny warned, though it was relatively obvious. “Take it all for me, baby. I know you can.”

You allowed Johnny to fuck your throat as he so pleased, desperately trying to handle his aggressive pace and willing yourself not to gag by sheer force. The throbbing between your thighs had returned and you chastised yourself for getting horny over being used. 

Johnny tipped his head back with a moan he couldn’t stifle before looking back down at you again, something sharp and hungry in his stare. You looked up and met his gaze, your eyes misty with unshed tears, and the sight made him bust on the spot. 

His thighs trembled as he released, painting the back of your throat with a load of hot cum you attempted to swallow. He hissed in something like pain but not quite there, his grip tightening on your hair, inadvertently pulling your face flush against his balls. 

It was a sight you would never forget. The way his handsome face tensed perfectly in a dangerous kind of ecstasy, a deep groan of your name escaping his lips. The way he swallowed as he accepted his defeat. It was absolutely beautiful. 

Johnny panted, pulling you off him and wiping a stray tear from your face with his thumb. “You win. This time. Next time I won’t go easy on you.”

Your voice was a little hoarse from the rough fucking it had received as you snickered and replied, “If that was you going easy on me, I’d hate to see you going hard.” 

Johnny smirked. “Please. You love when I go hard.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. 

Johnny ushered you to the bathroom for a shower. Though it was much smaller than you knew he was used to, he didn’t complain. He was mostly focused on taking care of you and worshiping your body after ravaging it. Which was only fair. 

You fell asleep in record time, tangled in his embrace. Nights with Johnny ensured the easiest sleep you had ever gotten. There was something about the arms of a big, strong man like him that easily lured you someplace far away. They were the safest place in the world. 

Morning came and Johnny rose before you did, gingerly slipping from behind you. Watching your face as he climbed out of the bed, he was careful to make sure you didn’t stir. The last thing he wanted was to wake you up when you were blissfully oblivious. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and started out. 

Johnny glanced at you one more time before leaving. You looked so peaceful, curled up into the blankets. He’d noticed that you had this uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any given time. He shook his head and made for the door. Most nights he lay awake. 

Something didn’t feel right. You noticed the empty spot in the small bed and the lack of arms around your body immediately upon rousing. That was weird. Where had Johnny gone? Did he leave in pursuit of coffee? Or did someone get to him while you were sleeping?

You told yourself you were being ridiculous and tossed the blankets off your body, sliding your feet into a pair of slippers. The possibilities were endless, but it was reasonable to assume Johnny was still in the house somewhere. He wouldn’t have gone without a fight. And there was no doubt you would have heard a struggle. 

The sound of his voice coming from the living room made you grind to a halt in the tiny, dark hallway. He sounded like he was speaking on the phone. You tried to make out who he was talking to, but his responses gave nothing away. They were too straightforward. 

Much like how you were trained to answer questions on the phone when the wrong people were privy to your conversations. 

You lingered in the hall, wondering whether you should have approached or not. Something told you not to give yourself away just yet, but something else told you to stop treating Johnny like a sub by spying on him. Fuck’s sake, he was your partner. 

Before you could decide, Johnny hung up the phone and started for the kitchen. You acted like you were casually walking down the hallway and greeted him sweetly. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Johnny replied, slipping his fingers through yours as he led you into the kitchen with him. “I made coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Johnny added playfully, “For myself. But you’re more than welcome to have some.”

You rolled your eyes. He was only kidding, but you always loved how much energy this guy could have in the morning. You were an early riser because it was built into you. Johnny was just a productive kind of man. 

The kitchen was uncomfortably crowded even with only the two of you inside, so you shifted over to the slightly larger living room while you drank coffee together. Johnny was sitting beside you on the couch with his spare hand instinctively resting on your thigh, tracing circles on your exposed skin. 

Your eyes flickered to his naked back for all of two seconds before you willed yourself to focus on the important bits. “I heard you on the phone earlier,” you mentioned, getting a conversation rolling. 

Johnny seemed totally relaxed, as if he had nothing to hide. “Did you now?” 

“Yeah, I did,” you replied, glancing back down at his hand on your thigh before meeting his eyes. “Who were you talking to?”

Johnny realized by now that you were doubting him in some way, and he was quick to explain, “I was talking to my mom, letting her know that we might have to do a rain check. You and I were supposed to fly out and see her this weekend. Remember?”

That was true. Your last night in Monaco was always meant to be yesterday regardless of how the day’s events played out. “Ah,” you replied, quiet. It would have been your first time meeting his mother. Which meant things were serious. “Well, you’re still close to home.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Johnny said. “She did most of the talking. I was trying to keep her from getting worried without revealing too much information.”

That was a perfectly logical explanation and you believed him wholeheartedly. You made a face, feeling guilty for suspecting someone as harmless as Johnny. Maybe that phone call with Mark the other day was making you even more paranoid than you already were. 

That was the way of life around here, though. Your kind didn’t believe in being innocent until proven guilty. It was the other way around. As much as you wanted to deny it, Mark had a valid point. You needed to hold Johnny to the same standard that you held henchmen. 

But you still felt bad. In your mind, Johnny was probably the last person you needed to be evaluating. “I’m sorry,” you whispered with obvious guilt. 

“Don’t apologize,” Johnny told you, patting your thigh. “You want to be safe. I get it. Like I said, trust your gut.”

You swallowed. That was the problem. You had always trusted your gut, but between her and your heart, you couldn’t tell the difference when you were with Johnny. “There’s an old saying in the underground, uh, my former boss told me. Death that tastes like sugar is poison.”

Johnny cocked his head, staring deeply into your eyes. And maybe your soul. “What’s it mean?”

“That something that seems too good to be true probably is,” you said, your gaze unfaltering as you watched him watch you. 

Johnny took that in stride, chuckling. Draping an arm over you, he asked softly, “How do you sleep at night when you’re always looking over your shoulder?”

“Because I have you next to me,” you quipped.

Johnny laughed. “Good answer.”

Playfully ruining the mood, you added, “And your dick also makes a good lullaby. You wear me out.”

“Better answer,” Johnny replied, leaning in to meet his lips to yours in a gentle, intimate kiss. The feeling of your body made him feel warm all over. 

You kissed him back, hands combing through his hair. And he was sweet as sugar.

You soon forgot all about your suspicions and tried to forget about your worries as well, but it was much harder done than said. Keeping your mind off the madness was like pulling teeth. Johnny wanted to help, but the more he tried to comfort you, the more shame and dread made your stomach ache. 

You were just antsy. Waiting on a phone call or something from Doyoung was leaving you on edge. The silence was suffocating. Any moment you could die and the people hunting you had a solid five different ways to take you out of the picture. For good. 

At the same time, you were thinking of Johnny’s comfort too. You could tell he didn’t exactly love this place. It was a far cry from the luxurious suite in Monaco, but it was something you were accustomed to as a criminal. Your only hope was that it didn’t inconvenience Johnny too much to be here. You knew how he hated confinement. 

You also knew that it was for the best. There was no way you could promise to keep him safe if he wasn’t here beside one of the most lethal proxies to enter the league. Though you couldn’t help but regret coming into his life and bringing your chaos with you. It was selfish. He may have insisted that he wasn't afraid of your darkness, but Johnny had also never seen your monsters. 

Even you were scared of them. That said more than enough. 

With that thought, you considered the only thing you hadn’t done. The one option you had been actively avoiding. Which was telling Johnny the whole truth. You were painfully aware that if you told him the full extent of what you were, you couldn’t just stop there. You would have to tell him everything.

That thought was terrifying. It might have done you some good to confess away the weight on your chest, but you didn’t want anything to change more than it likely already had. You liked things between you and Johnny the way they were without him knowing what all you’d done, but the truth of the matter was that he already knew. He may not have known the details, but there was no doubt he had imagined it. 

Frankly, whatever he was picturing in his head was probably nothing compared to what you had actually gone through. 

With a sigh, you removed yourself from your post in the living room and made your way over to the bedroom where Johnny was. He looked up when he heard you come in and watched you plop down beside him. “Hi,” you greeted, shyer than you had ever been with him.

Johnny held back a chuckle, wondering what that meant. “Hi, beautiful.”

That word stung to an indescribable level, because you felt so ugly at the moment. For what you had done. For what you had seen. And for what you hadn’t said. “I’m coming clean.”

Johnny raised a brow. “Oh?”

You nodded, stuck in the middle of an extremely unfair game of tug of war with your nerves. “Yeah. You deserve to know the truth. And the truth is that I’ve been hiding myself from you for eight months.”

Johnny didn’t say a word, letting you talk. He recognized that look on your face, the one that meant you had something to get off your chest. 

You took a deep breath and explained, “When we first met in that hotel earlier this year, I was in the middle of a mission. A week after we hooked up, I finished it. It was the last one I ever did, because I got so tangled in you that you made me want to be normal again. So I hung up my cap and tried to live a happy life with you.” 

“But then this happened,” he finished for you in typical Johnny fashion. 

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing down at your hands in your lap and chuckling faintly. “Five years ago, I was a part of a unit assigned to eliminate a major sub in the underground. Subject, I mean. That’s what we call our hits.”

Johnny nodded along in understanding. “I’m guessing that didn’t go too well?”

You swallowed, fumbling with your hands. This was your least favorite part of the story. “We got so close. We were at this ball for his drug front. I still don’t know how it happened and how he found out, but two of us died that night. The other five survived by the skin of our teeth.”

“That dude you said opened a poisoned letter,” Johnny started, mentally connecting the dots. “Was he a member of your team?”

You frowned. “He was. There was another girl too, and she was killed the other morning. There’s only three of us now. We’re all being hunted to the last man.”

The room was silent. It didn’t surprise you that Johnny had gone quiet, probably trying to process everything you were telling him, but it did unnerve you a little. 

You had so much more to say. Now that you had gotten started, a part of you didn’t want to stop. You had been carrying these secrets with you since forever. “After we made it out, we had all agreed to lay low and not draw any attention to ourselves. One of my partners went back home to Canada because that’s where he feels safe. But I don’t feel safe anywhere. That’s why I’m always moving. It’s not because I like traveling. It’s because I’m on the run.”

“That’s like running from your shadow,” Johnny whispered, gently putting an arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t in any way malicious, but that comment made you sweat. 

He was right. The shadow of who you were would follow you perpetually. You couldn’t just wipe the slate clean now that it was stained in blood. It was naive of you to think that the past wouldn’t come back to bite you. This life had chosen you, after all. Not the other way around. 

“You are the one place in this world where I feel safe. Where I feel like I don’t have to hide,” you confessed, glancing up to meet his gaze. “But at the same time, that’s why I’ve been hiding from you. I was scared that if you knew what I really am, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. And I would lose the only reliable thing I have.”

Johnny didn’t say anything about that, gingerly running his hands over you. You already knew that he wasn’t leaving. “What all do you know about this sub you were hunting?”

The better question would have been what you didn’t know. You worked harder than you’d played, and you’d gone through great lengths to uncover the dirty secrets of that syndicate and each of its high-ranking members. The Emperor, their leader. Volcano, the explosionist. Toxic, the poisoner. Bullseye, the sniper. Torch, the arsonist. And Backstabber, the spy. 

You sighed, being forced to confront the part of your life you’d been running from for the past five years. “Frankly, I’ve never seen his face. We just know that he runs one of the most dangerous syndicates in the underground. We got damning info on their ranks, their functions and their operations. It was the most advanced job I ever had.”

“How come?”

“Well, because the core of my job is that I’m more of a killer,” you replied, the words like poison on your own tongue. “When you kill big fish, it’s natural to have to do a lot of digging to establish the best method, but nothing like this. This was months of grueling effort even with a team. And it was my first time with a group.”

You were not used to working on a team and it was more than a little obvious, but the seven of you made it work. Mark could testify to your aloofness. You were good friends now, but you rarely went out of your way to speak to him. It was nothing personal; that was just how you rolled. 

Johnny was taking all of this surprisingly well. He didn’t flinch once when you casually mentioned killing. “Five years is a long wait.”

You shrugged your shoulders. You had held grudges for much longer. And in the underground, people forgot very little. They forgave even less. “When you make an attempt on someone’s life, it’s not,” you told him, a shiver running your own spine. “It’s perfectly calculated revenge. Like I said, our unit buckled down on safety after the mission failed. I’m sure the syndicate wanted to wait until we let our guard down to strike.”

“You said it's a big syndicate,” Johnny reminded, maybe the smallest hint of concern in his voice, as if he was trying not to let it show. “Where do you stand in the line between the powerful and the powerless?”

That was an unexpected question and it made your brows knit together in thought. “Well, I’m not in the game anymore, but I’ve spent a lifetime building up my power and rep. I’ve got influence. I could still have my hand in the business if I wanted, if you know what I mean. And I’m a pretty good damn shot. I’ve never missed.”

Johnny cocked his head. “So you just threw it all away to be with me? And they just let you?” 

“When I last worked, I was a freelance proxy. I didn’t belong to a network and I never will again,” you replied with noticeable disdain. “When you’re as good as me, it gets you power,  but it also gets you a lot of enemies. So obviously there’s a lot of people out there that don’t wanna see me happy. That’s why I lay low.”

Johnny took a good look at you. He knew you were making it sound easier than it was, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. The place he was looking was far deeper. “Why this life? Why not something more normal or less dangerous? Why did you choose to live a life where the only thing you can trust is your gut?”

“I didn’t choose it,” you said, quiet as a mouse. “I didn’t have a chance to be anything different. It was either this, or a slow death. I lived on the streets as a kid and I saw a lot of crazy shit in a short time. I guess it desensitized me. Which made me the perfect candidate for a contract killer.”

“So you were taken in?” Johnny asked. 

“Remember how I said I didn’t wanna be in a network again?”

Johnny nodded his head, seeing where you were going with this, and he frowned at the thought of something happening to you. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“Well, they took me in when I was twelve,” you told him, less than proud. But you told yourself countless times that you’d only done what you had to do to survive. “Primed me for the job. They said I would make them a lot of money someday. And I did.”

Johnny wasn’t too convinced that this was so simple either. “There’s more to the story. Isn’t there?”

You tensed with something far more explosive than anger and potent than sadness, something that made your eyes blur. You fought it with all your strength, whispering, “I went through a lot of shit, Johnny. But I couldn’t leave. Because they told me they were the only family I would ever have. And they weren’t wrong. But the shit they put me through? I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And I have a lot of those.”

Johnny frowned, but he’d expected as much. He doubted there were a large number of people that had a normal upbringing and yet went on to become contract killers, if any at all. He whispered your name softly. “You didn’t deserve whatever you went through.”

Your eyes were burning. “Then why does it feel like I’ve been punished since the second I was born?”

Hearing you say that broke Johnny’s heart. It was clear to him that you had been through hell and back. More than anything, he wanted to relieve you of all your suffering and kill all the demons he knew you’d faced. The demons he knew you weren’t done facing. “I want you to listen to me carefully,” he said softly, taking your hand in his own. “You are not being punished. I know it’s unfair what happened to you, but you did what anyone would have done to make it. You made a hard choice. You made the strong one.”

“I’m tired of being strong,” you murmured. 

“I know. I know you are,” Johnny replied, letting you rest your head on your shoulder. “But that’s exactly what these people want. They want to break you down and give you a reason not to fight. Don’t let them win.”

You were silent for a long minute, strangely comforted by his words. So many times had you thought of giving up, of letting go. The main reason you were still alive was because you were too cocky to let anyone else kill you and too much of a coward to do it on your own. 

Finally, you glanced up into Johnny’s eyes and asked, “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Johnny could see the vulnerability in your expression, a part of you he had never seen before, and it made him even more curious about you than he already was. “Because I don’t think you’re a monster.” 

Those words came with an impact. You didn’t know how to feel. There was something about the way Johnny saw you that was so damn precious and too much of a damn lie. 

“Call me crazy, but I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to scare me away,” he continued, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. 

You swallowed hard. It was hard to believe that you had found someone with such unwavering loyalty to you, without any ulterior motives. You felt bad for doubting him again, but you just couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right. Your insecurities were loud. 

One part of it was that you had always viewed Johnny as the perfect picture of what a normal life should have looked like. What did it mean if he glimpsed into your world and somehow didn’t immediately run the other direction?

Johnny tilted your head up and placed his thumb on your bottom lip, as if he was preparing to lean in for a kiss. You would have let him, but in that very moment, your phone began to ring in your back pocket. 

You startled, pulling away and immediately putting the phone up to your ear. “What’s the move?”

“It’s time,” came Doyoung’s voice from the phone, stern as ever. “You know where to go. Don’t waste any time.”

“Copy that,” you answered, sending a look Johnny’s way to let him know it was time to get going. 

The line went dead and you immediately got to work. Johnny had already started moving, preparing to leave the house and head towards the final destination. “Where are we even going?” he asked in the middle of gathering his things for the second time. 

It was a valid question and Johnny was half expecting a vague answer, so he was surprised when you replied, “Dead Man’s End. It’s an old refuge for assassins, been around since the eighties. It’s kind of like a hitman hotel, if you will.”

Johnny grimaced. “That just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. Are you sure about this?”

You exhaled a deep breath, pausing dead in your tracks. That was a good question for which you didn’t have a proper answer. “No, but it’s our best bet at figuring out what the hell is going on. And besides, the road there is way scarier than the place itself.”

“Whatever that means,” Johnny mumbled. 

His reluctance made you frown. You understood his distaste, but this was entirely out of your hands. Your best bet at survival was by pairing together with the last walking members of your old unit and going over what you knew about this organization. 

As long as you were still breathing, no one was going to hunt you like an animal and get away with it. 

There were a couple hours of travel to make and Johnny was adamant that he would drive, even if he didn’t know the roads. You let him. It wasn’t like you were expecting a coup. When you said the road to the hotel was scarier than the place itself, you’d only meant putting up with all the dread and unease.  

After driving endlessly, you finally pulled in front of a random building in the middle of essentially nowhere. You knew you were at the right place when you noticed how meager the place looked from the exterior. Nothing that would draw unwanted attention. It was the perfect hideout for criminals like yourself with a lot of blood on their hands. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Johnny asked as you both carried your things to the door.

You kept yourself composed. “We’re going to walk in and get a room. Don’t say anything. I’m gonna find my boss.”

Johnny nodded, opening the lobby door and holding it for you as you strolled inside with your suitcase in tow. You thanked him and he followed you straight to the front desk where a woman was sitting there on the phone. She glanced up at you and mouthed, “One moment, please.”

While you waited, you glanced around the lobby, scrutinizing it with the intent to commit the entire layout to memory. There was standard hotel stuff, in spite of this being a getaway for lowlifes. A small lounge area with the television set on some sports channel. An even smaller spot for brewing coffee. There were more things down the hall beside the elevator. 

The lack of other human presence didn’t concern you. Most wouldn’t hang out somewhere as open and vulnerable as the main lobby, and the wise few wouldn’t come out at all. You didn’t look for long. You didn’t need to. It was your job to be able to record a lot of information with little time and effort, and nothing seemed out of place, so far. 

“Alright, sorry about that,” the receptionist said after a few minutes, putting the phone down. She glanced between you and Johnny. “Name and handler?”

You told her your name and gave her Doyoung’s, before gesturing towards Johnny and adding casually, “He’s with me.”

The receptionist glanced up at Johnny and nodded, documenting his name in addition to yours. “I’m going to need you to check in your weapons, please.”

Drawing your weapon from behind you, you signaled towards Johnny again and told her, “He’s not carrying.”

“That’s fine, but I still need you both to check your luggage through that door over there. It’s like the airport, only much simpler.”

The expression on Johnny’s face gave away the fact he clearly found the policy odd, but you both followed instructions and stepped through the security checkpoint one after another, not hearing a single beep. 

But when the receptionist handed over your keycards, instructing you to head to the elevator on the right hand side of the room, Johnny crept close and whispered, “Never heard of criminals checking in their guns.” 

You snickered. “I told you, the road here is scarier than the place itself. With a bunch of murderers in the same room, shit’s bound to get messy if we’re all packing. It’s the only thing that makes this place remotely safe.”

Johnny didn’t seem too convinced about the safety of this refuge. “You don’t need a gun to kill someone.”

“That’s true, but it makes things a lot easier,” you replied, pressing the second floor button. It was perfectly safe; not too close to the bottom floor, yet not too far away from the ground.

Johnny had no argument. 

When you reached the second floor, you both stepped out, scanning the hallway for your room number. The walls were a murky shade of green, the paint chipping off and every decoration (which they barely had) looking as if it was on its last leg. The entire place appeared stale and in violent need of renovation, but something about it was strangely comforting. 

You walked by one door and immediately got a strong whiff of marijuana. “Someone’s getting high as hell,” Johnny quipped. 

“Could be worse,” you murmured. 

The second you were in the room, you locked the door and secured the door chain, making sure no one could creep inside behind you. Then, you swung your luggage onto the bed and dug in your pockets for your phone, sending Doyoung a text to let him know that you had checked in and you were ready to meet. 

“I’m guessing your former boss’ name is Doyoung,” Johnny said, given that was the name you had supplied to the receptionist earlier. “Is he here?”

“No idea,” you replied, brows stitched together. You had been expecting an instant response or phone call. “I thought he would be. I’ll give it twenty minutes before I get suspicious.”

Johnny had noticed a shift in you. You seemed somewhat more comfortable and at ease here than you ever did at the five-star hotels he’d stayed in with you or even the safe house you’d locked yourselves in only some hours before, and he wanted some kind of explanation. He knew you had your reasons for everything, but the idea didn’t make any sense to him whatsoever. 

But he didn’t ask. Instead, he settled on the bed and flirted, “You know what I could do to you in twenty minutes?”

“Absolutely nothing,” you chirped, playing along. “Our foreplay lasts way longer than that.”

Johnny chortled, knowing it was true. A solid half of your foreplay didn’t even involve physical touch. Sometimes he got worked up simply from talking to you and listening to you speak your mind. “We can skip the talking,” he said, loosely grabbing your waist. “That’s my favorite part though.”

“Mine, too,” you agreed. “But frankly, I don’t trust these beds.”

Johnny laughed. Everything about this building made it seem like it hadn’t been touched in decades. “Well, let’s hope we’re not here for long.”

You wouldn’t be. Either you would come to danger, or danger would flock to you in large quantities. No matter what happened, your only hope was that you would be prepared. There was no hiding. 

At first, ten minutes passed. Weird, but no big deal. Then an entire twenty went by and you were still snuggling up on Johnny, having not heard a single chime or ping. That was extremely out of the ordinary and you internally began to fret. 

Retreating from Johnny’s arms ever so begrudgingly, you gave him a fleeting kiss on the lips and said, “I’m gonna go check things out. It’s really weird that he hasn’t called or texted me yet.”

There was a hint of reluctance in Johnny’s eyes, as if he didn’t want to let you go, but there was nothing he could do to keep you still. You were restless. “Be safe,” he told you, appreciating how the faint feeling of your kiss was lingering on his lips. 

“You be safe too,” you replied with worry. It wasn’t like you wanted to leave Johnny alone, but you trusted that he could hold his own. “Keep the door locked at all times. The bolt and the chain.”

Johnny waved you off. “I know, I know. I’m not a kid, baby.”

“I just want to make sure you’re careful. I love you.” The words had already escaped your lips before you realized exactly what you were saying, but you couldn’t take it back. You blinked in surprise. 

Johnny’s eyes widened vaguely, having not expected you to blurt out a confession of your love for him, but he was pleasantly surprised. “I know you do. I love you too.”

You nodded silently, feeling awkward. With one final glance and a pat on his shoulder, you waved goodbye and turned away. 

There was something you had to get to the bottom of. 

You stepped into the hallway. Doyoung was the type of human being you didn’t call unless it was an absolute emergency, as were you, so you had tried to keep your conversations strictly written only, but something about this situation was starting to give you unpleasant vibes. Calling you hours ago to order you here, but not being around himself, didn’t make any sense. 

Not to mention Mark, who you hadn’t heard from since that less than ten-minute phone call you’d had when you landed. You wondered if he had even arrived in the States safely. The most important thing right now was figuring out if he and Doyoung were even still alive.

The thought struck fear into your very soul, but you tried not to let it consume you. There was a reason the lot of you had been assigned together to the same team, and that was because you had the means and the willpower to survive. You wouldn’t be taken down easily and neither would they. They were strong. 

You felt borderline naked without your gun as you sauntered very quietly down the hallway of the second floor, but the knowledge that no one else had their weapons on them either provided you some easy reassurance. Plus you had something that not everyone else did. Your tenacity was your secret weapon. 

With no other viable option, you gave in and dialed Doyoung’s number on the burner phone, hoping he would pick up after a few rings. The call immediately went to voicemail. You furrowed your brows and tried again, but he ultimately still didn’t answer. 

Which made you moderately anxious. 

Maybe he had to get another phone, you told yourself, which still didn’t make enough sense. Doyoung had a remarkable memory. Wouldn’t he still try to contact you?

This was officially beyond weird. This was venturing into the territory of all things dark and dangerous. You promptly dialed Mark’s number instead, hopeful to get a hold of him, but to no avail. Rather than go straight to voicemail like Doyoung’s phone, it went on and on. 

Fuck, he switched phones, you remembered, thrusting yourself back into that phone call you’d had the other day. He had said something about how he was about to toss his phone and how you had good timing. Wherever it was, it wasn’t off or dead, but still of no use to either of you now.

That was the catch. You were meant to be elusive and completely untraceable, but it came to a disadvantage when even the people you needed most couldn’t reach you. 

Having no idea what else to do, you turned around and headed back for your room to regroup, knowing you needed to mull over your next steps and the middle of a hallway was no place to do something like that. On the way, you paid close attention to the windows and any potential blind spots. 

Upon unlocking the door, you were surprised it opened immediately without any need for asking Johnny to unhook the chain. Fuck’s sake, didn’t you tell him to lock it behind you?

“Johnny,” you called out in annoyance, shutting and bolting the door behind yourself as you walked inside. You had been expecting to find him pacing around somewhere or gazing out the window, but you didn’t see his tall body anywhere in the tiny room. 

You narrowed your eyes and checked the bathroom, but it was entirely clear too. Johnny wasn’t here. Matter of fact, the only thing that indicated he was ever even here was his bag on the single bed.

Something like panic filled your chest and made your stomach tighten. Your brain immediately went to the worst case scenario. Did someone get to him in the five seconds you had turned your back? How in the hell did he sneak out of the hallway without you noticing?

You shook your head, willing yourself to calm down. Maybe he just went downstairs to get coffee or something. You knew he needed coffee like an addict needed crack. He would drink it at any given hour. 

Solely to be safe, you quickly called his burner number, having saved it in case of situations like this. You were disappointed when it rang and rang with no answer, wondering what in the hell was happening. It had to be on his person. You would have heard it otherwise.

You groaned and stepped back into the green corridor, confused as all hell. Your very first thought was the elevator. The only reasonable idea you could conceivably imagine in the midst of all this bewilderment was to return to the main floor and see if the receptionist could clue you in on any significant information. 

It felt like you had been standing in front of the elevator for ages before it finally drew back its doors with a chime and allowed you to enter. You pressed the lobby button and waited patiently for it to descend down to the main floor.

The trip took a long minute. Though it was only two floors down, the elevator didn’t seem to be in the same rush you were in, which was more than a little frustrating. Every second you went without answers was another second you couldn’t bring yourself to relax. 

You breathed in a short-lived relief as the doors opened again and you walked onto the main floor, straight for the lobby. The sight in front of you only made you blink. 

The receptionist was very dead, slumped forward onto the front desk. You could see the wound that had done her in, one shot to the back of her neck. The exact same way Doyoung said Margo had been killed. The exact same pattern you had studied in that unit so many years back. 

You shuddered. They were here. Your initial instinct was to charge into the inventory behind the front desk where the receptionist had checked in all of the weapons, but the shock on your face when you realized the entire inventory had been cleared out was priceless. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” you said aloud in total disbelief. Not only did that mean that you were unarmed, but at least one person here had access to several different weapons.

And you had no idea where Johnny was, or literally anybody else for that matter. 

Paranoid as ever, you frantically called Johnny’s number again, mumbling under your breath for him to pick up the damn phone. Your blood was pumping belligerently in your veins and you were seconds away from losing your ability to think altogether. 

A noise echoed from behind you, making you snap around. You heard a ringing sound from the lounge area of the lobby, but no one was there. You did notice, however, the familiar phone on one of the coffee tables. 

Johnny’s phone was here. Which meant that at some point, he had been here as well. And he possibly knew what had happened with the receptionist. 

Your brain was starting to hurt, spiraling with all the different possibilities of what had happened and what was to come. There was only one thing you knew for certain, and that was that your trust in Johnny was steadily beginning to wane. There was no longer a strong faith in his seemingly normal, picture perfect life. With every second that passed without knowing where he was, it dwindled more and more. 

An idea popped into your head and you stepped around the desk, skillfully maneuvering around the dead body to briefly scan today’s log for any relevant information. You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it sooner. If any of your colleagues had checked in, their names would be on the paper.

You grinned triumphantly when you saw two familiar names, Mark and Doyoung. They had both checked in this morning, hours apart, with Doyoung logically getting here first and Mark some time afterwards. So they were here. The only thing that didn’t make sense was why you hadn’t heard a peep from either of them since your last exchanges over the phone. 

At the very least, you knew you had to keep moving. You were a walking target the longer you stayed in place. There had to be a way to figure out where they were without risking your life in the process. It may have felt like it, but you weren’t the only one in the building.

Making a beeline for the elevator, you tried to create some semblance of a plan. Given the other one was out of order, it was the only functioning elevator connecting the four total floors, which made it a dangerous spot for anyone trying to travel. And seemingly so far, no one else had been brave enough. 

That, or they took the stairs. Either way, you had to be cautious. You saw the way the receptionist had been killed - quick, efficient, and more importantly, quiet. Gone within a blink. There were people here who wanted you dead, likely staking out every available exit, and you had to be both stronger and smarter than them if you wanted a shot at survival. 

The very second you were back in the room, you chained the door shut behind yourself. It felt like you were walking in circles. Your body was hyper aware of the danger it was involved in, burning with the urge to pace around, but you didn’t want to make excessive noise or draw any unwanted attention to yourself with movement. 

You did, however, approach the closet in search of something that could be used as a makeshift weapon, knowing that you inevitably would have to go back out. You stilled when one of the floorboards creaked beneath your weight. At first, it was out of fear of making too much noise. Then, you realized there was something unusual about the panel. 

It was loose, as if it had been removed and then placed back improperly. With your experience in the industry, you knew it was very common for proxies to leave tools in place for their allies to use. You weren’t at all surprised to find something like this in the hotel. 

Getting down on your knees, you scanned the room for something to facilitate pulling up the panel, grabbing the closest object of assistance and digging up whatever the hell was clearly underneath the wooden plank.

It was a gun. 

You beamed, victorious. Upon checking the chamber, you found it was fully loaded. Meaning you had all the ammunition in the world in comparison to most people here, assuming those stolen guns in the inventory had fallen into the hands of one person and not many. 

Well, that changed things. For one, you no longer had to confine yourself to this room for half of eternity. You would obviously still need to be extremely cautious, but now you had a means of defending yourself. And for two, it would be easier to find your former teammates, and get rid of anyone who stood in your way. 

With a sigh, you nodded to yourself, standing up. You tried to think of a tentative plan. For starters, you had to find Doyoung. He would have answers, he always did. And where in the hell had Johnny run off to? 

Back in the hallway, it didn’t take long for you to get your answer. 

Johnny was by the elevator, stained in blood.

You rooted in place as if you had crossed paths with a wild bear. For a second, you couldn’t even feel yourself breathe. Your heart all but stopped. And when Johnny finally turned and saw you, standing there in total shock, the emotion on his face was completely unreadable. 

There was a dry lump in your throat that you tried to dampen by swallowing. Who’s fucking blood was that? 

Then, it hit you. 

“Did you kill the receptionist?” you asked, blurting out the question the moment it entered your mind. 

Johnny had the audacity to blink in surprise, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. Which you didn’t believe for a second. “No, of course not.”

“I don’t believe you,” you snapped. “You disappeared when I told you to stay inside. I called your phone. You weren’t in the lobby, but it was. Don’t expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this.”

In an attempt to be consoling, Johnny reached out to hold you like he had always done when he tried to reassure you calmly, gingerly calling out your name before responding, “Baby, I know what it looks like, but…”

You instinctively whipped out the gun you had found, pointing it at him in a heartbeat as you stepped away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you warned, threatening. Your true colors were showing. The side of you that you never let him see. “I swear to God, I will shoot you.”

Johnny backed up, putting his hands up in innocence, as if he had nothing wrong. He looked surprised, likely not expecting you to be armed, whereas it didn’t seem like he was packing. Right now. “It looks like my cat’s out of the bag. I might as well come clean.”

Your heart was trembling, but your mind was trying to cling onto some leftover strength. She wasn’t a quitter. “You knew. You knew ever since we got that laced letter.”

“There was no laced letter,” Johnny replied, indifferent. 

Your eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m the one that sent it to us.”

You didn’t think it was possible for you to go any more still than you already had, but now you were as rigid as a corpse, standing there in a kind of disbelief stronger than the agony of a bullet tearing through flesh. “Who are you?” you asked stiffly. 

Johnny smirked, as if he was proud of himself for having deceived you all this time. “Take a wild guess.”

“You’re his gun,” you said, hands trembling as you grasped the weapon in your hands. All this time, your kryptonite had been hiding in plain sight. You had shown affection to the enemy, held him, made love to him. Slept beside him at night with all the trust your wounded self could muster.  

“I consider myself his poison,” Johnny retorted. 

You gawked. The gears were turning in your head, the gears that should have turned a long time ago, but you were too love blind to see it. “Your function,” you gasped. “You’re the poisoner. You’re Toxic.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure me out. They said you were the best of the best, you know. I guess that was before I got to you,” Johnny replied, grinning from ear to ear. He sighed, content. Then, he patted himself on the back, and quipped, “Good going, Johnny.”

“Is this a fucking joke to you?” you asked viciously, clearly having none of it.

“Maybe just a little bit, yeah,” Johnny admitted, chuckling faintly. “I mean, you have to admit I got you good. Rich American guy who loves traveling but never talks in detail about his job. I mean, I thought it would be too convenient, but you never asked any questions.”

Because I didn’t want you asking any questions about mine, you thought, but the words wouldn’t come. You were too stunned to speak. He had you completely fooled.

“You’re a bastard,” you sneered. 

Rather than be offended, Johnny laughed in amusement. “How are we any different? You had your secrets too.”

“I told you what I was when shit hit the fan,” you replied, although you knew it would be impossible to justify your half of it. You were just so sick of who you used to be and you didn’t want to risk losing what you had now. 

“Yeah, after shit hit the fan,” Johnny said, making a valid point. “Do you know how easy it would have been for me to take your life? God knows I’ve had ample opportunity. And yet you’re still here. Do you wanna know why?”

“Because you want to savor this to the last breath,” you replied, guarded. 

“Because I’m in love with you. Tragically. Fatally. Dangerously.”

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to believe him, to crawl into his bloody arms and let him hold you as if you meant something to him. But now you knew what he was. He was exactly like you, if not worse. And you were no stranger to telling a fib if the job required it. 

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” you argued, willing yourself to be strong. “Where’s Doyoung?”

Johnny wanted to touch you. Where words had failed, he knew his body could win you over, but something told him it wasn’t the best call to make right now. He sobered. “I have no idea, but you need to stay away from him. He’s not what you think he is.”

Your skepticism only heightened. “What do you know about him?”

Johnny was holding back, his hands still above his head. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you. “He’s dangerous. This whole trip is a scheme to kill you and your friends. He wanted to pry you out of hiding.”

“But you went along with it without saying a thing,” you reminded, doubtful. “How is that any better?”

Johnny sighed. “I had to. It’s the only way.”

“The only way to do what?”

“To get rid of him.”

“Get rid of him for what?”

“He’s the Emperor, baby.”

You shook your head in denial. For one, that didn’t make any sense. Doyoung was the same person you had spent years of your life hunting? Impossible. You saw the grief on his face that night your other teammates had been killed like lambs to the slaughter. 

The idea that he was another evil, however, did explain his absence now that you were finally in the kill zone. You still weren’t entirely adamant on trusting Johnny though. Fuck’s sake, he was covered in blood right now. And you didn’t want to know why. 

“You’re lying,” you sneered, pressing the button to summon the elevator. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand next to him. It was too goddamn overwhelming. 

“I can see why you think that,” Johnny replied softly, having suddenly turned serious. Like he was trying to prove his innocence somehow, even if he was stained in the evidence of what he truly was. “But I promise I’m not.”

You scoffed. If only life was so simple, where promises were inherently something of substance. “Your word means nothing to me right now. You’re a killer,” you said, tightening your grip on the firearm in your hand. 

“I’ve been a killer long before we met. So have you,” Johnny reminded, his voice becoming slightly sharper. “And you know what? I’ve never lied to you. I’ve just kept you away from the whole truth.”

You raised your voice, asking, “How do I know that?”

That tone was something Johnny had never heard from you before, and in a way nothing else ever had, it startled him; it showed him how close he was to losing you. “Don’t you trust me?”

You didn’t even grant that a response. You felt completely and utterly betrayed, even if a part of you didn’t think you had any right to be. It felt like a direct affront to your character that he even asked you something like that. You had trusted him, and look what that had gotten you. Where it had gotten you.

“I’m going to leave this floor,” you replied, gesturing towards the elevator. “And you’re going to make yourself useful, or die trying.”

Johnny looked at you, more so the gun in your hands, eyes flickering in surprise. “You’re leaving? What? No. You can’t do that.”

“Watch me,” you whispered, stepping backwards into the elevator. The whole time, your eyes were trained on Johnny and so was your weapon, making it abundantly clear that you were armed, capable, and very, very dangerous. 

Death didn’t discriminate, after all. Why should you? 

Not daring to move as much as an inch, Johnny watched the elevator door close, stealing you away from him and carrying you to God knows where. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, heart thudding violently. 

Once in the elevator, you relaxed, but even that was short-lived. You jolted when your phone began to ring and you were shocked when you read the number, recognizing it immediately. You put the phone to your ear and answered, “Jesus, Doyoung. Where the hell are you?”

In typical Doyoung fashion, he didn’t waste any time on explanations, whispering, “Listen to me. Johnny’s lost it. I watched him shoot the receptionist with my own eyes.”

Your brows furrowed. You had mentioned Johnny to Doyoung before, but only vaguely. Not once did you ever reveal his identity. “How do you know his name?”

“How do you think?” Doyoung asked, suggesting it was obvious. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I had to make sure you were safe, that you weren’t falling into the same trap as the others.”

“And what did you conclude?”

With seemingly no intention to be very forward for once in his life, Doyoung continued, “I was suspicious. His record was squeaky clean, too clean, so I kept digging. I didn’t find a damn thing, but I knew I was right to be suspicious when I saw him shoot the receptionist with no mercy.”

You shook your head, thinking it over. Missing inventory aside, whoever killed the receptionist had to have access to a gun, but they had all been checked in upon entrance. And you knew Johnny wasn’t carrying one, because the machine would have dinged if he was. 

Though that didn’t mean there weren’t any other weapons in the building whatsoever. You were sure there was some way to sneak them inside and plant them for others to get a hold of. Hell, that was the only reason you had one now. 

To say nothing of the fact that he was literally stained in blood. That was the entire reason you had suspected him in the first place. The only problem was that now that you thought about it, he couldn’t have been armed. You saw the look on his face when you left and it couldn’t just have been because he didn’t want you to go. 

It was because you had something valuable. 

Another conflicting part of the story was that Doyoung talked about Johnny as if they had never met before, but Johnny himself had told you he was the Emperor. Which, if true, meant Doyoung was his boss. So, one of them was lying. 

Stepping out of the elevator onto the bottom floor, you stealthily paced the corridors with the gun in your clasp and the phone to your ear, whispering, “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“I meant to, I really did, but after I checked in, all this crazy stuff started happening, and…,” Doyoung trailed off, confusing you. Until he added, “You have a gun?”

That voice didn’t only come from your phone; it came from behind. You whipped around in a blink, noticing Doyoung standing a few feet away, eyes widened in surprise. 

You hung up. You hadn’t seen Doyoung in person in years. He hardly looked any different. He still had deep, dark hair and that stern, chiseled face. And he still had this commanding aura to him that had made him so efficient as your leader. 

But you weren’t so confident about him anymore. Not after the interaction you’d just had. Johnny had planted doubts in your mind, even if you didn’t trust him either. You figured it was in your best interest to assume everyone was dangerous and a threat until proven otherwise. 

“I found it in one of the rooms,” you replied casually, but you stiffened as he stepped closer to you. “Why?”

Doyoung looked more alarmed than you had seen him since that godawful night so long ago. He whispered, “You need to give it to me. I think Johnny’s the Emperor.”

“What?”

“Why else would he kill the receptionist?” Doyoung asked, frantic. “I know you like him, maybe you love him, but this is important. We have to kill him before he kills us.”

You heard heavy footsteps coming from the staircase at the end of the hallway and drew your gun in preparation, but you were surprised to see that it was Johnny. And he looked equally as stunned to see you standing there next to Doyoung.

“Stay away from her, Johnny,” Doyoung spoke up, getting the first word in. He stood in front of you, as if he was defending you. 

“Whatever he’s been telling you, he’s lying,” Johnny told you hurriedly, panting for breath. “You can’t trust him. I told you, he’s the Emperor.”

Doyoung looked offended. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the Emperor. You planned all of this to isolate us and get us alone, didn’t you?”

Johnny raised his voice, insisting, “Don’t listen to him, he’s lying. I told you who I am. Think about it, baby. Why would he bring you here and make it easier for you to die?”

Doyoung matched his energy and snapped, “I brought us here so we can decide collectively on a course of action. We’re stronger together than we are alone.”

Ignoring him, Johnny focused on you entirely and reasoned, “You’re more vulnerable together and you know it. You said it yourself that you’re being hunted down to the last man. Why go out of the way to assassinate you when he could just lead you into a death trap?”

“That’s not true,” Doyoung hissed. 

Johnny called out your name, shifting around Doyoung to make eye contact with you. He could see how your trembling hands clasped the weapon like it was your only lifeline. “Please. I’d never hurt you, you have to trust me on that. Give me the gun.”

Rolling his eyes, Doyoung said, “Come on. You’ve known me for years. Give me the gun and we can walk out of here and go home.” 

Something inside you burned furiously. You didn’t have a home. You’d considered home to be wherever Johnny was, but even that had fallen through. And you knew that if you walked out of here without him, you would have nothing left except the shadow of what you used to be. You had nothing left to lose. 

When you told Johnny that you were on the run, he had said, That’s like running from your shadow. And now more than ever, you realized he was right. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself anymore. You needed to end the fight once and for all so that you could finally know peace instead of transience. 

“Enough!” you screamed, pointing the gun back and forth between both men. They startled, your raising voice making them still. “You can both go to hell.”

With that, you took off, sprinting up the stairs and hoping to lose them before they could even attempt to catch up with you. That was one of the many, many pitfalls of being a woman in a male-dominated world. You had to compensate somehow, and what you lacked in strength, you made up for in speed and wit. 

You just hoped it would be enough to save you. 

There were footsteps behind you. You couldn’t see them when you turned, but you never stopped moving. The only thing you knew was that you had to think of a way to get out of here, but going outside was far too risky. You didn’t know what was waiting for you out there nor were you even remotely curious. 

You cut down to the other staircase on the right hand side of the hallway, hoping to outsmart them. There were only a handful of floors, but there had to be some way to buy yourself more time to think. They wouldn’t expect you to go back down, would they?

When you made it safely to the bottom floor, you checked both ways like a child crossing the street before circling back to the main lobby. It was strangely empty. You wondered if anyone was here other than the three of you. Mark crossed your mind and a palpable fear began pumping through your veins. 

He had signed in. You knew that much. Walking down the corridor you had clocked upon entrance, you made a beeline for the bar, knowing no one would expect to find you there of all locations. But to be safe, you locked the door and released a shaky sigh. 

Your head was spinning. Your mind was scattered. Someone had emptied out the inventory, but neither Johnny nor Doyoung clearly had weapons of any kind. So who in the hell stole all the guns?

A sudden sound jolted you out of your mental headache. Your first thought was the door you’d locked, but no one was there. Then, you heard it again. It was a thud, coming from behind the door, as if there was something behind it that couldn’t get free. Like a trapped bird throwing itself against its cage. 

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you approached the storage room, wielding your weapon. You heard the thud again; it sounded like a kick, followed by muffled noises. There was someone back there. You felt a sudden chill sweep over your shoulders. 

Taking a deep breath, you counted to three under your breath before you yanked at the knob, throwing the door open. 

Mark fell over, having been leaning on the door, and dropped to his side.

“Mark,” you gasped, recognizing him in a heartbeat. He was familiar to you, even in this disheveled state. 

He said something, eyes wide as he glanced at you, but you couldn’t make it out. There was tape over his mouth. 

You sat him up, crouching down onto your knees. After you had gotten him upright, you looked into his eyes and warned, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry.”

With no further warning, you ripped the tape straight off in one clean jerk. 

Mark recoiled in pain. “Goddamn!”

You winced, as if you were the one hurting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mark replied, exhaling a breath of relief. He looked like he was simply happy that you had found him and he didn’t die in that storage room, which you understood. You could finally relax knowing he was physically okay. 

As you cautiously undid the tape binding his arms and legs, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, you asked, “Who the hell did this to you?”

Mark shrugged. He looked like he had been through hell and back without taking absolutely any detours. His skin was damp with sweat you could feel through his clothes. There was a faint patch of blood on his skin and you assumed he’d been attacked. “I don’t know.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“They came up from behind me while I was walking in the hallway,” Mark explained, stretching his limbs now that they were free. “I never saw their face. And when I came to, I was tied up in the closet.”

That only confused you even more. Obviously, there was something they didn’t want Mark to interfere with, but a bullet to the head seemed like a much more practical solution than tying him up and hiding his body. “Well, they didn’t kill you,” you pointed out. 

Mark nodded, sighing. “Yeah, but why?”

You sighed too. Like hell you knew. You had been expecting more bodies, more casualties. There no was no doubt you were grateful Mark wasn’t dead, but it still threw you off. “You were right.”

“Of course, I was,” Mark chirped, even though he had know idea what you were going on about. “So, what was I right about?”

“Johnny,” you told him quietly, almost like you were ashamed. Maybe you were. “He’s not what I thought he was. He’s one of us. And I was his sub.”

Mark gawked. A part of him had seen it like that coming, but it wasn’t like he had happily anticipated it. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

You tangled your hand through your hair, because now you were thinking about it and it was breaking your heart all over again. You had fallen six feet under for his deceit. The man you loved and thought you knew was just another proxy that had been contracted to take you out. Only this time, he had actually gotten close. 

“It gets worse,” you replied, forcing yourself to remember everything that had gone down in the past hour. “He claims to be Toxic. And he says that Doyoung is the Emperor.”

The first part seemed to surprise Mark more than the second and his brows knitted. “Wait, they sent Toxic after you instead of Backstabber? Why? I thought his function was just to poison people and leave. You guys have been together for months.”

“Why would he lie?”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe he’s the Emperor.”

You could literally feel your bones chilling. That was what Doyoung had said, and now Mark seemed to believe it too. You didn’t know what to think. “Johnny says Doyoung is the Emperor, but Doyoung says it’s Johnny. I don’t know who to trust.”

Marked mulled it over. There was a lot of catching up to do, all things considered. He shook his head, frowning. “What is your gut telling you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. You couldn’t even trust your instincts anymore, even after relying on them your whole life. Johnny had told you to trust your gut and kick everything else to the curb. But how could you when you didn’t know what it was trying to say?

You had learned to bridle it, but it never completely stopped. It became a whisper instead of a scream. And now there was a dull echo. 

“Come on,” Mark encouraged, grasping your shoulders. “Think. Forget everything you feel right now just for a second and think. You were in a unit with Doyoung for a year and you’ve spent the past however many months practically glued to Johnny’s hip. What did they say? How did they say it?”

You blinked. “Mark, I can’t.”

Mark shook his head. “Yes, you can. I know you want to move on from this life, but you never will if we can’t make it out of there. We need the clever assassin. Let her come out one last time and then kill her.”

You sucked in a breath, willing yourself to get back in shape. The clever assassin. The lethal proxy. The woman you thought was dead and buried. Now more than ever, you needed her back. One last time. “Someone shot the front desk lady. Uh, close range like Margo. Johnny was covered in blood. I thought it was him at first. Doyoung said he saw him shoot her with no mercy.”

“You said at first,” Mark pointed out. “Do you not think so anymore?”

You were reluctant for a minute, but you finally said, “They don’t have guns. They were both trying to convince me to give them mine, but I told them to fuck off.”

Mark was surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Someone took all of the guns from the inventory, but I don’t know where they are, and they both looked desperate for a weapon. Which means someone else is here too. But Johnny couldn’t have shot the receptionist if he didn’t have the means.”

“So, Doyoung lied,” Mark concluded. 

You shrugged. It seemed like the whole room was reeling at this point. “I guess so.”

Mark mumbled something under his breath, likely in shock as he processed the new information. “Then, the only question left is what are they so scared of?”

“Or who,” you replied quietly. 

Mark stood up. The solution seemed obvious to him. “We gotta go.”

Your eyes followed him. “And do what? We need a plan if we’re going to go out in the open.”

Mark shook his head. “Are you serious? Doyoung is guilty as all hell. And that means he probably killed my sister. You have a gun. Let’s go put a bullet in his head and get the hell out of this dump.”

“Wait, Mark,” you replied, standing up and grabbing his arm. “Let’s just think about this for a little longer.”

“What’s left to think about?” Mark asked grimly. 

“Let’s say Johnny is telling the truth. He’s Toxic and Doyoung is the Emperor,” you started, lowering your reach to his hands. “That means they’re trying to kill each other even though they work together. Why?”

Mark shrugged his shoulders again. “No idea. What did Johnny tell you?”

You thought about that interaction you’d had with Johnny on the second floor, where he’d confessed to being complicit in the nightmare you were currently living. “He said that this trip was the only way to kill Doyoung, but I don’t get why he would want to kill his boss.”

“I do,” Mark replied. “Think about it. You’re Johnny’s sub. The cold case excluded, when has it ever taken you months to kill someone?”

Your lips were in a line. You didn’t want to entertain the idea that Johnny genuinely cared about you, because you didn’t want to be wrong. But he said it himself he had ample opportunity to leave you for dead. He never did. 

“Never.”

“Exactly,” Mark said. “He’s obviously stalling. If Doyoung is his direct boss and he’s been assigned to help pick us all off for being in that unit, he’s not gonna wanna go through with killing you, especially if he really loves you.”

You chewed that over. There was something about your affection for Johnny that triggered your fight or flight instincts in a way you’d never experienced before. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it was suffocating. 

“It’s your call,” Mark told you, patting you on the shoulder. “We can always kill them both if that makes you happier.”

You laughed for the first time in a long time, but you knew that wasn’t what you wanted. You were just so scared. Fear was one of the most natural human emotions and yet you were so ashamed to be afraid. It made you feel out of control. “No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I think I know what I need to do.”

“Then, let’s go,” Mark said, waving you forward with his hand.

With one final breath, you nodded and silently followed Mark out of the bar through the double doors. You hoped you were making the right decision. This was beyond life or death. You weren’t afraid to die. You were afraid of dying alone. 

When in the hallway, there was a light in one of the rooms on the right side. You and Mark exchanged glances, noticing that the door was ajar. It looked like a laundry room, likely connecting to a sauna or pool. There were a bunch of white towels stacked on top of each other from what you could see.

“You go ahead. I’m gonna check this out,” Mark told you, distracted.

You narrowed your eyes. Did he seriously think you were going to leave him alone? He’d just barely survived being thrown into a closet to rot like an animal. “Mark, no. You don’t have a weapon. Come on, it’s just a closet.”

As if he didn’t hear a word you said, Mark walked off. “Five minutes.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but there was no opportunity to argue, because he had already disappeared. 

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled under your breath, disgruntled. That boy had a death wish. You were practically certain of it now. What had he seen that made him want to investigate instead of minding his own business? A ghost?

The more you walked into the lobby, the less confident you were beginning to feel. You couldn’t afford to be wrong. Even if you weren’t afraid of death, there were more lives at stake than just your own. You had Mark to take care of, even if he was perfectly capable of defending himself, and you had honor. 

It was everything in your world. You may not have been on a team anymore, but if there was anything the league did teach you other than how to be a lethal, unstoppable bullet no one would ever see coming, it was that you didn’t leave your family to die. And it was a principle you still followed despite your reproach for the network. 

With how you had grown up, taken under the wing of a hawk to become an even deadlier hawk, you knew there was no one you could really trust. Hardly even yourself. 

But you also knew that living life with no one really, truly by your side was lonely. 

You didn’t even need to look for Johnny. He was creeping down the hallway with quick, soundless steps, totally not looking suspicious. When his eyes locked on you, he went rigidly still. 

“Johnny,” you called out faintly. 

Johnny put his index finger up to his lip, shushing you, and approached you ever so slightly. With the gun in your grip and your evident distrust of him, he wasn’t taking any chances. His voice was light as a feather as he said your name. “I know I had you under the impression that I was some oasis away from this world and I apologize. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever.”

The sudden apology had you taken aback, even though you tried to stay on guard. It was hard when you were around Johnny. Your body was so used to being at ease when you were with him, not registering him as a threat. “You never hurt me.”

“I never hurt you,” Johnny repeated, knowing what you’d meant by that. He had never physically caused you any pain - not more than you’d bargained for, at least. “And I hope you can believe me when I say that I never plan to. If nothing else is, my feelings for you are real. The thought of hurting you alone makes me angry.”

You silently took his words in. They sounded so genuine, so affectionate. You were good at recognizing lies when you heard them, but it was clear by now that you were a little weak in that regard when you were blinded by emotion. Your judgment was clouded. 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder and continued, “That’s why I have to do this. That’s why I have to kill Doyoung. He knows that I won’t go through with the order and he won’t rest until one of us is dead.”

“That’s why you want the gun,” you replied, realizing Mark had been right. Johnny cared about you too much to let you die. 

Johnny looked over his shoulder again, like he was being watched. Or followed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was trying to stay clear of his boss. “Give me the gun and I can end this. We can meet my mom. We can go any place in the goddamn world. We can settle down if that’s what you want.”

Footsteps echoed in the halls. They weren’t coming from behind you, so you knew it wasn’t Mark. It was someone else. 

“Please,” Johnny replied, surprising you. You’d never heard him beg for a damn thing in the entire time you’d known him. 

You swallowed, weighing your options. There weren’t many. Either you gave him the gun or you kept it for yourself. You just couldn’t understand why he was so adamant on having it, if not to turn it on you at some point. “Why do you need the gun? Why can’t I do it?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

Your heart thumped with an intense, deep tremor. Those words were weirdly sentimental to you in a way that was inexplicable. He was willing to take the blame so that you wouldn’t have a mark on your back. You believed him. If Doyoung was the Emperor, that made him one of the most influential figures in the underground. His death would send shock waves through the league and likely even through the public. 

The syndicate would have its revenge. No one would take out its Emperor and not be penalized accordingly for it, but you thought about it some more. Not only would the lack of power weaken them, but there was a way to take advantage of the situation at hand. 

So you gave Johnny the gun, holding your breath. He accepted it. 

The footsteps drew closer, louder. Johnny pulled you behind him and whipped around. 

It all happened in a blink. 

A gunshot echoed out. Your ears rang from the loud noise and you shuddered, only vaguely remembering the last time you had heard something so deadly. You thought you would be numb. It used to feel like nothing. Right now, however, staring down at where the bullet had pierced Doyoung squarely between the eyes, the feeling in your chest teetered toward relief. 

“Damn,” Johnny replied, handing you back the gun. “I’m still a damn good shot. What can’t I do?”

It took you a second, but you managed a laugh. The sight was surreal, but something told you that you’d made the right choice. 

Johnny rubbed his temple. He was clearly relieved too. “Alright, trivia time. You were in a unit for a year tasked with knowing everything about us. What do you know about me?”

“Uh, you’ve been dealing with poison for at least a decade. You’re the best poison specialist in the league and you learned in America, but you do dirty business with chemists all over the globe so that there’s less of a trail, which has made you a super pain in the ass,” you replied, reciting everything you knew from memory. 

The longer you thought about it, the more sense it made. Johnny had been hiding in plain sight this entire time and you’d had no idea. The thought made you somewhat uneasy, but you also had to admit that you were impressed.

“You’re forgetting the part where I’m his right hand.”

You gawked. “You’re what?”

Johnny chuckled, glancing at Doyoung’s lifeless corpse with no remorse. “Well, I was two minutes ago, that is. I’m the Emperor now.” 

Now that was a surprise. You knew their functions, but you had never understood the exact hierarchy system in the syndicate. “Johnny, what the...”

Johnny looked more than enthusiastic to explain, but his gaze quickly became distracted. By the time you caught the flicker of motion that had stolen his attention, it was too late. 

You tensed when you heard another gunshot rang out in the hallway. You and Johnny instinctively both clung to each other, shuddering with the same fear. 

Sol slumped to the ground as quickly as he’d moved.

Mark stepped forward, panting. He pushed his hair out of his face, lowering the weapon he’d somehow gotten ahold of. “Found the guns,” he announced, scratching his head.

You sighed in relief, but your eyes were wide with confusion. Sol must have stolen them, not that that made any sense whatsoever. “I thought he was dead?”

“That’s what Doyoung told me,” Mark said, glancing between the two very dead, bleeding bodies on the floor. “Damn, that’s a clean shot.”

“Thank you,” Johnny chirped, simpering.

You shook your head, emptying the chamber of the gun you were holding and handing it over to Johnny. “Get this damn thing away from me.”

The grin on Johnny’s face turned upside down when he heard your tone. “Hey, it’s done. It’s over.”

Mark smiled, watching you both from afar. There was a bittersweet feeling in his heart at the thought of what he’d lost and the sight of what you’d gained. “It’s over,” he echoed. 

You nodded, holding onto Johnny like you would die without him. Though you still couldn’t help but notice he was still covered in blood. “So why are you wearing blood if you didn’t kill the lady at the front desk?”

“I got into a little fight with that guy. I had no idea you knew him,” Johnny replied, lifting his shirt and revealing a bloody gash. 

You gawked. “You got stabbed?”

Johnny laughed. “You didn’t notice, right?”

“You have a pain tolerance even a masochist would bitch about,” you said, shaking your head. “I should have known. You have all those tattoos.”

“Never trust a guy with tattoos,” Johnny said jokingly. 

You snickered. “No, absolutely never.”

Mark seemed to have finally caught his breath. “Hey, Johnny guy. So, there’s not a team of snipers sitting outside this place?”

Johnny shook his head. “Nah. Doyoung really had it out for you guys, wanted to kill you himself.”

Mark sighed. “Where does Sol fit in all this? Doyoung said he was poisoned.”

Johnny shrugged. “Doyoung’s lied to you guys a lot, even all those years ago. He was planting fake clues to lead you guys astray, but you were still getting closer than he thought you would. So he threw in the towel.”

Hearing that made you frown. You’d looked up to Doyoung, admired him even. You hated that things had to end this way. “So is Margo really dead?”

“Who? That girl in your unit you were talking about on the plane?” Johnny asked. “I don’t know.”

Mark’s face fell. 

Your heart ached. Untangling yourself from Johnny’s arms, you walked over to Mark and pulled him in for a hug. “Go,” you whispered. “Look for her.”

“I have a better idea,” Johnny said. “If we get somewhere with better service, I can ask my team. If she’s dead, one of them probably know. Doyoung hasn’t been telling me stuff anymore for obvious reasons.”

Mark glanced at Johnny from over your shoulder. “You’re serious, dude? You’d do that?”

“A friend of the woman I love is a friend of mine. I can do a small favor. I have to let them know Doyoung’s dead anyway.”

Your heart warmed, but a question lingered over your head as you released Mark, and you asked, “But won’t they bark when they find out you killed him?”

Johnny’s shoulders shook as he laughed. There was a very, very tiny possibility, but that was why he took the kill. “Who said they had to find out? Dead men tell no tales.”

It was your turn to laugh. No one ever had to know. You could keep a secret, especially if it meant you’d be free from this hell. “I guess that’s true,” you replied, nodding. “Dead men tell no tales.”

[justmeinadaze]

Bite To Break The Skin (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: The more the days past the angstier this got. Please enjoy <3.

Warnings: Vampire Toxic Steddie X Human Fem Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, dry humping, male masturbation, degrading (whore, slut, little brat, etc) loss of virginity, choking, light spanking, biting, mentions of blood, crying (due to pleasure) I think that's all. Oh and aftercare always.

ANGST, Both boys struggle with their change, Eddie is beaten up by jocks, Steve has a fight with someone in his store, Metalhead feeds from Y/N and puts her in the hospital (goes to visit, was an accident), Steve feeds from her after school in her car.

Main event is at her house, they scare her while she's home alone before they use her (their words), Y/N cuts Eddie's arm with a knife but it heals quickly, a bit of jealous steddie near the end. Lots of conflict through out the story within them about becoming "villains".

Word Count: 7808

Steddie Masterlist/ Donate to Me

Part 2 here

Your pencil moved effortlessly along the sketchpad as you watched Eddie Munson sleep soundly on his desk after finally finishing his test. Students threw grumbled paper balls his way but he didn’t once stir. 

You, like everyone else, knew of Eddie and everything that had happened in March of 86. The people in Hawkins wouldn’t allow him to forget it as they whispered words like murderer and killer as he passed by in the halls. 

Before all that though, you were aware of him only as the metalhead who seemed to show no fear as he stood atop tables yelling or screamed about mythical fights during his club meetings. You never showed anyone but you had so many drawings of his smiling face especially when he was laughing with the younger boys at his table. 

When schools finally reopened after the earthquake that shook the town, everyone was surprised (and angered) that he was allowed to try and finish his last semester so he could get his diploma. 

He remained to himself which didn’t surprise you after everything he went through but what killed you was seeing that spark you enjoyed within him seem now totally absent. Eddie’s long hair would constantly block his face as his head hung while he stalked from class to class. His arms remained folded to his chest and he tried to stay as close to the shadows as possible. 

A BMW would pick him up after school that you soon learned belonged to Steve Harrington. The windows of his car that used to be rolled down constantly were closed tight and tinted as dark as they could go. You had some sketches of the former jock from his time at Hawkins high; the way his lips pouted out when he was trying to study in the library, him smiling with Nancy as he danced at a party you snuck into with your friends, and your personal favorite, Steve in his Scoops Ahoy uniform. 

Now adays, even his energy seemed to shift to a sad, darker tone that broke your heart. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why The King and The Freak of Hawkins were now spending so much time together but you ignored those internal questions as you continued to focus on your own boring life. 

The bell rung aggressively causing Eddie to shoot up and rub his eyes with his large, ring covered palms before absently pushing all the loose paper off his leather jacket. 

His beautiful brown eyes briefly met yours and you quickly looked away, grabbing all your books and backpack before scurrying out the door. 

***

“What movie should we get?”, your friend asked as her fingers lightly crazed the VHS tapes on the shelf of the Family Video. 

“Doesn’t matter.”, you shrug absently. “Whatever makes your heart happy.”

Your friend giggles as she picks up a box and begins absently telling you something you couldn’t care less about as the sound of gruff voices caught your attention. Gradually moving towards the noise, you paused to hide behind one of the racks as you watched Steve talking with a customer. His entire demeanor was rigid as he stood up tall seeming to tower over the man you recognized as a former student. 

“Get the fuck away from me, Harrington. We both know a pussy like you won’t do anything.”

“Talk about my friends again and I’ll show what I’m capable of.”

“Friends? What friends? That murderer who killed Chrissy or the whore who left you for that freak Byers?”

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, Steve pushes the boy into the wall so hard the VHSs in the case beside him fall loudly to the ground making you gasp in surprise. The pretty boy’s head tilts slightly in your direction but his eyes never leave the man in his grasp. 

“Ok, Steve, come on.”, a girl with an identical worker’s vest murmurs as she comes around to place her palm on his bicep. “Let him go.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as his knuckles tighten before shoving the kid to the side where he falls to the floor by your feet. Your gaze shifts towards the wall and your eyes blink in surprise at the slight dent made within the concrete that wasn’t there prior. 

Steve glances in the same direction and as his eyes meet yours, you duck your head and back away to find your friend. 

#################

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The sound of shouting and loud banging on the lockers down the hall from where you were sitting caused your head to snap to attention as your neck craned to find the source of the sound. 

Eddie’s forehead was leaning against the metal as his hand banged on it again before descending to the floor beneath him. 

“E-Excuse me? Are you alright?”

“Do I look fucking alright?”, he answered gruffly without opening his eyes to bother to see who he was speaking to. “I’m not in the mood to be spit on today so go the fuck away.”

“I…I’m not…I just wanted to make sure you’re ok. I can get you some water if you need it…”

When he finally bothers to look your way, every muscle within him freezes as he takes you in. You weren’t one of the popular kids and definitely didn’t seem to be a part of any clique he’d recognize judging from your exceptionally generic wardrobe. 

Your black jacket clung to your curvy form as if you were hoping it would shield you from everyone else around you. 

“I know you. We have a class together.”

“That’s right. I’m Y/N and you’re Eddie. Here, um, drink some of this. You look dehydrated.”

As you hand him your water bottle, his eyes never leave you as he absently chugs it back before coughing hard and throwing it down the hall. 

“Are you ok?! What happened?!”, you ask as you try to pat his back, pulling back abruptly when you feel how cold his skin is even through his shirt.

“Fuck! No…I’m…I’m—shit—I forget sometimes…I can’t…”, he coughs out as he gestures towards your bottle. 

“Munson! Where the fuck were you? I’ve been waiting—” Steve stops his rant when he realizes you’re standing next to his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. What the fuck are you doing here?! Are you following us?! Who are you?!”, he yells as he stomps forward, walking you backwards into the lockers behind you. 

“Steve she’s not…she goes to school here…”

Just as he had with the boy in the video store, his eyes remained on you but instead of doing the same, you searched his features realizing then that he seemed almost identical to Eddie in the since that he was shaking, sweating, and incredibly pale. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whimper. “He seemed sick and I was trying to help.”

Blinking, Steve took a step back as his head hung. 

“Stay away from us or else.”

Your jaw dropped at his threat, flabbergasted as you watched him grab his friend’s wrist and tug him out the door. 

***

Eddie wasn’t in class the following day and you couldn’t help but be worried. When you found him, he seemed incredibly ill and unlike everyone else in the town you wanted him to be ok. 

After school you thought maybe you could wait for him outside just to get visual confirmation he was ok without bothering him or being seen by Steve but as you took a step outside thunder banged loudly above you, barely covering the sound of laughter that echoed around the corner near the gym. 

“Yeah? Does it hurt, Munson?!”, someone shouted followed by the sound of a loud grunt in pain. “About as bad as you hurt Chrissy?!”

Rounding the corner, you found some of the kids you knew as basketball players for Hawkins High kicking and punching Eddie while he laid their bleeding on the gravel. 

Why wasn’t he fighting back?

“HEY!”, you screamed as another boy kicked him in the face right as the rain began to fall. “Stop that! You’ll kill him!”

Dropping your backpack, you ran forward surprised when the other kids ran off. 

“Eddie? Are you ok?!”

Just as you fell onto your knees, he pushed up onto his palms; his breathing heavy like Steve’s had been as you noticed his back rise and fall. The rain dampened his hair allowing it to hide his face from your view. 

“W-What can I do? Should I get Steve or—”

A loud growl cut you off as Eddie suddenly surged towards you knocking you onto your back and straddling your waist with his knees on either side as he held your arms down above you by the wrist. 

You still couldn’t see much of his face but you could swear you saw fangs as he flashed you a small smirk before lurching his lips towards your neck. Something sharp pierced your skin but your scream was muffled by the storm and his palm as you suddenly began to feel heavy. 

Feeling your body go limp, Eddie let you go but to his shock instead of fighting back, your fingers tangle in his hair as your other arm wrapped around his back to hug him tightly. 

All too quickly, he’s pulled off you and you vaguely see two figures through your hazy vision and hear deep grumbles of anger before the world goes black. 

*** 

Later that evening, you woke up in a hospital with your parents sobbing at your side. You told them and the doctor you couldn’t remember what happened which was partially true. You remembered protecting Eddie but then he pushed you down and…something stabbed your neck… it hurt at first but then…it didn’t…

The next couple of days were a blur as your body recuperated from whatever happened. You slept pretty much 24/7 with the doctors giving you some medicine to help. 

Your dreams were so vivid that you could swear they were real.

The first night, you thought you heard Steve Harrington beside your bed.

“I told you to stay away. Why didn’t you listen?” The hospital mattress beside you dipped and you felt a large palm pet your head. “Why did you help him? Why aren’t you like everyone else?”, he sighs. “He said your blood made him feel better. I…I don’t know if I can do that… I don’t know if I can…A part of me would rather die than hurt someone but…honey, I’m so…HUNGRY.”, Steve growled as he exhaled. 

The second evening, the smell of cigarette smoke had your eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open, vaguely seeing long hair and a leather jacket in the chair by your bed. 

“E-Eddie?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not here. I need you to try and forget about me ok? I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you again.” After a while, you thought you had fully fallen back asleep but you still felt rough hands reach for yours to hold them in their grasp. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You have no idea what this is like. We’ve been trying for so long not to give into that need but…it’s like I couldn’t control it…You have no idea how bad I wanted to kill them…and then my stomach felt like it was on fire…

Even now…I want to…I can feel that pulse in your neck…Fuuuuuck…it’s so overwhelming.”

 Fingers lightly brush the bandage against your skin before you whine as its roughly removed. 

“I know…I know it hurts. Can I…Can I kiss it and make it better?” A deep sigh leaves your lips as your head turns towards the feeling of a mouth gently pressed against your skin. “You tasted so sweet, Y/N… You don’t know how good it felt to have you hold me.” At his whispered words, his tongue lightly darted out to touch your wound as his palm tenderly cupped your face but everything in him paused as you listened to silence. “Holy shit…I didn’t know…I didn’t know I could do that…”

The heat of his humid breath warmed your face before the muscle between his teeth licked along your throat to your cheek.

“Wow.”

That morning when you woke up the doctors were baffled that the puncture wounds on your neck were suddenly gone. No scar or cut of any kind and even your pain had subsided as if nothing had ever happened. 

A couple of days later, you were finally able to go back to school but you felt eyes on you constantly. 

Entering your first class, within your usual seat, you found your backpack and your sketchbook waiting for you. Blinking in shock, you glanced towards the man who was normally sullen with his head hanging low doing anything to avoid eye contact but today his gorgeous chocolate hues locked with yours as a smile painted his lips. 

Eddie had a bit more color in his face than he normally did and he seemed a lot less agitated.

Choosing not to address him, you took your seat and flipped through your book. The pages were a bit worn due to the rain it had been out in but what gave you pause was some of the red stains along a few of the pages that looked like fingerprints near the corners. 

Once you got to the last sketch you drew of Eddie slumped over in his desk, a pink colored rose that had been smooshed between the pages fell into your lap. Next to the image of him someone had written lyrics to a heavy metal song you very much recognized. 

“Screams and nightmares

Of a life I want

Can't see living this lie, no

A world I haunt

You've lost all control of my

Heart and soul

Satan holds my future

Watch it unfold.”

When you swiveled your head to look his way again, his smile had widened as he watched you go through your things, giving you a little shiver as he tossed a not-so-subtle wink your way. 

***

“Y/N, seriously, your work is phenomenal.”, your teacher praises as he walks you to the long-abandoned parking lot and hands you the painting you had displayed for your art club after school. 

During your time in the hospital, you still sketched absently (or so you thought) and when you finally made it back home painted what you drew. Everyone was amazed and slightly horrified at the image of you asleep in your bed with an angel holding your hand. The angel’s face was distorted as his head rested on his arm but his halo above was tilted, almost being replaced by horns that were obscured by his wavy long hair. 

Beside him was another boy who didn’t have a halo or horns but wings with feathers that were shedding and being replaced with what appeared to be bat wings. His head hung as his palm touched the angel’s shoulder and the light colors that surrounded them were slowly being invaded by red. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fox. I, um, I’m not sure where it came from but I had some really weird dreams.”, you giggle. 

“I can imagine after what you went through. I want you to consider submitting that to the gallery I mentioned!”, he calls after you as you continue to walk to your car. 

“Yes, sir.”

 Smiling, you watch him drive away before a sudden swish sound above you has you looking towards the sky. The night was clear and honestly quite beautiful as the stars began to paint the darkness. When your eyes tilted back down to earth they were met with a tall broad figure who was panting heavily as his hair blocked his own. 

“S-Steve?”

You gasped at the abrupt feeling of someone else behind you as their chest pushes you forward towards the other boy. 

“It’s ok, Steve, trust me. You’ll feel so much better.”, Eddie murmured seductively. “Can’t you feel it? The pulse of that vein her neck…her shallow breathing…the way she smells…fuck…better than any other high I’ve had, man.”

The former jocks head tilts as your forehead presses against his. 

“I warned you…”, he whispered before rushing towards you and promptly biting into the flesh of your neck.

You squeaked at the sudden action as your fingers immediately clamped down on the back of his head but as that now familiar draining feeling overtook you, the metalhead’s lips tenderly kissing down the other side of your throat had your eyes fluttering closed as a small moan escaped at the feeling. 

With his friend unwilling to let you go, Eddie opened your car door and helped guide you both into the backseat. Your legs were bent at the knee on either side of his lap while his fingers bruised into your waist holding you to him while his free hand cradled your head. 

It felt almost involuntary when your hips began to grind against his. There was a heat coursing through your veins down to your core that desperately needed to be satisfied and when the bulge in his jeans pressed against your center, you knew he felt it to. 

Your movements were sloppy as your body weakened and you began to feel dizzy but the grunts mixed in with the slurping sounds coming from Steve’s lips were enough motivation to keep you going. 

“Atta girl. Fuck, I told you, Harrington, you’d feel better.”, Eddie murmured with a strain in his voice. 

Somehow managing to open your heavy eyes, you could vaguely make out his head lulled back as he watched you and his friend move while stroking his cock at a now rapid pace. 

“Please…”, you whimper and at the sound, Steve grabs your hair and yanks it back allowing him a good look at your face. 

His eyes seemed so much clearer and most if not all of the color had returned to his face. 

“You have to help her. Run your—fuck—tongue along the bite.” Steve turned to glance towards his friend before focusing on your weak form. “Lick her clean.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of skull when his large tongue swept from the exposed skin on your chest up to your neck. Your own pace hastened as your pressed down against him and fell against his shoulder when you felt your body tremble as the coil snapped. 

His limbs circled around you tightly as his own hips took over till his breathing stuttered and you felt the dampness moisten his jeans. Eddie grunted at the sight, leaning against you both as you felt him shudder and his pants warm your skin. 

That following morning you jolted upright in bed, trying to catch your breath as you try to figure out where you were. You were still in the same clothes you left school in minus your shoes and socks. 

Had it all been a dream?

Pushing up onto your palms, nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for your backpack that was placed by your bedroom door and your sketch book on your bedside table. 

Placed on top was another pink rose and when you flipped through the pages, you noticed more blood-stained fingerprints smeared along the pages. Touching your throat, you didn’t feel any wounds and for that you were thankful but when you changed out of your clothes, you noticed light purple bruising along your hips and upper back.

After running downstairs to grab some breakfast, you stopped when you noticed a note taped to the fridge. 

“Hey sweetie, 

Glad you got home alright. We were already in bed when you got in I guess so we weren’t able to tell you that your father and I will be out of town until Sunday. 

Food is in the white containers and if you need anything feel free to ask Mrs. Jenkins across the street. 

Love you,

Mom”

Noticing some imprints from a pen, you turned the paper over to find something written down in handwriting that definitely wasn’t your mothers. 

“I am the Antichrist

It's what I was meant to be

Your God left me behind

And set my soul to be free.”

Fuck… if what happened yesterday wasn’t a dream…then they know I’m going to be alone this weekend…

####################

Friday you skipped school entirely, staying up all night with a butcher knife in your hand, waiting for something that didn’t happen. Saturday you slept on and off throughout the day, jolting awake with every little sound within the house.

That night, you triple checked all the locks before deciding to take a bath to calm your nerves.

“I’m probably overreacting.”, you mumble as you climb into the warm water and allow your muscles to relax. 

As your eyes closed, you mind naturally wondered to the two men you had come into contract with more so within these couple of weeks than the past 4 years you had at school. Eddie and Steve were never mean or rude to you unlike the other student body could be on occasion. 

Steve’s reputation as a king followed him up until his senior year where he seemed much less…angry…than he had been before. You had many little random sketches here and there of the popular kids and looking back on one you did of him his junior year; he had been smiling but something seemed off about it. It wasn’t as natural as it seemed to be with Nancy Wheeler. 

The past four years, you had noticed so many bumps, bruises, and black eyes on his face making you fear for his safety at home but when you found out the Harringtons were never home, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

Eddie had always kept close to his Hellfire club which consisted of the people within his band so neither of you had any interactions if at all. You did see him play guitar once on stage and even had a drawing of it somewhere absolutely loving the way his face and body came to life. When everything with him happened, you never believed he did it. 

You heard through usual town gossip he had been found and was in the hospital for while with other kids including Steve. With the town now running a bit more smoothly you saw them more and more, always together and always dragging or sickly looking. 

Until last week when they…bit you…

Laughing to yourself, you rose to your feet and dried yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body as you ran to your bedroom to put on some shorts and a long sleeve shirt. 

Grabbing the brush by your stereo, you pressed play on the settings and waited for the radio to flow through. 

“Screams!

From a life I live

Torment

Is what I give”

You freeze, turning slowly to face the device as the song Eddie had been writing to you blares through. 

“Torture!

Is what I love

The downfall

Of heavens above.”

Rushing forward, you quickly turn it off with wide eyes before hearing a loud knock on your front door causing you to drop the brush in your hand. 

Hastily you grab the knife by your bed, holding it out for defense as you tiptoe down the stairs.

“W-Who is it?” 

No one answers.

“WHO IS IT!?”

The only response is another loud knock and shakily, you gather the strength to look through the peephole before an exasperated sigh leaves you and you open the barrier to find your neighbor on the other side. 

“Mrs. Jenkins, you scared me.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Did you ask who was there? You know how bad my hearing is. A downfall of getting older.”, she laughs. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard you were in the hospital last week and I told your mom I’d keep two eyes on you.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. It was just…low blood sugar I think.”

“Oh? Your mom said you were cut or something.”

Flashing her your skin, you smile as you reply, “No…no cuts.”

“Well, good. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am and I just took a bath so I think I’m just going to relax.”

“Alright, sweetheart, if you need anything just give me a call.”

After reassuring her, you close and lock your front door, shaking your head at your own jittery nerves. 

The phone blares startling you and you scold yourself once more as you reach to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“I’m sorry…who is this?”

“Oh, don’t break my heart and tell me you don’t know my voice. You’ve spent so much time drawing me I guess you never took the time to listen to me speak.”

Your eyes widen as you grab your knife and hold it out into the air while taking a quick scan around the room. 

“Eddie?”

“Good girl. I actually like your work. Last night Steve and I found some of your other books. Are you just like obsessed or what?”

“I-I-I draw what I see.”

“Hm…so…are you telling me while you were in the hospital you saw horns and a halo on my head?”

“I don’t know what I saw. When I paint…I paint what I feel…I dreamt about you a lot…”

“You and I both know that wasn’t a dream, sweetheart. I didn’t know if you were dead and we just needed to make sure you weren’t. Or that you didn’t become what we are.”

“What are you?”, you whisper as the tears begin to fall and you hear him chuckle. 

“I used to be a good man but then this town took that all away. I died for them and they didn’t fucking care!” Eddie growled loudly at his last word, sounding like an animal untamed. “Steve found that out later after everyone abandoned us. They kept insisting we could be good. ‘Don’t drink blood. Don’t hurt anyone. We’ll find a way.’. Well, IIIII found a way…through you…

Y/N, you have no clue how weak I was when those dicks were kicking my ass. I was losing blood and I was starving… and then there you were…”

“Please, Eddie, don’t do this.”, you beg but he continues as if he didn’t hear. 

“Jesus and then you held me…fuck, baby. To have someone nicely touch me again… When I found out I didn’t kill you or turn you, I knew. We forever have an untapped resource.”

“Haven’t you hurt me enough!? Just leave me alone!”

“Did we hurt you, honey?”, Steve replied with mocking taking over the call. “Your pussy grinding against my cock says otherwise.”

“I…I didn’t…I…”

“Are you a virgin, Y/N? Have you ever done that with anyone else? Dry humped them with your body so fucking close but not really touching?”

“Fuck you!!”

“That’s a yes on the virgin, Ed. Good…I like them better when they aren’t spoiled.”, he laughed. 

“Fuck you! I’m…I’m not…”

“Oh, yeah? You’ve had your cunt played with till you’re begging them to stop? Fingers so deep, reaching places inside you your little fingers could never hope to reach? A cock so far down your throat that you gag and choke cause you can’t handle the size but you don’t pull away because the little whore in you is desperate to make your partner feel good?”

While he spoke his husky, breath filled words, you continued to look from left to right prepared for one of them to pop out at any moment. 

“You’ve had a thick, hard dick stretch your pussy till you feel him in your stomach, fucking you so hard you’ll be sore in the morning?”

“I…I…”

“Didn’t think so.”

The line suddenly went dead and you screamed as the power went out. Tears streaked your cheeks as you exited the kitchen, searching everywhere for any sign of them but finding nothing. Something loud crashed in your parent’s room down the hall and you ran so fast up the stairs, slamming and locking the door for good measure. 

On your bed you noticed the phone was off the hook beside your sketch book that was open. 

They had been up here while talking to you…

How long had they been in the house??

Movement on the other side of the door stops you as you listen to footsteps bang loudly up each and every single step before ceasing just outside in the hallway. Covering your mouth, you silence the whimper that wants to escape as you watch the doorknob slowly turn left to right but fail to open the door. 

Quiet falls around you but as you take a couple of steps towards it, your door shakes as if any moment it will break off its hinges. Running towards the window, you open it with the goal of sneaking down the pipe and running to the neighbors. 

“Going somewhere?”, Steve replied casually as you scream and fall to the floor. 

While he hovers outside, you take in his large gray and black wings that allows him to suspend in the air as he smiles widely your way to showcase a set of fangs that had your mouth dropping in horror.

Entering your room, his bare feet touch the carpet and his wings make a sharp fluttering noise as they retract into his back. As you back out of his way, Steve saunters towards your bedroom door and opens it to allow Eddie entry. 

Both men seemed a bit paler than the last time you saw them with that hollow ring around the metalheads eyes that told you he was a lot more worse for wear than his friend. 

“I’m fucking starving.”, he growled, taking a step towards you before hissing loudly as he falls theatrically against your dresser. The knife in your hand had gashed a deep cut into his forearm, trailing blood as it dripped from the wound. “God fucking damn it! Ugh! Still fucking hurts!”

“Don’t be a baby.”, Steve laughs, holding up his friend’s arm to show it now fully healed. 

“Doesn’t make it not hurt, dick. How about a I let her slash you with the sharp ass knife next time! Come here, you fucking brat.”

You absently swing the knife but hit nothing as Eddie takes hold of your wrist and forces your fingers open to drop the weapon before pushing you down to your knees. With a firm grip on your hair, you watch as he unbuckles his pants and shimmies them down to free his cock from its confinement. 

You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening as he shoves his length into your open mouth. 

“Oh my God.”, he groans through clenched teeth as his palms clutch either side of your head while he thrusts his hips. “That’s it…keep your tongue flat…Y-You can take it.”

Falling to his knees beside you, Steve delicately moves some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Was that the first time you’d ever cum, Y/N? On my lap in your car?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you gag around Eddie’s cock before pulling your hair to yank you back and allowing you to breathe. “It’s ok, honey. You’re doing so good for us.”, he softly coos as his friend pushes you back onto him and grunts as he fucks your face. 

A large hand slides under the waistband of your shorts and you push your head back against a ringed palm when a long finger grazes your clit. 

“No panties? Naughty girl. It’s like you knew we were coming for you. Are you not wearing a bra either?”

Without waiting for an answer, Eddie roughly tugged off your shirt and both men mewled at the sight. 

“Jesus, baby. Why were you hiding in the shadows all this time?”, Steve whispers, pressing his forehead against your temple and your breathing stutters as his finger breaches your entrance squeezing tightly around him. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We are the shadow now.”

The metalhead smiles wickedly and shoves your mouth onto him again. Your senses were completely overwhelmed as Eddie’s cock continually hit the back of your throat and you gaged while feeling the heat rise along your body as the other curved his finger inside of you. 

Prepared, Steve wrapped his arm around you and tilted back slightly to watch your face as his ring finger joined his middle. Your back pushed against him but he was much stronger than you as he held you in place. 

“Don’t run from it. We got you. Fuck, Y/N, my favorite thing about virgins is how tight you are. We are going to ruin you, little girl. Who do you want to actually take you? You drew Eddie the most…”

The metalhead fully released you from his grasp and backed away as he began to tug off his clothes. 

“I may be a bit gentler than he is though.”, Steve laughs as his fingers thrust faster inside of you making you whine as you fully fall into his chest. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to pound you into that fucking mattress. Oop…she liked that, Ed. Her pussy just clenched tighter around me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it rough to, sweetheart?”

The former jocks free hand pulled your hair as he gritted his teeth. 

“Answer him.”

“I…I can’t…I…”

“You better try!”

“I…I like…like it…mmm...rough.”

“Close enough.”, Steve scoffed as he abruptly removed his hand from between your legs and pushed you against the carpet. 

Without saying a word, Eddie lifts you off the floor, tossing you onto your bed as if you weighed nothing and effortlessly ripped your shorts in half before throwing them to the floor. 

“Oh my…God.”, you moan as his head dips between your thighs and his mouth envelopes your clit.

“Mmm…fuck! You taste so fucking good.”, the metalhead growls, leaning back to spit between your folds and uses his cock to stroke it everywhere he needs it to be. His fingers bruise your legs as he yanks you closer and brings one of them over his shoulder before he gradually begins to push into your core.

“Wait…ow…”

“It’s ok, baby, you can take it. I’m—fuck—you’re lucky I’m going as slow as I am right now. Goddamn, Steve, you were right…so fucking tight.”

You felt like you were being split in half as the sheer size of him overwhelmed you. He thrust his hips gradually, allowing every inch of him to carefully fill you but as he clung to your thigh and muttered obscenities, you could tell he was right… you were lucky he hadn’t lost all will and just snapped his hips to push himself deeper into you. 

Something wet poking your lips caused you to turn your head to find Steve’s leaking cock prodding at your mouth.

“No.”, Eddie growled making his friend freeze. “I’m not done watching her face.”

Steve made a small pfft sound as he continued forward, licking his lips when your tongue lightly grazed his tip but the metalhead’s palm pushing at his chest startled even you as you began to back away. 

“Don’t fucking move!”, he hissed, keeping a firm grip on your thighs and yanking you closer to him before glaring at the pretty boy. “I said…I’m not done…”

“She doesn’t just belong to you, Munson.”

“Fine.”, he spat. “But I want you out of the fucking way entirely when I eat.”

“Noted.”

Now amped with angry energy, Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair as he guided his cock between your lips, mewling loudly as you moaned at the feeling of Eddie no longer being gentle, thrusting his length so deep inside you, you knew you’d be sore for days. 

“God, your tits are perfect.”, the former jock panted as his large hand kneaded your breast. “I just want to slide my dick between them…play with them with my new teeth--Shit, Y/N—how does his cock feel now?”

“G-Good…”, you moan when he pulls out to allow you to answer. 

Steve growled prominently when Eddie pushed him backward, dropping your leg to the mattress so he could hover over you. 

“It’s about to get better.”, he announces before bearing you his fangs causing your eyes to widen in fear. “Right when you’re about to cum…I want to hear you moan my name. Do you understand?” When you only nod, his palm wraps around your throat as he presses his lips onto the shell of your ear. “Tell me you understand, you little whore, so I know I’m being heard.”

“I understand.”, you whimper tilting your head to kiss his cheek. 

The action startles him slightly as his eyes scan over your face. 

For just a moment, you see the boy you drew so many times before. The soft but loud kid that would walk on tables and spend time with the underclassmen…

But that was short lived as his pupils turned black and his teeth bit into your neck. 

“Ah…Eddie.”

That dizzy feeling you felt before began to overtake you but was immediately overpowered when his hips rolled hard into yours punching his cock deep into the soft spot inside you that had your eyes fluttering shut. It felt almost like a dream again when your arms lifted to drag your nails down his back and he growled softly at the feeling. 

“Eddie…”

Your legs wrapped around his waist as his pace quickened and the headboard began to slam into the wall at his intensity. 

“Edd—ie…”

The man’s muscular arm shot out to grab the wood above you, trying his best to hold it still and it was then that you realized he was doing that so he could hear you better. 

That feeling that had been building in the pit of your stomach shot down to your core and you practically screamed his name as your body trembled against his. His teeth retracted as his tongue ran along the soreness in your neck and you instantly felt better as he chased his own high. 

“Beg me, whore. Beg for my fucking cum.”

“I…I don’t…I’ve never talked that way…”

Eddie’s palm grips your throat as he growls like a feral animal in your ear. 

“It’s not that fucking complicated. BEG. ME. FOR. MY. CUM!” Between each word, he punctuated it with a rough slam of his hips and you whined at the feeling. 

“Please, E-Eddie, I want you…want you to cum. I-I want to feel you cum.”

“Fuck…where, baby? Where do you want me to cum?”

“O-On…On me…on my tits!”, you hurried when you could tell you weren’t answering correctly but when you finally did, he chuckled. 

“Bad girl. You chose that to make Harrington jealous, huh? Alright.” After a few more rough pumps, Eddie hastily pulled out and climbed up your body, stroking his cock till he painted your chest with his release. Smiling cheekily at his friend, he climbed off you and pat his shoulder. “Your turn.”

Steve growled but to you his always sounded different; deeper. As if it came from his stomach whereas Eddie’s came from his chest. It oddly sounded…angrier…more protective. 

“You wanted to make me jealous? Get a rise out of me?”

“No, Steve, no.”

His eyebrow raises sarcastically as if he doesn’t believe you and he firmly grabs your arms, manhandling you onto hands and knees. Swatting your thigh, he makes sure your legs are as far as they can go in your current position before one of his hands clings to your shoulder while the other guides his cock inside your entrance. 

Your mouth falls open as you push up onto your palms and he gradually thrusts his hips.

“Goddamn… look how wet you fucking are. Munson made you feel really good, huh? Fuck, your pussy is just making a mess all over my dick.”

One he found a good rhythm, your head hung as he aggressively slammed his body into yours. Feeling something wet land on his fingers, he pulled you to his chest and your head leaned against his shoulder as he slowly rolled his cock past all your sensitive areas into your stomach. 

“Why are you crying, little girl? Does it hurt…my cock ruining your cunt?”

“N-N-Noooo…Mmph… feels…feels good.”

You felt him smile against your cheek as his hand slid from your throat down to your collarbone. 

“I know, honey, I know.”

That now familiar pain of something sharp digging into your flesh had you screaming his name as one of your hands tangled in his hair. Steve’s fingers surprised you as he pushed them into your mouth and along your tongue before sliding them between your legs to play with your clit. 

“STEVE!”

The man grunted at the sound of his name as your body began to shake. That dizzying feeling swept through you and you couldn’t help it when through your own tears a little smile painted your lips. 

“Steve…please…”

Just as Eddie had done, his tongue licked along your pain and as soon as it disappeared, your cheek was pushed into the mattress as his massive palm remained against your head holding you down with your ass still in the air as he slammed into you. 

“That’s it…fucking whore…keep your pussy open for me till I’m…fucking done using it.”

With every ah that left you, his pace increased as if your pleasure was egging him on. Moaning his name, you cling to the sheets underneath your hands as you came. Grunting at the tight feeling, you felt his hips stutter and you would be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t giddy at the thought that he may cum inside you. The notion that you made him lose control enough that he couldn’t help but do it had your pussy continually quivering as if she were begging on your behalf. 

Just at the last second, Steve pulled out and you watched over your shoulder as he rapidly stroked his cock till his spend landed on your behind that he promptly spanked for good measure. 

You weren’t sure what happens now but all you knew was your brain and body felt incredibly heavy as if you had just run a marathon.

The lights in your room snapped on and you hissed as you blocked your eyes behind your hand before you were suddenly lifted by Eddie who carried you to your bathroom. He tried placing you on your feet but your eyes rolled as you tilted forward and he promptly caught you guiding you to the tile floor. 

“Is…is she ok?”

You knew that voice…it was soft and kind yet filled with worry. You hadn’t heard it since high school.

“Steve?”

“I think so. I think maybe we took too much?”, Eddie answered in a concerned and uncertain way that had you unsure this was even the same two people you were just with.

“Eddie?”

“I thought you said the licking helped?”

“I said it cures the bite. I’m not sure what it does when we feed.”

“Goddamn it, Ed.”, the man growled cause the metalhead to do the same.

Pushing at his chest, you crawled to the toilet and the sound of you vomiting echoed through. A ringed hand tenderly pet you head and as you leaned back against the wall, you notice Eddie’s eyes were no longer black but the brown you remembered. 

“I know you.”, you slurred, reaching out to touch his cheek. 

“Go get her some water and make sure there’s no blood on her sheets or floor.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Munson.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to kill anyone, Harrington. If you had let me kill those fuckers that beat the shit out of me then we maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

You jumped at the sound of something banging loudly and when you narrowed your eyes to try and see better, the bathroom door was open and Steve was gone. Silently, Eddie put together a bath and carefully placed you in the water. 

Your eyes remained closed as a rag was run across your body before being casually tossed to the side. You thought you were alone after a while, hearing nothing but your own breath until fingers lightly traced down your cheeks to your lips. 

“I wish we had met you before all this. I would have talked to you if you came up to me at lunch or in class. Maybe taken you out on a date…fallen in love… but then maybe that would mean you would be dead… like Chrissy. Then again, maybe if you had come home with me that night everything would have been different…”

Heavily sighing, Eddie takes you in his arms and sits you on the edge of the porcelain as he dries you off. 

“Eddie? Am I dreaming?”

The metalhead snorts out a laugh as he collects you once more and carries you to your bedroom. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re dreaming.”

“Oh…”

When he places you down on your bed, a new set of warm hands pull a baggy shirt over your head before something cold is placed near your lips causing you to flinch away. 

“No, hey, this is just water, honey.”

Nodding, you sip the liquid back with loud chugging slurps that has Steve chuckle through his teeth. When your finished you try to hand it to him but it falls from your grasp. While you wait for the sound of glass to shatter you open your eyes to see he had extended out his arm to catch it.

Your glassy eyes scan along his face that has more color in it now than it did before but even you can feel the intense dark energy still radiating from them both. Your hands shake slightly as you reach out to touch the red indent along his neck and he sighs as his forehead leans against yours.

His eyes close as your fingers trail down his hairy chest to his stomach but just as they begin to graze what appears to be a deep scar, the glass in his hand breaks on the floor as his palm aggressively reaches out to grab your wrist while that gruff growl escapes him. 

“I warned you, Y/N…”

“It doesn’t matter right? Because this is a dream…”

Again, he laughs as he releases his hold on you long enough to tilt you back into your bed and pull the covers over you. 

“Yeah, baby, it’s all a dream except for that soreness between your legs. That’s real. Do you know why?”

“Because you belong to us now.”, Eddie answers for you when you shake your head. “Steve was right, Y/N, we are the shadows…”, he whispers as he kneels down to pet your head and place a fresh smelling pink rose on your bedside table. “So don’t you dare dream of anyone else, pretty girl, or else we’ll make you both regret it.”

#################

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @veemoon @hardladyheart

[rosinaparker]

Hi! Hope you’re doing okay :) I was wondering if I could request Izuku being a simp, bending over backwards for whatever his (future) girlfriend wants, (she doesn’t know that), and finally he gets a push (literally) from Bakugo and he confesses his love for reader and happy ending- thank youu

“You have me wrapped around your finger”

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Warnings: none

a/n: hii sorry that we're getting to yalls requests so late...this was one ended up being a bit sloppy excuse me for that😔🙏-Rose✩

Izuku Midoriya was known for a lot of things: being quirkless once upon a time, inheriting the power of the greatest hero in history, and muttering until his face turned red. But above all else, Izuku Midoriya was a certified simp. For you.

It wasn’t something you’d notice unless you paid close attention, which you didn’t. Not really. To you, Izuku was just your kind and reliable friend who always seemed to go above and beyond without you even asking. But to anyone else—like his classmates—it was blatantly obvious.

When you mentioned your favorite brand of tea during lunch one time? It magically appeared in his grocery bag later that week, tucked neatly next to his protein bars. If you complained about a sore shoulder after training, Izuku would “happen to have” a heating pad in his room and deliver it to you like some kind of awkward but adorable hero.

And when you asked him for little favors, he made them his entire personality.

“Midoriya, could you pick up my notebook from class? I left it on my desk.”

“Y-yeah! Of course!” he stammered, darting off at full speed like you’d just asked him to retrieve the Holy Grail.

You thought he was just sweet and thoughtful. Everyone else? They thought he was pathetic.

It wasn’t like Izuku wanted to be pathetic. It wasn’t like he woke up every morning thinking, How can I make myself look like more of a doormat today? No, he was just hopelessly in love with you and had no idea how to tell you without combusting on the spot. So instead, he did everything in his power to make your life easier—thinking maybe, just maybe, you’d notice one day.

today you had a grueling training session. You’d just finished sparring with Uraraka, looking exhausted but still smiling as you wiped sweat from your forehead. “Man, I’m wiped,” you said, turning to Izuku with a tired grin. “Think you could grab me a water bottle from the vending machine?”

“Yeah! Right away!” Izuku’s voice cracked as he sprinted off, already pulling out his wallet.

Bakugo stood nearby, watching the whole interaction with a look of pure disdain. When Izuku returned, practically tripping over himself to hand you the water bottle, Bakugo couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re pathetic, Deku,” he sneered, stomping up to them like a storm cloud.

Izuku blinked, confused and panicked. “K-Kacchan, what are you—”

“What the hell are you doing, huh?” Bakugo barked, shoving Izuku in the chest. “Carrying her bags, fetching her water, running around like her damn servant—what are you, her personal butler now?”

Your eyes widened. “Dude chill—”

“Shut up, I’m not talking to you!” Bakugo snapped, shooting you a sharp glare before turning back to Izuku. “When are you gonna grow a spine, huh? You think doing all this crap is gonna make her like you? That she’s just gonna magically figure out you’re in love with her? You’re so damn pathetic it’s embarrassing!”

“Kacchan, stop!” Izuku tried to protest, his face bright red and his hands shaking. “It’s not—” Bakugo didn’t let him finish. With one sharp shove to the chest, he sent Izuku stumbling forward—straight into you.

“Bakugo, what the hell—!” you shouted, barely catching Izuku before he toppled over. Your hands gripped his arms tightly, steadying him as he stared at you with wide, panicked eyes.

“Go on, say it!” Bakugo barked, ignoring you completely. “Tell her, or I’ll knock it out of you myself!”

Izuku froze, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. You frowned, your hands still on his arms. “Tell me what? What’s he talking about, Izuku?”

The green haired boy swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he stared into your curious, worried eyes. He couldn’t keep running, couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses and small gestures. Not anymore.

“I like you!” he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut as the words tumbled out of him. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and I know I probably don’t deserve someone like you, but I just wanted to make you happy, and—”

“Midoriya,” you interrupted softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. His eyes flew open, his breath hitching as he looked at you.

“You really like me?” you asked, your voice gentle but serious.

“I do,” he whispered. “So much.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “Good. Because I like you too.”

For a moment, Izuku forgot how to breathe. “Y-you do?”

You laughed, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. “Yes, you idiot.”

Behind you, Bakugo rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “Finally. You two are so sickening it makes me want to puke.”

Neither of you paid him any mind. For once, Izuku didn’t care what Bakugo thought. Because you liked him back—and that was all that mattered.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (11 - Nightmares)

Chapter Summary: “Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.” You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture. 

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.4k | Chapter Tags: None

A/N: Welcome to Part 2, To Build A Home, or basically the history of Y/N and Wanda before Westview, starting at the end of Ultron. Most of Part 2 will be told from Y/N's perspective. Part 3 will be Wanda's. Without further ado... // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The place smelled like rust and copper—of blood. The warehouse was enormous and maze-like in its structure, and somewhere in the distance, metal groaned like a wounded animal. You had just put two of Ulysses Klaue's men down—clean shots and no hesitation. Their bodies lay cooling on the concrete as you readied yourself to confront anyone else who stood in your way.

You tapped your earpiece. “Nat, Clint, what's your position?”

Static replied, a white noise that filled your head like ocean waves crashing inside a seashell. 

You tapped the communicator, harder this time. 

“Do you copy?” More static.

And, weirdly enough, more silence. Just a minute ago, the area was crawling with hostiles. Now, you could hear your own muted steps. You were always light on your feet, just as you were trained to be.

You glanced over your shoulder. The two men you took out were gone. The floor where they fell was clean, no blood, no bodies. You blinked hard, but the scene didn't change.

“What the—” you muttered to yourself before you took a step and the ground beneath you suddenly felt like it was made of quicksand.

Before you could react, the floor gave way entirely. You plunged downward, swallowed by the very ground you stood on. The sensation was disorienting—a free fall through darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. Your stomach lurched as you tried to grasp at anything, but your fingers closed around empty air.

Then, as suddenly as the fall began, it ended. You landed softly, as if the air itself cushioned your descent. You found yourself standing in a bright corridor with white walls and sterile white lights—nothing that indicated a warehouse. The air smelled of antiseptic and faintly of lavender.

A distant cry erupted down the haul—a child's wail. The sound of it dug into your bones and you followed its source because you had to, because it was pulling you like a magnet draws steel.

You walked down the corridor, vaguely unaware that you had none of your weapons with you, the armor you donned replaced by a white hospital gown. Doors lined the walls, each identical, each a possible gateway to something you weren't sure you wanted to face. The cry came again, more urgent this time. It was coming from the last door on the left. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned the cold knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small hospital room bathed in harsh fluorescent light. On the bed lay a woman and  recognized her immediately. Your mother, but younger, frail and exhausted. Her eyes were closed, and her hands rested gently on her swollen belly.

A nurse glided quietly around, checking the beeping instruments, scribbling on a clipboard. She glanced up and looked directly at you, but it was as if she didn't see you at all.

Your mother stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Is he okay?” she asked weakly.

The nurse smiled reassuringly. “You're doing fine. Just rest.”

Your heart thudded, the hairs on your arms rising without your consent. This was the day—you realized—the day everything changed. The day you were born, and your twin brother wasn’t.

A doctor entered the room, his expression serious. He whispered something to the nurse, and they both looked solemn. Your mother noticed. “What's wrong?” she demanded.

The doctor sighed. “I'm sorry, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Your mother’s face twisted in anguish. “No... no, that can't be.”

She looked down at her belly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Which one?”

“The boy,” the doctor replied softly.

A raw, wrenching sob broke from her. “It should have been her,” she cried bitterly. “I wanted a son. Not... this.”

Something inside you shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to reach out to her, to tell her you were sorry, to convince her it wasn’t your fault. But you couldn't move, rooted to the spot by an invisible force.

The room started to blur, its edges bleeding out like ink on damp paper. You blinked, and suddenly you found yourself in a darker corridor, its walls creeping closer with each heavy step you took. 

You heard footsteps behind you—a slow, deliberate pace that sent a chill down your spine. You quickened your stride, but the footsteps matched your speed. You broke into a run, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Rounding a corner, you slammed into a figure. Stumbling backward, you looked up to see your twin—the shadowy figure that resembled you but wasn't you. Its eyes were hollow as if they had never fully formed.

“Why did you take everything?” It spoke.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.

It leaned closer to you.

“Yes, you did.”

Voices overlapped, a cacophony of accusations and doubts and things you believed in and kept running away from.

“You're just a thief.”

“A murderer before you were even born.”

“Who's the real villain here?”

You clapped your hands over your ears and screamed at the top of your lungs but no sound came out.

The ground shook, cracks racing across the floor, chunks tumbling into the dark below. You struggled to stay upright.

“It should’ve been her.”

“Sickly girl.”

“What a waste.”

“Y/N!”

A jolt ran through you as someone shook your shoulder. Instinct took over. Your hand flew to your sidearm, drawing it in one fluid motion as you spun around.

The shot rang out. 

“Whoa! It’s me!” Clint exclaimed, ducking just in time as your pistol aimed where his head had been a split second before, the bullet embedding itself in a stack of crates behind him.

Horror washed over you as you realized what you’d almost done. “Clint... I...”

He retrieved your pistol from the floor, hesitated, then handed it back to you butt-first. “It’s okay, kid. You weren’t the only one.”

—

“You didn’t even read the briefing, did you?” Clint smirked, handing you a bottle of water. You took a long gulp, wiping your lips with your thumb when you were done. No matter how much you drank, you still felt parched. Glancing around, you spotted Steve and Tony whispering. Judging from the look on their faces, you could tell that what happened to you also happened to them.

“What is she? Some kind of witch or something?” you groaned, massaging your temple. 

“Steve sent us the profiles on the Maximoff twins well before we boarded the Quinjet. It was all in there,” Clint added, sitting down beside you.

You kept quiet, avoiding his eyes. You rarely did your homework before a mission—why would this time be any different?

“That’s exactly why you walked into her trap,” he snapped, taking your silence as an answer. “Knowing your enemy is basic, whether you’ve got a god on your side or not.”

You nodded, taking the ribbing with good grace. 

“Maybe if you hadn't gone so easy on her,” you retorted, leaning back against the curved bulkhead of the jet. You briefly closed your eyes, only to snap them open immediately, not wanting to be haunted by the persistent vision. You wondered how long the after effects of the Maximoff witch would last.

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in a way that was unmistakably patronizing. You hated when he got like this. Hated how your random outbursts never affected him.

“Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.”

You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture. 

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

“What did you see in there?” Clint suddenly asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You shrugged, not wanting to revisit that experience even in your mind. The mere thought of it sickened you. Only someone truly evil would subject another to such a nightmare for tactical advantage. Physical violation was one thing, but to invade the mind? That was a trick only a truly depraved person would consider. 

“Nothing,” you replied curtly.

“Talking can help, you know?” he offered gently, but he was already rising from his seat, giving you the room you seemed to need.

“Maybe that works for old-timers,” you tossed back. “Never worked for me.”

—

When Ultron ultimately went down, it felt far from victory. Survivors moved like ghosts, blank-faced and aimless in their direction, clutching what’s left of their former lives. You stood there, surrounded by twisted metal and smoldering ruins—another battle won, another piece of yourself lost. 

Your eyes landed on Wanda. She perched on a heap of debris, crimson energy fading from her fingertips like the last wisps of smoke. She stared into nothingness, eyes as clear as shore but with nothing there to find.

You knew that look. The emptiness when half of you is gone. Both of you were twins once. Now, both alone. You never got to know the boy you lived with for nine months because he never made it outside your mother’s womb. But just knowing he was there, that he existed, left a void that would never be suffused. You’d always feel incomplete, forever wondering if you truly deserved to be the one who lived.

You understood her pain, at least in an abstract, cataloged kind of way. But empathy was a luxury you couldn't afford, not with the bitterness festering inside you. Ever since she got into your head and forced your past to rear its ugly head, you haven’t been able to properly sleep for days on end. You fundamentally opposed Steve's choice to collaborate with the Maximoffs, believing they belonged in a containment cell, not on the field. You saw how Wanda fought off Ultron’s droids. She was extremely dangerous—maybe even more so when she felt so strongly.

The quinjet touched down at the Avengers facility, its engines winding down with a low whine. You disembarked with the other quietly, dirt and grime clinging to your skin and suits like mold. 

Steve called everyone to the landing pad. He looked over the team—bruised and battered, yet standing. Morale was low, but Steve saw this as an opportunity for growth. You preferred Tony's approach. When things went sideways, he'd hit the bottles and maybe blow off steam by blowing up a few empty depots. His way of coping suited you better than Captain America's endless supply of pep talks.

“Good work out there,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “Get some rest. We'll debrief in the morning.”

He turned to you as the group began to disperse. “Could you show Wanda to her quarters? They're next to yours.”

You met his eyes and scowled. The nerve of him to ask that. Without a word, you turned on your heel and headed down the corridor toward your room.

“Hey!” Steve's voice followed you. “I'm talking to you!”

“Let it go,” Natasha murmured to him. You caught it, just barely, over the pounding in your ears.

“That's not acceptable,” Steve argued.

“She's been through hell,” Natasha interrupted. “We all have. Give her some space.”

Wanda stood where you'd left her, eyes fixed on the floor, as if she wished it would swallow her whole. She hadn't reacted to the exchange, lost in her own head.

Steve ran a hand over his face, the first signs of weariness lining his forehead. “Fine. Can you take Wanda to her room, then?”

Natasha nodded. “Come on, Wanda,” she said, tilting her head toward the direction they needed to go, the same one you disappeared into a moment ago. “Let's get you settled.”

Wanda allowed herself to be led away. Steve watched them go before his thoughts returned to you and he shook his head; there were battles worth fighting, and this wasn't one of them.

In your room, you slammed the door shut, making a sharp sound that hurt your own ears. It’s exactly as you left it—sterile, impersonal, a place where nothing bad had ever happened because nothing had ever happened at all. 

You paced the length of the room, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending tingling with restless energy even though you were sure earlier that you had given it your all on the battlefield. Steve has sided with a known terrorist, and now he's brought her to the doorstep. This compound might never have felt like home, but still, it was your sanctuary—a place to let your guard down once in a while.

A few minutes later, after you had been sitting on your bed, staring at the blank wall, there was a soft knock at your door.

“Go away,” you muttered.

The door swung open abruptly, and you let yourself collapse onto your back near the foot of the bed with a sigh.

“Steve's worried about you,” Natasha stated, peering down at you as you gazed up at her upturned figure.

“Steve worries about everything.”

“He asked me to check in.”

“Consider me checked.”

She studied you for a moment. “She's not your enemy anymore, you know?”

“Tell that to Banner.”

“People change.”

You shrugged. “Not that much.”

Natasha crossed her arms and then sat beside you. There were a few beats of silence, a moment for both of you to gauge each other before you sat up and looked over at her.

“She gave you nightmares, too, right? Even if you never told me what they were, I doubt they were pretty.”

Natasha's face remained docile, not betraying any sign that she was merely keeping up appearances or that she secretly despised Wanda too. You envied her control over her emotions, how she concealed herself from the world while still managing to be a good friend without restraint.

“Worst I've had in years,” she admitted. “But she was on the other side then. Doing what she thought was right. Fighting for what she believed in.”

You scoffed. “That's supposed to make it okay?”

“No,” she said softly. “But maybe understandable.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that. You knew Natasha had a point. You’d do everything you could to neutralize an opponent, and the twins simply did the same thing.

“We can't fault her forever for surviving,” she continued. “For doing what she had to do.”

You didn't say anything. Admitting she was right—like she always seemed to be—felt too much like giving in. You've never won an argument with Natasha, and it was both infuriating and impressive. Each time you tried to best her, it ended the same way: with you respecting her even more for her relentless logic.

She glanced at you. “You don't have to forgive her. No one's asking you to. But dwelling on things that are over? That's a prison of your own making.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped. You knew you sounded juvenile, but you couldn't hold back. "Not all of us can just flip a switch and turn it off.”

She gave a small, mirthless laugh. “There's no switch. Just choices. Every damn day.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can distract yourself if you have to. Find something else to focus on. Just so you don't have to think about it all the time.”

“And if I don't want to forget?”

“Then don't,” she said softly. “But don't let it consume you either.”

She stood up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her suit. “Get some rest.”

As she made for the door, you couldn’t help but fire off one last parting shot. “You can bet I won’t forgive her. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

Natasha paused but didn't turn around.

“Thanks for the therapy session,” you said, laying down again and rolling onto your side with your back to her.

You expected her to leave after that, but instead, she lingered, sharing an unwarranted piece of information.

“Wanda's in the room next to yours.”

“I know,” you said, getting up to close the door after her.

—

The walls of the quarters were supposed to be fortress thick, but when you dragged yourself out of bed for a midnight raid on the fridge, the sliver of light bleeding from under Wanda's door was impossible to ignore. So, she was awake. You paused, your gaze fixed on the thin glow, suspicion worming its way through your thoughts. Was she plotting something in there, alone with her powers at this ungodly hour? You shook your head slightly, dismissing the creeping paranoia. If Wanda decided to turn on them, well, that was Steve's headache to deal with. With a shrug, you turned away, your mind settling back on the rumble in your stomach as you headed towards the kitchen.

You assembled the basics: bread, peanut butter, jelly. The ritual to your favorite snack was almost therapeutic—the smooth glide of the knife spreading peanut butter thick, jelly thin, just the way you liked it. You grabbed another knife to cut off the crusts, a habit you never quite outgrew.

As you began slicing the edges, a figure materialized through the wall beside you.

“Jesus!” you yelped, the knife slipping and nearly nicking your finger. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stumbled back.

“My apologies,” Vision said.

You took a deep breath, clutching your chest. “Could you not do that? Ever heard of using a door like a normal person?”

He tilted his head, considering your words. “You are correct. I should adhere to conventional modes of entry. I will take note of that next time.”

“Great,” you mumbled, turning back to your sandwich with a huff. Your hands trembled slightly as you resumed cutting. It was still strange to hear J.A.R.V.I.S’ voice coming out of this being’s mouth.

Vision stepped fully into the kitchen. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Vision.”

You eyed him warily. “I know who you are.”

“May I inquire about your culinary creation?” Vision asked.

“It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

He stepped closer, examining it with keen interest. “The coloration is intriguing. I haven't encountered many purple foods in my lifetime.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You've been alive for, what, three days? Not exactly a lifetime.”

A subtle smile crossed his face. “An accurate assessment.”

You chuckled softly. “Grape jelly. A classic. You should try it sometime.”

“Not sure if I could,” he replied. “But perhaps I will.”

Vision hovered. The silence stretched just long enough to become awkward. You were too spaced out to bother breaking it. 

“Speaking of food,” he began, “Miss Maximoff hasn’t eaten. Nothing in over twelve hours.”

You were about to take your first bite, but the mention of Wanda left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“And why is that my problem?”

“Given that her quarters are adjacent to yours, I thought you might be concerned,” Vision said.

“Concerned? About the person who messed with my head? Hard pass.”

Vision regarded you with those unblinking eyes. “Holding onto resentment can be detrimental to one's well-being.”

“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?”

He seemed unfazed. “I simply thought informing you would be appropriate. Miss Maximoff appears... isolated.”

“Not my issue,” you grumbled, but the image of Wanda alone flashed through your mind. Despite yourself, you felt a pang of sympathy.

Vision nodded slowly. “Very well. If you'll excuse me.” 

He turned to leave, this time opting for the doorway instead of phasing through the wall. You watched him go, a sour twist in your gut.

“Wait,” you called out before you could stop yourself.

He did, looking back at you expectantly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, just... take her something to eat. Here.” You shoved the sandwich plate toward him.

He glanced down at the offering. “It might be more meaningful if you delivered it yourself.”

“Yeah, that's not happening.”

He accepted the plate. “I will relay the gesture.”

“Don’t,” you rushed out. “I mean, don’t tell her it’s from me.”

Vision appeared to hesitate, but acquiesced with a nod. 

“Great,” you said, already regretting the impulse. “Gotta run.” You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair. 

“Are you going out at this hour?” Vision asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Might as well own the night.”

“Do be careful,” he advised. “The city can be unpredictable after dark.”

You managed a faint smirk. “Unpredictable is where I thrive.”

You were due for a night out anyway.

[bcmbiquinn]

BURNING FLAMES

Summary: Emperor Geta, known for his cruelty and cunning, rules with an iron fist, determined to leave a legacy of strength and dominance had fallen in love with a young servant, who’d turned his entire world upside down.

Pairing: Emperor Geta | fem!reader

w/c: 2.6k

Content warning: Smut +18, minors dni.

Credits for divider: @fanguro @aquazero

The grand halls of the Palatine Palace were always a hive of activity, filled with the soft rustle of robes, the echo of sandals on marble, and the murmurs of servants carrying out their duties. Emperor Geta, draped in a deep crimson toga, stalked through the corridors like a lion surveying its domain. He thrived on control, on the fear he commanded with a single glance

One afternoon in the marble halls of the palace, Emperor Geta strode through his domain. His eyes dark as obsidian swept over the bowing servants with cold indifference. At twenty three he had already earned a reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty that could make any man shake in fear in just his presence.

As he kept walking, he noticed you.

You stood among the other servants, your head bowed like the rest of them, but something about you caught his attention. Perhaps it was the way your dark curls fell down on your shoulders or how your hands, though roughened by work, moved with unexpected grace fixing your tunic.

Geta found himself slowing his pace, an action that confused his guards. The emperor never slowed for anyone

“You.” He said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “Look at me”

You raised your eyes and Geta's world seemed to stop, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. Your eyes were the colour of amber honey, and though fear flickered in their depths, there was something else there, a quiet strength and magic that both intrigued and unsettled him.

“Your name.” he demanded.

“y/n, dominus.” You answered, your voice steady despite your obvious trepidation.

Geta looked down and up at you, wondering what it was you had that had captivated him so deeply. As his heart started racing, he walked away, anger building within, how dare you, a servant, make him feel this way? At the mercy of his most primal desires.

One evening as you were arranging fresh flowers in a golden vase, a guard approached you, the emperor demanded your presence at his chambers. You felt your heart dropped, all possible scenarios running through your mind. Have you done something wrong? Did you forget to pour wine in his goblet? Did you dare to look at him wrongly?

You shake your head trying to appease your thoughts, you look up at the guard and nodded . He turned around and you followed him to the emperor’s chambers.

In the dim flicker of oil lamps, Geta stood rigid at the marble balcony overlooking Rome. His hands gripped the stoned edge tightly, his jaw clenched, as he could crush the feelings threatening to spill forth.

As you walked inside the chamber, Geta turned slightly, the full moon highlighted his strong features.

“You summoned me, dominus?” Your soft voice broke the silence.

He turned, his dark eyes narrowing as they landed on you. You bowed your head, not daring to defy him and look at him. He walked toward you, staring deep into your soul, he looked at how you were dressed in a plain tunic that clung to your slender form, your dark curls falling down your shoulders. You were no noblewoman, no consort of rank yet you stirred something within him that no legion or conquest ever had.

“Yes” he said, his voice sharper than intended. He cleared his throat. “Pour the wine.”

Obediently, you crossed the room, your steps light but deliberate. He watched you, his eyes betraying a hunger he despised in himself. He was Geta, ruler of Rome, a man feared and revered in equal measure. And yet, in your presence, he felt disarmed, weak and out of control. He got close to you, his tall frame hovering over you, his hand gently grabbed your waist and you felt your body tense at his touch, his left hand started caressing you hair as his mouth got close to your ear.

“Do you know?” He began, his tone almost casual. “What would they do if they saw us together like this?”

Your body tensed, your eyes looked at the darkness of a corner. “They would condemn us both, dominus.”

His lips twisted in a bitter smile “Condemn me? No. They would whisper in the shadows plotting my downfall, but none would dare to challenge me. You however” He stepped closer, his hand now resting on your him. His voice dropping. “They would make an example of you. A lesson in obedience and the price of overstepping one’s station.”

You could feel your heart beat fast as if it were to come out of your chest but you couldn’t deny the adrenaline and desire you felt by having Geta so close to you. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong.

Your gaze met his, unwavering “You summoned me, dominus.”

For a moment, the air between you crackled with unspoken tension. Geta closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin upward. You looked at him, directly at his eyes, you could feel fear, desire, shame running through your body but you did not pull away.

“You bewitched me, y/n” he murmured. “And I hate you for it”

In the days that followed, Geta found himself creating reasons to pass through the eastern corridor where you worked. He told himself it was mere curiosity, the same way one might be drawn to examine an unusual butterfly before crushing it.

He watched how you moved among the other servants, quiet and gracefully. You weren’t like the other servants, who scurried away like frightened mice whenever he appeared.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the palace walls in shades of gold and crimson, Geta dismissed his guards and approached you alone.

“Come to my private gardens tonight” He commanded. “After the evening meal.”

It wasn’t a request and you knew it.

Later that evening, after you finished your meal, you walked rather slowly throughout the corridors of the palace. Your hands shaking and your heart racing. Although you felt fear deep in your bones, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up in your heart just by thinking of being alone with Geta, in this very moment as strange as it was, nothing else mattered to you.

The imperial gardens were Geta’s sanctuary, a place he could escape from his role as emperor. As he waited beneath a blooming cherry tree, he questioned his own sanity. He was emperor of Rome, descendant of gods, what was he doing, meeting a servant in secret like a lovesick boy?

When you appeared, in your plain tunic, messy hair from all the work you’ve done during the day, Geta forgot all his doubts, he saw you moving like a spirit through the moonlit garden, how dare you be so beautiful, so breathtaking?

“You came.” He said, surprised by the softness in his own voice.

“You commanded it, dominus.”

“Geta.” He corrected you. “Here in this garden, I am just Geta.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but then nodded. “As you wish…Geta.”

You talked through the night, and Geta discovered a mind as beautiful as your face. You spoke of your childhood in a small village, of your dreams of seeing the great library of Alexandria, of your love for poetry. You asked him questions no one had dared to ask before, about his thoughts, his hopes, his burdens.

For the first time in his life, Geta felt seen not as an emperor, but as a man.

Your secret meetings continued, and with each passing night, Geta felt the walls he had built around his heart crumbling. During the day, he maintained his fearsome reputation, perhaps becoming even more brutal to compensate for the softness he felt in private.

But in the gardens, with you, he was different. He learned to laugh again, to speak of things beyond power and conquest. He shared with you the weight of his position, the constant fear of betrayal, the loneliness of absolute power.

"Sometimes I wonder," he confessed one night, his head in your lap as you stroked his hair, "if I am becoming the monster they all believe me to be."

Your hand stilled. "We all choose who we become, Geta. Even emperors."

Your words haunted him, especially during the day when he sat upon his throne, passing judgment on those who had crossed him. But nothing could be changed, he knew it and that’s why he found such a beautiful freedom with you, freedom that to him borderlines with madness.

One night, you were walking through the corridors of the palace after Geta summoned you again in his chambers, as you walked in you saw him standing at the balcony looking at Rome. You made your way throughout the room towards a small table where his goblet was and you poured some wine. Geta turned and his gaze lingered on you, admiring the way your hair fell in loose waves, the gentle curve of your neck, the quiet strength in your posture. He found himself wanting more of this subtle beauty.

“Leave the wine.” He said finally. “I have other matters to discuss with you.” He waved a hand dismissively at the empty plates and cups. He walked toward you, his movements fluid and purposeful, he close the distance between you, until you stood mere inches apart.

His hand cupped gently your cheek and looked at you with adoringly eyes.

“Tell me, my love what is it that you desire?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as Geta’s touch ignited a fire within you.

“To be free.” You whispered, the words barely audible. “To be free to love you.”

Geta felt his heart filled with a warmth he had never felt before, he pulled you close to him, holding you tight in his strong arms as if you were to disappear in front of him.

“If this is a dream.” He murmured, almost to himself. “I pray the gods grant me the mercy of never waking.”

You closed your arms around tightly, feeling his warmth covering your body, your heart felt full, complete in his arms, you didn’t want to let go of him, ever.

“I have lived so long in the shadows of my own making, convinced that I was destined to walk this path alone. But you… you bring light to the darkest corners of my soul” He confessed.

You looked up at him and gently caressed his cheek, Geta closed his eyes at your touch.

“Geta my love, you are not alone, not anymore, you’ve got me, all of me, my love, my soul.”

“You’re too kind, too good.” He murmurs. “I don’t deserve your love, your compassion. But gods help me, I crave it like a starved man.”

His hands started gently caressing your arms, his right hand reached out to tilt your chin upward and then kissed you, his lips felt soft and warm. He kissed with such gentleness as if you were to break if he dared to kiss you harder.

His hand slipped beneath your tunic, fingers brushing against the smooth skin of your thigh, inching higher towards the heat of your core. You gasped as Geta's fingers grazed the edge of your undergarments, the intimate contact sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your legs trembled, threatening to give way, but he locked his arms around your waist, anchoring you to himself.

“What we’re doing is so wrong, so very wrong…” you said softly against his lips. “But gods above, Geta... I can't resist you. Not when you touch me like this, when your words make me feel like the most desirable woman in the empire."

Geta lifted you in his arms and laid you down on the bed, his fingers danced along the lace trim of your undergarments, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. He reveled in your conflicted responses, the way your body yielded to his, despite your feeble attempts at resistance.

“My dearest, you are the most beautiful creature in this world.” He said and kissed you again.

With a deft motion, he pushed your undergarments aside, exposing your slick, swollen folds to his probing fingers. A strangled moan escaped your lips as Geta's fingers delved into your dripping heat, stroking and curling inside you in a way that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your head fell back, exposing the column of your throat, as waves of pleasure crashed over you

He got closer to you and undressed you, your tunic fell on the floor and then he took down your subligacalum. He admired the beauty of your naked body, a true daughter of Venus.

Geta's eyes flashed with triumph and lust at you, your complete submission to him a heady aphrodisiac. With a swift movement, he shed his own garments, freeing his rigid manhood from the confines of his robe. He positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his member nudging your entrance.

“You shall have all of me, my sweet y/n.”

With a powerful surge, he drove into you, burying himself to the hilt of your tight, wet heat. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him, welcoming him home.

Your scream of pleasure was muffled by Geta's mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss as he filled you to the brim. The intense stretch and fullness sent shockwaves of delight through your quivering form, making your toes curl and your inner muscles flutter around his thick length. You whimpered against his lips, your nails raking down his back in fervent appreciation. You wrapped your long legs around his waist, locking your ankles to keep him buried inside you as he began to move. Each powerful thrust hit your sweet spot, sending sparks of euphoria racing up your spine.

Geta's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pounded into you with relentless intensity. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the chamber, punctuated by his ragged breathing and your high pitched moans.

Your climax came to you intensely, your body bowed off the bed, a keening wail tearing from your throat as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.Just as your tremors began to subside, Geta's own release barreled into him with the force of a storm. With a hoarse roar, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your spasming channel.

Geta collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest heaved against yours, your sweat slicked skin sticking together as he struggled to catch his breath.

“You are exquisite, my love.” He panted, nuzzling his face into the crook of you neck. “So perfect.”

He lifted his head to gaze at you, his usually cold, calculating eyes now soft with satisfaction and a hint of tender affection, he gently kissed your lips, your cheeks, your eyes, pouring all his love onto you.

Geta rolled onto his side, pulling you close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you against him.

As you two laid together, in the dim light of the oil lamps of the chamber, you couldn’t stop thinking about what would be of you two. You belonged to him completely now and the thought of letting him go was clouding your mind.

“My love…will they let us be?” You asked, as you grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I am emperor," he growled, pulling you closer. "I decide what can and cannot be."

And with those words you knew, there was nothing else to fear, if the gods had decided to bring you to him who were you to deny.

[willowsnook]

in love?

Could you write a leclerc’s brothers love triangle? charles x y/n x arthur? 🤭 from @dovesboccianoifiori

charles leclerc x reader x arthur leclerc

"Are you ready, mon chéri?" Arthur called out from your living room.

"Just about!" you replied, shoving the final things into your suitcase. The two of you were set to leave for Greece on a family vacation for the next week. Running through your mental checklist, you decided that you probably had everything. Lugging your suitcase out to the living room, Arthur smirked at you.

"Pack your whole closet, hmm?" he teased, and you huffed.

"You never know what we might need!"

He laughed and grabbed your suitcase from you, pressing his lips against yours in a quick kiss.

"I forgot to tell you, but Charles is actually coming now," Arthur said, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"I thought he had to be in London with Sarah?" you asked. Sarah was a well-known model who had been dating Charles for about six months now. You didn’t really care for her, finding her to be a bit of an airhead.

"They broke up," Arthur said, and you snorted.

"What reason this time?" you asked. Charles had a string of exes over the past couple of years, and all the relationships ended because of some weird nitpicking excuse he had come up with. One was because he didn’t like the perfume she wore, another had an old picture up on socials of her in a McLaren fit, and so on.

"She’s allergic to dogs," he mused, and you giggled.

In the two years you had been dating Arthur, you had never seen one of Charles’ relationships last longer than six months. It was like he was cursed. You had grown up with the Leclercs, so you knew him very well and never understood why he had such a hard time in relationships. From your perspective, he was quite the catch, and you always wondered how life could have been different if you were with him, though you’d never admit that to anyone.

Loving Arthur had always been easy. It was steady, warm, comforting—like slipping into a well-worn sweater on a cold day. He made you laugh, made you feel safe, made life simple. There was no second-guessing, no whirlwind of emotions that left you breathless.

But Charles—Charles was something else entirely. He was fire and chaos, tension so thick it stole the air from your lungs. With him, nothing was certain. He made you feel seen in a way that scared you, made you question everything you thought you knew about love. You hated how easily he got under your skin, how one look from him sent your pulse racing. And you despised the part of yourself that wanted to lean into that feeling instead of running from it. But you were with Arthur, so none of that mattered.

A half-day of traveling later, you arrived at the villa that the family had rented for the week, and it really was gorgeous. Arthur took your luggage upstairs while you headed to the patio, where everyone was hanging out.

"Y/N!" they cheered as you walked out, and you were enveloped in hugs. Charles stood off to the side, brooding, and you took the chance to chirp him.

"Hi, Charles, getting a dog soon?" you asked, and he rolled his eyes before pulling you into a hug.

"Ha ha, very funny, Y/N," he grumbled, and you beamed. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long, his frown quickly morphing into a soft smile.

As you pulled away from Charles' embrace, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. There was something different in his gaze, a spark you hadn't seen before. You brushed it off, attributing it to your imagination.

The evening progressed with laughter and chatter as the family caught up. You found yourself stealing glances at Charles throughout dinner, noticing how he seemed more relaxed than you'd seen him in years. Without Sarah or any other girlfriend around, he appeared lighter, more like the Charles you grew up with.

Arthur had his arm laid carelessly behind you, and after two glasses of wine, you found yourself nodding off into his shoulder.

"Ready for bed?" he whispered in your ear, and you nodded absentmindedly. Saying your goodnights, you followed him up the stairs and to the room you were sharing.

"Charles seems happy," you commented, and Arthur hummed in agreement.

"I’m just happy we don’t have to spend this vacation with Sarah," he admitted, and you giggled.

"What, you don’t want to spend your time having to explain every joke you make?" you asked in mock offense.

You squealed as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into the bed. Straddling him, you rested your hands on his chest, warmth spreading through your body.

As you gazed down at Arthur, his eyes sparkling with adoration, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Your mind kept drifting back to the way Charles had looked at you earlier. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the man beneath you.

"I love you," Arthur murmured, pulling you down for a kiss.

—-----------------------------------

The next morning, you woke early, the unfamiliar bed and jet lag disrupting your sleep. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Arthur. You made your way downstairs, planning to enjoy a quiet moment on the patio with a cup of coffee.

To your surprise, Charles was already there, nursing his own mug as he stared out at the view.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked softly, joining him at the railing.

He turned to you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not really, too much on my mind."

"I’m sorry to hear about you and Sarah," you said softly, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Don’t be," he said. "It was never serious."

"Seems like no one you date is ever serious," you commented.

He sighed, looking over the waves before speaking again.

"I feel like I’m just waiting to feel that fiery passion about someone, but it never happens," he admitted.

"Do you ever think that maybe love isn’t a fiery passion?" you countered, and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion. "When I think about the love Arthur and I have, it isn’t a fiery passion. It’s stability, it’s a warm embrace, it feels like home."

Charles didn’t say anything at your admission, just gave you a weird look.

"I’m not sure I agree that’s true love," he finally said before heading back inside.

You frowned at his comment. Of course, it was true love. You couldn’t imagine life without Arthur; he was your rock.

—--------------------------------------

Later that morning, Arthur stirred awake, reaching for you, only to find the bed empty. With a groggy sigh, he pulled himself up and ran a hand through his messy hair before heading downstairs, where he found you in the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

"Morning, mon amour," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

"Morning," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace. "I was just thinking we should go explore the town today. Just the two of us."

Arthur perked up at that, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "I like the sound of that. Let’s get ready and head out."

After a quick breakfast, the two of you set off, hand in hand, strolling through the charming cobblestone streets of the Greek town. The sun was warm, but the gentle sea breeze made it comfortable as you wandered past whitewashed buildings with bright blue doors, flower-covered balconies, and quaint little shops.

At a small market square, you stopped to admire the vibrant stalls selling fresh fruit, handmade jewelry, and local crafts. Arthur picked up a delicate bracelet, the beads painted in shades of blue and gold.

"This would look beautiful on you," he mused, gently slipping it onto your wrist.

You smiled, admiring the way it sat against your skin. "It’s perfect."

Before you could protest, Arthur handed the vendor a few bills, grinning. "A souvenir for our trip."

"You really didn't have to," you said, but he just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I'm your boyfriend; spoiling you is in my job description."

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't fight the warmth spreading in your chest.

Continuing your walk, you came across a cozy little café tucked in a corner of the town square. The scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air, and you tugged Arthur inside, settling at a small table with a view of the bustling street.

As you sipped on a cool iced coffee, Arthur reached across the table, brushing his fingers over yours absentmindedly. "You seemed distracted last night," he said softly, watching you closely.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you forced a smile. "Just tired from the trip."

Arthur studied you for a moment, as if deciding whether to believe you, but eventually, he let it go.

After finishing your drinks, you spent the rest of the afternoon exploring hidden alleyways, stopping to take pictures, and making each other laugh with inside jokes. Arthur never let go of your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin as you wandered.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town, you and Arthur found yourselves sitting on a stone ledge overlooking the sea.

"This has been the perfect day," you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder.

Arthur pressed a kiss to your hair. "Every day with you is perfect."

For a moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself drown in Arthur’s warmth, in the steady, familiar love he gave you.

But then your mind wandered back to the morning. To Charles. To the way he looked at you. To the way his words lingered in your mind, unsettling you in a way you couldn't quite explain.

And that’s when you realized—something had shifted.

When you got back to the villa, Arthur headed upstairs, saying that he was exhausted. Charles had seemed to just get back from dinner with some friends he knew in town and ran into you in the kitchen.

“Heading to bed?” he asked.

“I’d rather not, I’m not that tired,” you replied.

“Late-night beach walk then,” he suggested, and you found yourself nodding. He was your friend, and this was normal. You and Charles had done plenty of things alone before, this was no different.

The two of you set out, walking along the water and chatting about the day’s events. Lost in conversation, you missed a small hole a kid had dug into the sand and stumbled forward. Charles' arms shot out to grab you, safely pulling you into his chest.

As you stood there, pressed against Charles' chest, time seemed to slow. His arms were still wrapped around you, strong and secure. You could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of his cologne. Your heart began to race, and you found yourself unable to look away from his intense gaze.

"Are you alright?" Charles asked softly, his voice low and concerned.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You should step away, you knew that. But something kept you rooted to the spot, lost in the depths of Charles' eyes.

He made no move to let you go either. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist where he held you, sending a shiver down your spine. The air between you felt charged, electric with unspoken tension.

"Y/N," Charles murmured, his face inching closer to yours.

Your breath caught as you stood frozen, but Charles snapped out of whatever he was thinking, quickly letting go of you. The walk back was silent, but Charles stopped you before you turned toward the house.

“You are going to hurt him,” he said suddenly, and you turned to him, a confused look on your face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Arthur,” he said, clearing his throat. “You don’t love him, not really.”

“Is this because of our conversation earlier?” you asked, irritation filling your voice. “I love your brother, nothing is going to change that.”

“Of course, you love him,” Charles said. “You love him as much as you love Lorenzo and Pascale, but you aren’t in love with him.”

You flinched back like you’d been slapped. “How dare you? You don’t know anything.”

He scoffed, looking up at the house. “I’ve watched you these past couple of months. I notice how you are toward him, and honestly, how he is toward you. You treat each other as if you’re just best friends who stumbled into a relationship.”

“We are best friends,” you seethed. “What the fuck are you talking about, Charles? Watching me? Like you have been this whole trip? You don’t think I noticed? What, so I can be your next six-month conquest? Someone you can collect?”

His jaw clenched at your words as he took another step toward you.

Charles' eyes darkened, his expression shifting into something unreadable. His voice, when he finally spoke, was laced with frustration.

"Is that what you think of me?" he bit out. "That I'm some selfish asshole who just goes through women for fun?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "I don't have to think it, Charles. Your track record speaks for itself."

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue—but then, something in him snapped.

"You know what? Maybe I do go through relationships too fast. Maybe I haven't found the right person yet. But at least I’m not lying to myself about being in love when I'm not."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Screw you, Charles."

He leaned in, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "You don't get it, do you? One day, you're going to wake up and realize that Arthur was just the safe choice. The easy choice. And by then, it'll be too late."

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flared through your body—not from attraction, but from sheer, unbridled rage. Before you even processed what you were doing, your hand flew up and cracked across his cheek.

The sharp sound of the slap echoed between you. Charles’ head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening as his skin flushed red where your palm had connected.

A heavy silence fell. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared at him, your hand still tingling.

He turned back to you slowly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, his expression unreadable.

"You done?" he murmured, voice rough.

Your fingers trembled at your sides, anger and something dangerously close to regret warring inside you.

"Go to hell, Charles," you spat before storming past him, heading toward the house.

You didn't look back.

But you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

—---------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Arthur asked you, worried. You had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole morning.

“Yeah, just sad we’re leaving,” you lied, forcing a small smile on your face. Last night felt like an open wound, and the faster you could get out of here, the better. Following Arthur downstairs with your stuff, you joined the family in saying goodbye to one another as everyone departed back home. When Charles didn’t say goodbye to Arthur, just motioned for him to load his bags in, a sense of dread overcame you.

Since you all lived in Monaco, naturally, you’d be taking Charles’ private jet back.

Arthur chatted about the trip the whole way to the airport, getting minimal responses from both you and Charles, but he didn’t seem to notice. As you boarded, Arthur sat across from his brother, and you moved past the two, choosing to sit at the front of the plane.

“Mon chéri?” Arthur called out. “Why are you sitting over there?”

You gave him a fake smile, “I want to read my book, and your talking will distract me.”

You tried to sound teasing but knew you fell flat. Arthur looked at his brother, but Charles refused to meet his eyes, looking out the window instead. True to your word, you spent the rest of the flight reading and were relieved when you landed.

Arthur said goodbye to Charles, and you prepared to play pretend, but Charles looked at you for three seconds before turning and getting into his car without a word. You stared after him, hurt written all over your features, which didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. He didn’t say anything, but it gave him something to think about.

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

The next couple of weeks were weird. You and Arthur fell back into your normal routine and social calendar, but it felt like there was a new distance between you. You noticed yourself pulling away from him a little bit, and his nonchalance about it threatened to confirm what Charles had said.

It was Friday night, and the two of you had just gotten back from dinner with your friends, Arthur following you to your apartment.

“Have a drink with me on the balcony?” he asked, almost nervously.

“Sure,” you replied, going to grab two wine glasses from the cabinets and filling them with a new bottle you had just bought. You met him outside, and he was quiet, contemplative, as he gazed out at the skyline. You handed Arthur his glass and took a sip of your own, leaning against the railing beside him. The night was warm, a soft breeze brushing against your skin, but the weight in your chest made it hard to enjoy. Arthur was never this quiet.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was careful, measured, like he was picking his words delicately. “About us.”

Your fingers tightened around the stem of your glass. You knew this was coming. You had felt it in the way his touch had grown less frequent, in the way your conversations had started to feel like those of two friends catching up rather than lovers sharing their lives.

“Yeah?” you prompted, keeping your voice steady.

He turned to look at you, his brown eyes filled with something like fondness—soft, but resolute. “I think we both know this isn’t working the way it should.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way you expected. There was no sharp pain, no suffocating grief. Just a slow, aching realization that he was right.

You swallowed, setting your glass down on the small table beside you. “Arthur, I—”

“You don’t have to say it,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve known for a while now.” He exhaled, shaking his head with a small, wistful smile. “You know when I knew for sure?”

You stayed silent, waiting.

“That day we got back. When Charles walked away from you without saying goodbye.” His voice was steady, but there was something sad in his expression. “I saw the way you looked at him, like he had just taken the air right out of your lungs.” He gave a small, dry chuckle. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to protest, to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because he was right.

“Arthur, I love you,” you said, and you meant it. Just not in the way you were supposed to.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I love you too. But not the way we should.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they weren’t from heartbreak. They were from the quiet, bittersweet truth settling between you.

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re my best friend. And I don’t want to lose that.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears. “Me neither.”

Arthur smiled then, small but sincere. “Then let’s not.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, sipping your wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The transition from dating back to friends was so simple that it was confirmation that it was the right thing. You still hung out with Arthur and your other friends weekly, but it felt easier, like you weren’t pretending any longer. You knew Arthur had told Charles, and he had tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. Your fight in Greece was still fresh on your mind. With the F1 season in full swing, you never saw him at family dinners either, which was okay with you.

You took the month after the breakup to fall back in love with yourself, picking up new hobbies and going on weekend trips alone or with other friends. That one month turned to a few, and it wasn’t until after the season was over that you saw Charles again.

The Leclercs had invited your family to their annual holiday party, and this time for sure you knew he was going to be there.

“Are you nervous?” Arthur asked, scrolling through his phone, lounging on your bed while you got ready.

“Why would I be nervous?” you asked, not even bothering to look away from the mirror. You could feel his eyes roll.

“First time seeing Charles since Greece,” he commented.

“Shouldn’t this be weird for you?” you questioned. “We dated for two years, or have you already forgotten?”

“I try to forget,” he shot back with a cheeky smile. You huffed, but a smile broke through on your face as you laid against him on your bed.

“I want you to be happy,” he said softly.

“I am happy,” you insisted. “Your brother is a pain in my ass.”

“He has a right to be. I kept him away from you for two years.”

“You were exactly who I needed to be with during that time,” you said honestly. He pressed his lips against your forehead in response before pulling you off the bed.

“Time to see if you were worth the wait,” he smirked, and you shoved him into the wall, ignoring his complaints.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived, and Arthur immediately peeled off, looking for Lorenzo. You greeted your family, chatting with your parents for a bit before you saw him.

Charles stood across the room, laughing with a group of friends. He looked devastatingly handsome in a dark suit, his hair perfectly styled. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes met yours over the crowd. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you held each other's gaze.

Then he was moving toward you, excusing himself from his group. You felt rooted to the spot, unable to look away as he approached.

"Y/N," he said softly when he reached you. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Can we talk? Somewhere private?"

You nodded, following him as he led you out to a secluded patio. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the warmth of the party inside.

“You came with Arthur?” he said, almost like a question, and you nodded.

“He’s still my best friend, Charles,” you said, amused.

Charles nodded, a hint of relief visible in his eyes. "I'm glad. I was worried things might be awkward between you two."

"It was at first," you admitted. "But we realized our friendship was too important to lose."

He took a step closer to you, his voice softening. "And what about us? Is our friendship too important to lose?"

You felt your heart rate quicken at his proximity. "I don't know, Charles. You said some pretty hurtful things in Greece."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry. I was frustrated and jealous, and I lashed out. But I meant what I said about you and Arthur not being right for each other."

"You were right," you conceded quietly. "But that doesn't mean there's anything between us."

Charles' eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He reached his hand up to your face, brushing his fingers along your cheek as he cupped your jaw. Your breath hitched at his touch, and you felt yourself subconsciously melt into him.

“Now tell me, mi amor,” he whispered. “That there isn’t anything between us.”

“Th-there isn’t anything between us,” you stuttered out, and he grinned, knowing he had you. His hand moved to the back of your head with a tighter grip, and he brought his face down, his nose almost touching yours.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, lips lightly brushing against yours.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest as Charles' lips hovered just millimeters from yours. The tension between you was electric, crackling in the air like static. You knew you should pull away, but every fiber of your being was screaming for you to close that final gap.

"Charles," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a vulnerability there too—a question.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't feel this too, and I'll walk away right now."

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. How could you deny what was so glaringly obvious? The electricity between you, the way your body responded to his touch, the longing that had been building for years—it was all laid bare in this moment.

Instead of speaking, you found yourself leaning in, closing that last sliver of space between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was both soft and urgent. Charles responded immediately, one hand cupping your face while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss deepened, years of pent-up passion pouring out. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue swept into your mouth, igniting a fire that spread through your entire body. You gasped against his lips, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Charles rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

“This doesn’t mean anything is changing right now,” you said once you caught your breath. “I’ve just learned how to be independent again. I don’t want to lose it.”

“That’s fine, mon chéri,” he said genuinely. “I’ve waited a long time for you. What’s a little longer?”

He led you back inside, his hand glued to the small of your back as you rejoined Arthur, who was talking to Lorenzo. Arthur gave you an “I told you so” smirk while Lorenzo’s eyes widened at Charles' hand.

“Damn, when do I get my turn with you?” he joked, and Charles glared at him while you and Arthur laughed.

“Never,” Charles said.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Unlike Anyone Else – Glen Powell

Masterlist

Glen walked into the coffee shop, hiding his cringe behind a smile when people started noticing him. He walked up to the counter and ordered his coffee from a very excited barista. This has been happening a lot more since his role in Top Gun: Maverick. It got even crazier after Twisters.

As he waited for his coffee, he stood off to the side, using his phone to avoid making eye contact with anyone. When his name was called, he walked up and grabbed his coffee. He turned around but pumped into someone.

"I am so sorry," Glen panicked. "Did I get any on you?"

"Don't worry about it," the young woman shrugged. He looked up at her, instantly noticing how beautiful she was.

"I didn't spill my coffee on you?" He double-checked.

"I'm all good," she chuckled.

"Coffee for Y/N!"

"Excuse me," the woman smiled. Glen was slightly shocked as she walked past him and got her drink. He expected her to walk back over and talk to him, but she sat down at a table in the corner. He couldn't help but watch her pull out her laptop from her bag. She took a drink of her coffee and over the cup, noticed Glen was still watching her.

She sent him a wink before going back to work. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him debating something. She hid her smirk behind her coffee when he made up his mind and walked over to her.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," she smiled as she sat back. "But can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he shrugged as he sat across from her. 

"You always stare at a woman after almost spilling your coffee down her shirt?"

"Only the special few," Glen winked at her.

"Last time I checked, there weren't twisters in LA," she smirked.

Glen chuckled awkwardly as he ran his fingers through my hair. "You know," he sighed, "for a second there, I thought you didn't recognize me."

"Please," Y/N laughed, "the second you walked in, everyone recognized you. I doubt you can go anywhere without being noticed."

"That is true," he sighed. Y/N studied him.

"You okay, Hollywood?"

"I'm fine," he laughed a little too forcefully.

"It's okay not to be," Y/N shrugged as she took another sip of her coffee. "After a rough day at work, I got to the nearby bar and drink and drink and drink. If it's a really bad day, I go home with a sexy stranger."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," Glen chuckled. "What do you do for work?"

"I'm a lawyer," she explained, "currently working toward partner."

"That's awesome. You close?"

"Hell yeah," Y/N laughed. "I basically do everything in the office. Not only do I handle my cases, but my coworkers always seem to need my help."

"Damn," Glen smirked. He looked down at her empty coffee cup and had an idea of how to keep her here. "You got time for another coffee or do you need to rush back to work before the firm falls apart?"

"I've got some time," she shrugged. "If you're buying."

"I'll be right back," Glen winked. He stood up and ordered another coffee for her. As he waited at the counter, he looked over his shoulder and watched Y/N answer her phone. He watched as her whole demeanor changed as she spoke to whoever was on the other side of that phone call.

She hung up as he walked over. "Everything okay?" He asked, suddenly worried she might have to leave.

"Everything is fine," she sighed, not sounding convincing. "Just morons at my office that don't know how to staple paper, let alone talk to a client." She looked up, her face slightly reddening when she saw him staring at her. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice lightening up. "Work is just. . . a lot."

"Sounds like you need something stronger than a cappuccino," he tried to tease.

"That's for sure," she mumbled. "Then again, it's not even 10 o'clock. But I will definitely be making a stop at a bar after work."

* * * * *

They spent the morning, talking about their jobs and their lives. The entire time, Glen couldn't believe that this amazing girl didn't care who he was. Not once did she treat him like a famous actor.

Y/N sighed when her phone rang for the third time. "I'm sorry," she sighed before answering her phone. "What now, Caleb?"

Glen sat back and watched as her facial expression changed. "We have gone over this so many times," she sighed. "The case files are not. . . Yes, the client. . . You know something Caleb, I'm getting awfully tired of doing my job and the job of my assistant."

She hung up and her eyes softened when she looked at him. "I should really go. I'm half-expecting my office to be on fire when I get there."

"Well," Glen sighed as the two stood up, "if your office is on fire, call me."

"And what are you going to do about it, Mr. Hollywood?" She smirked.

"Run into the building and save you," he said like it should've been obvious.

"Can't have you doing that," she chuckled. She reached up and patted his face, as she added, "This pretty face is your job. Can't risk anything happening to it."

* * * * *

Glen tried to go about his day, but his mind was constantly on the woman he met at the coffee shop this morning.

"What's with you?" His manager, Andrew, asked when he walked into the hair and makeup trailer and saw Glen staring absentmindedly at his phone.

"Nothing," Glen stuttered. "Just. . . distracted."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Only a woman can make a man. . . distracted," Andrew laughed. "Who is she? Coworker? Neighbor? Friend?"

"Nothing like that," Glen sighed as he put his phone down. "Just a random girl I met at my coffee shop this morning."

"Wow," Andrew chuckled as he sat next to him. "What's her name?"

"Y/N."

"By the look on your face and the way you smiled when you said her name, something tells me you actually talked to her."

"I did," Glen chuckled. "We talked for over an hour, but her work pulled her away."

"What does she do for work?"

"She's a lawyer."

Andrew studied Glen as Glen thought about Y/N. "Did you ask her out?" Andrew asked.

"No," Glen sighed.

"Did you get her number?"

"No," Glen said, clearing his throat.

"Do you know what law firm she works at?"

"No," he said, looking down at his phone. "All I know is her name is Y/N, she is a lawyer, and she likes to go to the bar close to the coffee shop."

"There you go," Andrew shrugged.

"What?"

"You know where she's going to be, right?"

"Well, yeah. I do, but. . .Oh."

After work, Glen headed to the bar. The second he walked in, he searched for Y/N. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her sitting alone at the bar.

"Fancy meeting you here," Glen chuckled as he sat at the bar next to Y/N.

"Really?" She smirked. "You just happened to show up at the bar I was telling you about this morning?"

"I always come here."

"Mmhmm," she rolled her eyes as she took a drink.

"Can I buy you a round?"

"How about more than just one?"

* * * * *

The next morning, Glen woke up to an empty bed. He ignored the feeling of disappointment when he realized Y/N was gone. He spent the entire morning, slowly getting ready for the day.

As he drove to the set, his thoughts were only on Y/N.

He thought about the coffee shop. He thought about the bar. He thought about the night they spent together. He thought about the feeling he got when he looked down and saw her asleep on his chest.

He hated himself for not getting her number. He hated himself for letting her leave without kissing her goodbye. He hated himself for not asking her out on a proper date.

He vowed to do whatever it takes to find her.

Part 2

[pyschosoda]

Decided

Aegon ii targaryen x reader(kinda)

in which you and aegon come to an agreement

a/n: I swear I was going to write a completely different fic for someone else but i got the urge to write for aegon so take this short thingy i plucked from my brain before i start working on some requests ^-^ (also this is my first time using my own gifs i hope they work…)

- divider by @thecutestgrotto -

The sound of tapping echos through the bare summer halls of the Red Keep.

tap…tap…tap

She was sure the meeting would end soon. 

tap…tap…tap

The guards wouldn't let her pass, having been told by the king of all people that she wasn’t allowed in.

tap…tap…tap

The tapping of her foot never seizing as she stood there, arms crossed, waiting for the doors to open. She knew the meeting would end soon; Aegon never could sit through an entire meeting. 

Finally, the door does open, and the men on the king's council began to leave. 

She wasted no time stomping her way from the humid halls into yet another humid room in the red keep; if it wasn’t so hot, she would think it was her anger making her hair frizz and scrunch up. She had spent hours this morning doing her hair, straightening it to the best of her ability, then pinning it back. 

But no matter how hard she tried, the heat in King’s Landing always seemed to win this imaginary war, ruining her early morning efforts. but that never stopped her from putting an effort in, hoping one day she’ll finally win this battle. 

Of course she had grown up with servants who did all this for her, but the ones she had here in King’s Landing always seemed to jerk and pull too hard for her tender head, so she decided that she’d do it herself rather than endure their harsh tugging, even if she didn’t know what she was doing. 

“Leave us,” her order echoed in the room, the remaining men in the court scurrying off like the rats they were. 

“Ah, My love, I was beginning to wonder when you might show up.”

She ignored his comment.

“Why is it that I must find out from the guards that I am no longer to attend the meetings? Couldn't even have the decency to tell me yourself,” she scoffs, the echoes of her heels bouncing off the walls as she moves to pour herself a glass of wine.

“I have no need of you,” he simply says, his face scrunching downwards as he shrugs.

“You have no need of me?” She repeats, her tone just as sharp as her gaze as she glances at his sitting figure. 

He must’ve realized his mistake because he rephrased his sentence. 

“In this room? Yes, I have no need of you.”

“Aegon,” she lets out an irritated sigh. “I am on your side,” her voice as gentle as the steps she took towards the table, occupying one of the empty chairs near him. 

The chair she usually sat in. 

“Is that why you run off plotting things behind my back?” Aegon’s accusing words make her roll her eyes, leaning back in her seat as she drinks from the chalice. 

“I wasn’t…” She held her tongue, watching him roll the marble ball in place. “I am trying to help you, Aegon.” 

“You’re helping?” His gaze flicks up to meet hers, grinning as though she had told a joke. “I have no need of your help.”

Truth be told, Aegon had no idea what he was doing; he didn’t know how to be a king. How could anyone possibly know how to be a king?

Of course he had the men on his council, his brother, and perhaps even his own mother to help him, but no one truly thought he could handle being king; he was sure they thought him too stupid, too incompetent to sit upon the throne. 

He wanted to prove them wrong, show that he could be king, and show that he could come up with his own solutions for his kingdom. 

He decided he’d show them he could be the king the people deserved, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

“I have plenty of others in my court offering the same help; I have yet to find any of it useful,” he mumbles lazily, his eyes glued to the rolling marble. 

“Oh please,” She rolls her eyes, looking as though she was biting back a laugh. 

“You need the people to like you, Aegon,” She was referring to the smallfolk. He knew that she was right, but that didn’t stop the anger bubbling up within him.

“They will not just do so because you wear a crown and call yourself the king.”

She goes on to explain her plan, but the more she talks, the more restless Aegon gets, and the more his anger boils until it eventually overflows. 

“I am the king!” He stands up suddenly, the marble ball gripped in his hand as if he were scared someone would take it from him.

“Not you!” 

She felt no amusement in his reaction, not like she usually did when she tried to get him riled up. Instead she just felt annoyed.

Annoyed that he interrupted her, annoyed with his outburst, annoyed he was yelling at her of all people.

She assumed he was waiting for a response; she gave him none, knowing better than to entertain his tantrums. She decided the chalice in her hand was more important. 

He continues. 

“I do not need you speaking for me! Or making plans on my behalf! I am not a fucking child!”

There was silence for a moment; the only sound in the room was Aegon’s heavy breathing. 

"Are you done?" She hums, gently swirling the wine in her cup, watching the red liquid move within it. 

Aegon didn't speak for a moment, still winded from his outburst. his eyes glued to her unbothered figure, she couldn’t even give him the courtesy of looking him in the eyes, much less look in his direction. 

“…yes.." He clears his throat, sliding the marble ball back into it’s spot as he places himself back in his seat, moving his hair from his face. 

"And do you feel better after that?" She finally moves her eyes to look at him.

“Yes,” he repeats, placing his elbows on the table as he presses his clasped hands against his forehead. 

“Good,” she pushes her chalice of wine towards him, to which he drags his hands down his face, meeting her gaze before taking the cup. 

“Now, as I was discussing before your…” There was a pause. “Outburst...” She taps her nails against the table. 

The silence had returned again, Aegon’s fingers tapping against the neck of his cup in sync with her own tapping. His thoughts move within his head as he considers her words. He then gives her a slight nod, bringing the chalice to his lips.

“‘tis a good plan,” he decided.

[norizzsainz]

🌶️ NFY : GRAND PRIX WINS AND EXPOSÉS

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ]

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

previous | masterlist | next

━━━━━━━ MARCH 24, 2024 : MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

“i’d just like to point out and say that i didn't have a say in attending this party tonight.”

you grumbled under your breath as everyone took their seats in the private lounge of the club.

“i didn't either.” oscar muttered from behind you, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. “can't even make a damn decision in my hometown, jeez.”

“osc, baby, hush.” lando was buzzing with excitement already, giggling as he looked at his teammate. “for you, i shall play the best house music there is.”

oscar blinked softly, looking over at his girlfriend, lily, who gave him a sheepish smile of encouragement. “yeah, that's what i was fearing.” he quipped, his voice barely audible.

the entire group turned towards the entrance when the other partygoers hooted and cheered, joining along as the ferrari boys made their entrance.

your gaze landed on carlos, hating how he still never failed to take your breath away even when he wore a simple shirt and jeans. gods, he was a beautiful man.

“earth to y/n.” you snapped out of your daze when max called out to you, a knowing smirk on his face. “you there?”

“oh, shut up.” you muttered in embarrassment, trying to direct your attention to something else.

but alas, the universe had different plans.

even when everyone was crowding to congratulate carlos on his win, he seemed to forget everything as soon as his eyes landed on you.

he quickly excused himself, his entire surroundings fading into black as he quickly made his way towards you.

“hey.” carlos greeted you softly as he stood in front of you, barely sparing a glance to anyone else. “you came.”

“you didn't really give me a choice.” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you were feeling very chalant. “congratulations on the win, by the way, smooth operator.”

carlos' smile brightened as he heard the teasing nickname, relieved to see you were feeling somewhat comfortable in his presence unlike the other times.

he hoped things would work in his favor tonight.

as the party was teeming in full blast, carlos did his best to give you your space, but he couldn't help but be drawn towards you throughout the night.

it was always him scooting closer to you, looking like he was going to talk to you before he moved away, chickening out at the last second.

even max and yuki, who were drunk off their asses, noticed carlos' pattern, wondering what he was up to.

unable to watch the pathetic scene any longer, charles shoved carlos in your direction, giving him a look that clearly said, ‘get on with it already, you coward.’

“uh, hi again.”

carlos wasn't sure why he was a nervous mess. he was usually very confident and charming, but now as he stood before you, he was nothing but a muddle of nerves.

“carlos.” you greeted him, raising your voice slightly so he could hear you over the club music. “hi again.”

“y/n.” he spoke up, reaching out to hold your arm as if he were afraid you’d walk away from him. for the second time. “look, about what you said the last time we spoke...”

you immediately shook your head, not wanting to go down that lane. “carlos, we don’t have to talk about it. i just want to forget about it all and—”

carlos’ grip on your arm tightened, stopping you from speaking. “amor. you are doing that conflict resolution thing again. don’t do that. all i wanted to say was that i’m gonna keep my promise and i will—”

before carlos could continue any further, everyone’s attention darted to lando as he let out an unidentifiable sound, some hybrid mix between a laugh and a scream.

“oh, my fucking goodness!” lando laughed in disbelief as he stared at his phone, his eyes widening in shock as the realization settled in. “carlitos! what the fuck?!”

kika and kelly stood behind him, reading the contents of his phone over his shoulders. their eyes widened in sync, lips parting in surprise.

“guys. sky sports gossip posted.” kika stated, causing everyone to reach for their phones. “you have to check it out.”

you looked from lando to carlos, wondering what your ex-boyfriend had done to land up on the sky sports gossip page and get such a reaction from the others.

your jaw was pretty much on the floor as soon as you finished reading the article and the comments it had received, your eyes widening in surprise. you skimmed through the apology post, your heart skipping several beats as you realized that carlos was the one who was behind everything.

everyone was just as shocked by the revelations, even the drunken pair, max and yuki, sobering up after seeing the articles and the aftermath of it all.

“carlos…” you couldn’t even find the words as carlos just smiled at you softly, tilting his head as if to say, ‘i told you so’. “you are absolutely insane, you know that?”

“insane is a bit too harsh, no?” he chuckled in amusement, his eyes crinkling as his smile widened.

“i promised, didn't i, carina? that i’d make it right. and i hope i did.”

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[miley1442111]

Reader x Rafe. They have only been on a few dates. They do not have a claim on each other. Rafe’s cousing is visting for the weekend, unknown to her, and is a really pretty girl. Rafe posts a photo of her on his story on instagram, having dinner. Reader assumes the worst, that he is keeping his options open and dating others, and it makes her really sad when she only had eyes for him. She is aware that that they have not had a talk about dating others, and she does not have the ’’right’’ to be so sad but still is, wanting him to just feel like her, liking her so much that he does not want to see anyone else. Rafe at some point later after his family/cousin dinner is done, he texts reader at night, asking if she wants to talk on the phone ’missing her voice’ but she just scoffs sadly to herself reading it, now thinking he is just a bit of a pig, thinking she truly meant nothing to him for him to be so casual about it. Unknown to her, Rafe feels exactly the same as her, not wanting anyone but her and is walking in circles at home in panic talking to himself, wondering what he has done. He does not want to be to pushy as they have just started dating so he does not harass her with texts. A few days go by and he sees her at the bonfire with her friends, kind of approaches her like he approached Kie, very gentle and soft. She tries to just keep it short, answering his questions being polite and goes to leave after getting her drink but he is like ’’wow wow wow, wait. You’re not answering my calls. I feel like I’ve done something to upset you and it’s killing me’ and she kind of brings up the girl, not in an accusing way, more so like ’’I get it. You wanna keep your options open. I’m just not comfortable with that because I like you a lot. We had a good run but I guess that is it. Take care of yourself’’ with a sad smile but then he stops her from walking away and clears up the misunderstanding and its a sweet ending

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

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my promise- r.cameron

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! sorry to everyone, i've been struggling a lot with writer's block and with college starting up everything has been super busy but I should be back on a fairly regular basis now :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! pogue! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: rafe is a bit of a dick without realising, reader is upset, pogues hate rafe, i think that's it?

+ this rafe is not show-accurate, this is another universe where he can express emotions and recognise how his action affect others :)

not entirely proofread

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

Rafe Cameron was a pig. Three months of talking, and he finally asked you out. And now he was on a date with someone else. 

But what else were you expecting from the ‘Kook king’? Your friends were right. You shouldn’t have even bothered with Rafe. He would always be a fucking man-whore with too much money and too little empathy. Of course you were a game to him, what else would you be? You were a pogue. You were nothing in his eyes, just a fuck. You weren’t even his real girlfriend. He had no claim on you, and you had no claim on him. 

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

You would’ve genuinely stabbed yourself in the eye if it meant you got to stop watching them interact. Rafe and that blonde girl. You’d never seen her on the island, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t from here. Random people spent summers here every year, a lot of people rented out their houses, especially the rich ones, just so someone would be in their mansions while they were busy in Bali, or the Hamptons, or wherever rich assholes went on holidays. 

She laughed at something he said and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not even fucking funny,” you scoffed. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but-”

“Yeah yeah, you told me, I know,” you sighed. “Thought I could make a kook act like a human, that’s on me,” you held your arms up in defence. You two stood side by side as you shone the cutlery. Serving at the Country Club wasn’t bad, and the tips were good. It’s just you didn’t expect to see him on a date with someone else. 

You got off of work at 8pm, Rafe and the blonde girl were still busy chatting when you left. Jj gave you a lift on his bike and you decided to grab all of Rafe’s things and leave them on his doorstep, not even bothering to explain. You knew what you saw. You knew what he was doing. You didn’t care anymore, you were worth more than that. 

At about 2am you woke up to your phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

Your groggy voice made Rafe smile. It had been a long night of entertaining his annoying beauty-queen cousin, and he wanted to talk to you, to see you. “Hey baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hi Rafe.”

“How was your day?” he asked. 

“Fine,” your answers were short and to the point. You had no interest in entertaining this anymore. “Yours?”

“Boring as fuck,” he chuckled. 

“What did you do today?” you asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of you. You wanted to see if he’d admit it. 

“Nothing much, worked out, golf, went to dinner with family, that’s it.” 

Of course he was lying. And using his family as a cover? Asshole. 

“Why did you call me?” you questioned, trying to act interested, but failing miserably. 

“I missed your voice,” he admitted shyly. 

“Ok, you heard it, night Rafe,” you sighed before hanging up. A part of you was angry. Another was just upset. How could he see other people? You two had a really good thing going, didn’t you? You thought he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. How wrong you were. It just reminded you of why you were so apprehensive to date him in the first place, to date anyone in the first place. Maybe you weren’t enough for him. Maybe you weren’t enough at all. 

You let yourself try to sleep it off, but the next few days you were down, and everyone could tell. Jj had told the others what had happened, and you could see the pitying glances from Kie and the boys, and the annoyed looks from Sarah. She hated him, genuinely, but this was the last straw. She’d told him not to break your heart. She’d warned him. 

“What about the bonfire tonight?” John B offered to the group as the sunset. “That would cheer you up,” he nudged your arm and you grimaced. 

“I don’t feel like going out,” you sighed. “You guys go ahead.”

Sarah sighed. “You can’t let this ruin your week Y/n. He’s a dick, he’ll always be a dick, and it wasn’t your fault for liking him. Every single one of my friends as a kid liked him, then he showed his true colours and he’s a dick again. His behaviour is not a benchmark for your value. He’s in the wrong, not you. Come out with us tonight, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, giving in. “Fine.”

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

You hadn’t texted him back in three days. He didn’t want to be the pushy ‘be with me all the time’  boyfriend, but he was used to texting you at least once a day. Now you’d left him without a response for 3 whole days. Thinking back, he knew you were being weird during the phone call the other night, and he couldn’t understand what he’d done. Were you losing interest? He hoped you weren’t. You were the only girl who he’d ever been really serious about.  You were the only girl he’d ever felt a real connection with. You were his girl, at least, you would be. 

He pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, find you.

You pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, hide from Rafe. 

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

Hiding didn’t exactly last long, especially when he was directly following you around the entire beach. If you went towards the water, he’d come near you, if you went towards the house, he’d come near you, if you went up to the fire, there he just so happened to be, roasting a marshmallow with a big smile on his face. You did notice how he wasn’t carrying around his signature corona, nor was his nose full of white powder. Huh. He’d listened when you said you didn’t like him being ‘uncontrolled’ as you called it, yet he went on a date with another girl. Strange.

You sat away from your friends, by the water, nursing a can of beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker and you’d probably go home after this, since you’d already been at the party for a little while. You watched the sea come in and out. Wave after wave, softly brushing against the shore. 

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice brought you out of your trance. He sat down beside you, dirtying whatever expensive shorts he had on.��

“Hey,” you answered.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone not missing the awkwardness of this moment. He was nervous before coming up to you, but now? Having to come face to face with your cold tone was becoming unbearable pretty quickly. 

“Fine thanks, how are you?” You asked, continuing your staring at the sea. 

“Good. Better, now,” he smiled, placing a hand over yours. “You forgot to text me back.”

“Did I?” you didn’t even try to make yourself sound sincere. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You been busy? How’s work?” 

“It’s fine,” you answered. After a moment of silence, you got up. “I’m going to get another beer-”

“Wait,” he jumped up beside you. “You’re not answering my calls. You’re not talking to me normally. You’re not answering my questions. Have I done something to upset you?”

You scoffed. “I wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean Y/n? You’re killing me here.”

“Look, I get it you want to keep your options open and we were just casual, it’s fine. I’m just not the kind of girl to just be casual with, alright? That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I really liked you. But if you want to go and do that, that’s fine, just don’t bring me into it,” you explained calmly. “Goodbye Rafe.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” he called after you, making you turn back. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at the Country Club with the blonde girl, Rafe, seriously, your dating life is your own- what?” You stopped talking because Rafe had started pulling a disgusted face. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my cousin,” he explained. “My super annoying cousin.”

And everything made a bit more sense. The family comment wasn’t a lie. Now that you think about it, they did look pretty similar.

“Oh.”

“You thought we were on a date?” 

“Well it was candle-lit,” you chuckled.

“All the tables at the club are candle-lit past 8pm!” He laughed. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well, we haven’t technically said we were dating so… I just assumed you were keeping your options open,” you shrugged. 

Rafe cracked a smile. “You think I’d pick anyone over you?”

You shrugged. “People do.”

“People are fucking stupid,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two walked further down the beach. “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honours of officially being your boyfriend?” 

“Only if you do me the honours of being your girlfriend,” you smiled.  He turned to you and cupped your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “I’m all yours, promise.”

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

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[kaisfruit]

Do you hate me? | Sam SDV x farmer!reader

A/N: haiii im back ^-^ i literally hate this, but im posting it anyways <3 warnings: possibly ooc Sam, smut, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, doggy style, no gendered terms used, AFAB genitalia, Y/N used, maybe more but i cant think of them words: 2k

Life on the farm was tough. Everyday it seemed as if you were working yourself down to the bone in order to just get the bare necessities. Sometimes, it was enough for you to wonder if it was even worth moving out here and taking up work on your grandpa’s farm.

But other times, you were reminded of why it was worth it. A good pay after a day’s worth of busting your ass fishing, a nice yield of crops, and most of all, helping the townspeople and getting to know them. That last one had to be the ultimate highlight. The smile on Maru’s face when you found the right ore for her latest invention, or the genuine side of Haley you got to see when presenting her with a blackberry to take her next picture to the next level. It was things like that that kept you working hard and making the most of your days. 

Though, there was one villager that you always seemed to avoid: Sam. Sure, if he had a request on the bulletin board then you’d fulfill it, obviously, but your conversations were kept brief and you knew he was starting to notice. “Avoid” may be a strong word, but that’s how he was bound to see it. You’d hand him a pizza without looking him in the eye and when he showed his gratitude your face would flush and you’d quickly scamper off. And it’s not like you went out of your way to give anyone else special gifts. Sure, if you came across a piece of driftwood you’d offer it to Leah or if you happened to find some amethyst in the mine you’d give it to Abigail, but otherwise you would just chat to the other villagers and show your kindness through other means. 

“Hey, Y/N, got a minute?” A voice rang through your ears and you jumped a bit from where you were watering your pumpkins. Without turning around, you replied. “Yeah sure what’s up-” You replied casually until you realized who it was that came to speak with you. Instantly, you felt your palms become sweaty and your heart began racing in your chest. Your watering can fell to the ground and instantly began drowning your crops. “Shit,” you murmured, quickly dropping down to pick it up. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Sam spoke as he also dropped down to try and grab your watering can. You had already grabbed it and stood up, so he had nothing else to do but stand up as well albeit a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry, again.”

“It’s-it’s all good.” You silently cursed yourself as you stumbled over your words. “Umm…what did you want to talk about?” You asked, wanting to get the conversation over with. 

“Oh! Yeah, um, this might sound a little silly, so I really don’t know how to ask it.” He started, staring down at his feet. “Do you, y’know, hate me?”

That’s NOT what you were expecting. “What.” You replied, shock evident on your face.

“It’s okay if you do! Well, I mean, I’ll be upset of course, but I just wanted to know if I upset you in any way or-or if there’s something I can do to make it better-”

“Sam, I don’t hate you.” You said plainly, probably the first coherent sentence you’ve ever said to him within your entire time of living in the valley.

“What?” It was his turn to exercise confusion. “But…but then why do you always run away when I try to talk to you? Or why do you keep our conversations so short? Sebastian and Abigail talk about you and what you say to them all the time, so i just assumed…” He trailed off, a frown forming on his face.

You let out a sigh and sat your watering can down beside you. Resting your hands on your hips, you looked up at him. “Wanna talk inside?” Your head motioned to your house, “I’ll explain there.”

He followed you into the house and quickly found a seat at the lone chair next to the table. You took a seat on your bed and sighed once more. He just seemed overwhelmingly confused. 

“Sam….” You began, trying to muster up the courage to say what you needed to say. It made you feel just terrible that your actions have led up to him thinking this. The silence began to draw on and on for what seemed like forever to Sam. To you, it felt like seconds as you licked your lips out of nervousness. “I like you…like, really like you.”

Sam was taken aback, shock apparent on his face. “So, you don’t hate me? We’re friends?” He smiled, relief seeming to wash over him. To that you shook your head which confused him once again. Why were you doing this to him?

“No, I, uh, think I’m in love with you, Sam.” You murmured, but he heard it and his face lit up with a blush. “So, yeah, I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite.” You tried to joke, trying to make the sting of his upcoming rejection hurt less.

“Y/N…Yoba, what a relief. I’m so glad you feel the same way.” It was your turn to be shocked. With your silence ringing out, he continued. “Your gifts are just so thoughtful and when we do talk, you’re just so cute and I can’t help but admire how hardworking you are. You’re the driving force behind all my music at this point, y’know.” He admitted with a big grin on his face.

You sat there, stunned, as this revelation dawned on you. He liked you back?! Even if you have treated him so much differently than the other villagers. Your gaze on him softened. He was too sweet. 

“You know, Sam, you’re the only person I buy and make gifts for…” You shared an admission in return for his. 

“Really?!” His grin not wavering, his eyes lit up completely. If he had a tail, you’re sure it would have been wagging like crazy. “Awww Y/N, you like-like me.”

“I literally just said that.” He laughed at your response. Sam seemed to be vibrating with joy at this new information, but then his neverending energy seemed to pause as he stared intently at you. He looked like he wanted to ask something and you tilted your head, a silent conversation happening between you two.

“Hey, Y/N, can I, like, kiss you?” He asked, looking away for a moment out of nervousness. Your face deepened in hue, but slowly you nodded. He saw this out of the corner of his eye and instantly the happiness shakes seemed to return. Sam doesn’t think he’s ever stood up quicker and he covered the distance between the two of you in a few large strides. You stood up from where you sat on the bed. The two of your shared a glance before Sam finally leaned down and your lips locked. Your eyes slowly closed as you enjoyed yourself and felt sparks fly around you. 

Sam is the one who pulled back, his gaze half-lidded as he looked you in the eyes. Then, his hands cupped the back of your head and pulled you forward into a deeper kiss. This one more intimate than the first. Sam was clearly eager as his tongue licked at your lips, seemingly begging for entrance, and you returned his eagerness tenfold as your mouth opened to allow your guys’ tongues to collide. 

You leaned back out of the kiss, breathless, as you quickly started pulling your overalls off. Sam looked stunned at your actions and you looked at him bashfully. “Did I read the room wrong?”

“Not at all.” Is all he said before he began mimicking your actions and stripped himself of his clothes. You two didn’t speak until you were both down to your underwear. Sam was clearly hard in his boxers and you couldn’t help but stare. Him, on the other hand, was trying his best to be respectful. His eyes were tempted to stare, but he was forcing himself to look you in the eyes despite the situation you two were in.

Slowly, your hands went up to unclasp your bra and you let your breasts fall free from their confines. Then he couldn’t help but stare. Taking the initiative, Sam walked on forward, closing the distance between you two, as he rested his hands on your chest. He leaned in for another kiss as he began tweaking your nipples. His hands were unpracticed, but Yoba did it feel good. It’s not like you had much practice yourself with most of your time being spent farming and fishing. It felt better than your own hands and that was a plus in your book.

“S-Sam,” you breathed against his lips, getting his attention. “Can…can you eat me out?” You asked tentatively. Like earlier you were expecting rejection, but one look at his face was enough to cast away any doubt. He looked over the moon at the mere prospect, as if he was waiting his whole life just to serve you.

“There’s nothing I want to do more.” He admitted as he watched you lay down on the bed. You looked divine. He never thought that he would ever get this chance with you and here you were, splayed out asking for him to devour you. Sam could feel his cock strain in his boxers at the thought. 

He crawled on top of you and was quick to remove your panties and throw them somewhere in the room. If any word were to describe Sam in this moment it would be overzealous. He wanted to take his time with you and unpack you fully, but Yoba were you just too perfect. You were too much for his senses. You drove him crazy. 

Sam sat there for a while just admiring your pussy until he remembered you were waiting for him to make a move. Slowly, he licked up your slit and both of you let out a moan. It took him a moment to get into it, but once he did, Sam was sloppily licking up your juices and making just the most obscene sounds as he made out with your pussy.

Your hand latched into his hair and pulled, which caused a groan to escape him, and you were a complete mess above him. Yet, your noises ticked up a notch when his tongue circled around your clit and began stimulating you there. He took note and began focusing there. Your moans may have been the sweetest song he has ever heard. Sam worked hard at your folds as his tongue continued to pleasure you.

To your surprise, you felt two fingers plunge into you which caused a yelp to leave your mouth. Not only was his tongue attacking your clit, but two fingers were, somehow, expertly working in and out of you in order to bring you pleasure. Unbeknownst to you, Sam found himself rutting against the bed as your sounds and your taste were turning him on beyond belief. 

“Sam…S-Sam,” you moaned out the only warning you gave before you came all over his face. He greedily licked up all your juices and continued licking until you pushed his head away due to overstimulation. 

You were both out of breath and took a moment to get air back into your lungs. 

“Hey, Y/N, can you flip over for me?” He asked so gently, no sign of demand in his voice, and your heart couldn’t help but flutter. You followed his request and even stuck your ass up in the air and rested your head on your arms to create the most comfortable position you could.

All you could feel was movement behind you, surely Sam taking off his boxers and lining himself up behind you, but he sure was taking his time. That was your final thought before he pushed himself inside you. An elongated moan escaped your throat that harmonized with the groan he let out. He seemed to fill you up completely. Whether or not that was true was irrelevant, all you knew was this was way better than what you could do with your hands. It took a moment for you to feel adjusted, but when you did you let out a soft “m-move” and Sam began pounding into you.

Your small little farmhouse had soft moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin echo around the space as Sam fucked into you. 

“F-fuck Y/N…” He whimpered from behind you, “you’re perfect, so perfect, fuck…” Sam’s tone was breathy and whiny as he babbled on and on. He did nothing but praise you and say how good your cunt felt as his cock bullied your insides. He could feel your walls tighten around him, signifying how close you were to climax, and he couldn’t help but be close himself. His grunts and whimpers got more frequent. Finally, your pussy clenched around him and formed a vice grip causing him to pause in his thrusts and he moaned at the tightness. Once again, you released around him and a high pitched keen escaped your throat. Sam kept fucking you through your orgasm into overstimulation, but he just kept going as he chased his own release. 

“Y/N, I’m close…” He groaned, his hips beginning to stutter. Sam leaned down and began to lick and suck at the back of your neck as he thrusted. Your moans were softer now as you tried to regain energy, yet he was still making you feel good. He straight up whined as he released into your pussy, his thick cum painting your walls. Sam humped against your cunt letting out whines as he did so as he let his release spill into you. He stayed situated there for a bit, letting himself truly enjoy your warmth against his softening cock.

Slowly, he pulled out and was transfixed by the combination of his cum and your slick that leaked out of your pussy. The sight was enough to get his dick kicking back to life and he bit his lip. You flipped yourself over onto your back to look up at him only to see his pupils blown wide as his gaze flickered up to yours.

“Wanna go for another round?”

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 15

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! I hope you like today’s chapter! The next few chapters after this one will be more and more intense… hope you’re ready for some angst! 🤪

Remy’s POV

“Remy, can I see you in my office please?” Joe peeked around the cubicle, startling me half to death.

I looked up from my laptop, “Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute, let me save my work.”

“It’s quite urgent.” He walked away, closing the door to his office once inside.

I rolled my eyes, wondering what he could possibly want this early in the morning.

I was finalizing edits on the new article for the month of December. I couldn’t believe an entire month had gone by already, and Christmas decorations were being put up.

When I knock on Joe’s door, he invites me in immediately. “Come in, take a seat.” He says without looking up from his screen.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Certainly. It’s been brought to my attention that you requested off December 3rd-8th?”

I nodded, “Yes, that’s right. I have a trip planned to-“

He cut me off, “That’s in 4 days, isn’t it?” He looked at his calendar.

“Yes, Joe, I requested it over two weeks ago. You approved it.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do, especially with so many people taking time off for the holidays this month.”

“Joe, I can’t cancel this trip. Is there any way we can-“

“Remy, you have that end of the year evaluation coming up don’t you?” He angled his glasses down and leaned back in his chair.

“I believe so.”

“I believe you’re overdue for a raise as well.”

“I am.”

“Remy, I read the digital article you published for Rachel in October.” He took off his glasses and set them on the dark, wooden desk.

“You mean the article Rachel-“

“I know your writing. I could pick out your writing blind in a room full of others. I’ve seen Rachel’s work and there’s no way in hell that was hers.” He said monotoned, straight to the point.

I shifted in my chair, feeling like I blew her cover, even though it seemed fair. In a way it made me feel accomplished that he could tell it was me. What differentiated my writing from Rachel’s? The girl he hired for my position. If he felt like this, why was she still better than me? Why did she get the comfortable salary and the flashy new title? Still, I began to feel that hope again. That hope he always managed to snatch away.

“It is in your best interest to stay put. That is, if you don’t want your evaluation to suffer. December is our busiest time of the year. You know that by now.” He put his glasses back on and resumed on his computer. “Think about it.”

“I’ll make some accommodations, thank you, Joe.” I stood up, walking towards the door.

“Close the door on your way out, darling.”

I drove to Billie’s after my day ended. In her kitchen, we ate the yummy meal she made, sitting at her rustic, wooden picnic style dining table.

I was nervous to tell her I wouldn’t be able to join her on tour when she leaves again in a couple of days. Especially since I had already cancelled on her a bunch the week of Thanksgiving, because Joe needed me to work the whole time. Apparently, Rachel had turned in her time off requests the moment she was hired, meaning I had to spend late nights at the office instead of helping Billie’s family prep for thanksgiving dinner.

“You’re quiet today, everything okay at work?” She asked, twirling chickpea pasta around her fork and putting it in her mouth.

I chewed my food, covering my mouth with a hand.“Yeah, just a slight change of plans.”

“What kind of change?” She asked hesitantly.

“At the end of the year I’ll be evaluated, and be given a raise! Maybe even a promotion?” I tiptoed around the details, truly wanting her to get it.

“Rem, that’s crazy! It’s great, it was about time!”

“I know! He even basically said my writing was way better than Rachel’s, and he could tell it apart from anyone else’s!”

“Really?” She smiled, briefly grabbing my arm and shaking it, excitedly.

“Yes!” I cheered. “I think he might make me a co-writer… Well officially. Or even better, in charge of her.”

“Well, what’s the catch? Humiliation ritual?” She joked, waiting for me to laugh with her.

“Well…” I fought with the pasta on my fork as I clenched my teeth in my mouth, trying to put the words in the right order before saying them out loud.

She put her fork down, watching me intently, noticing I wasn’t about to joke with her.

“I can’t come with you to Vancouver.” I felt awful, immediately reading her eyes.

“You mean, you’ll meet me in Seattle then, right?” she asked, hoping I wasn’t serious.

“Billie, I won’t be coming at all, I’m sorry.” I looked at her, seeing sadness in her eyes. She said nothing at all. “It’s just, this is really important to me. And I’m finally making my way up! I wouldn’t cancel if it didn’t know it was serious! This evaluation, I can’t afford to-“

“This just happened a week ago, Remy.”

“Well, technically I came to see you every day I could, after work!”

“You fell asleep on me almost immediately after we put on our show every time. And thanksgiving day, you sat on your laptop and worked the whole time. You barely looked up, until it was time to eat.”

“Billie, it wasn’t my fault. Rachel was out of town-“

She closed her eyes and breathed out. I could tell she was hurt. I hate that I let her down again. “Remy, look, I know that you’re busy, and your job is important to you… But, you promised. You promised me you’d try to come see me, and we already had all these things planned for us to do…” Her voice trailed off.

“I know, I know. And I did try!”

She looked at me with that are-you-kidding-me face.

“I’m so sorry. I really want to go with you. You know I do!” I ran both my hands through my hair, scratching my scalp as an attempt to self soothe. “Look, you’ll be back in California on December 10th.”

She sighed at me. Those big blue eyes drooping in misery.

“I will be there, in San Jose, to watch you perform. It’ll be awesome. Your last leg of the American part of the tour. Wrapping it up in our home state? I’m going to be at every single one of those shows.”

“Will you?” She crossed her arms.

I held out my pinky. “I promise.”

She took one look at my hand and stood up from the table, taking her dish to the sink.

“Billie…” I watched her scrub her plate clean. I got up, standing behind her. I wrapped my arms around her neck and rested my head on her shoulder. I pressed my left cheek against hers.

“It’s fine, Rem.”

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry… I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I unhooked an arm and held out my pinky.

She finally gave in and linked her pinky. I could tell it wasn’t good enough, but it was the best I could give.

“I know how important it is to you. I was just looking forward to you touring with me. That’s all. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.” I turned her around and gave her a proper hug. “I’ll see you again in a week, this time.”

“Yeah and then I leave again in February to Australia for a whole month.”

“Maybe by then I’ll be able to take a few weeks off and go Australia with you! In the meantime, let’s focus on the time being, okay?”

She pulled away, nodding. “I’m happy for you, you know that?”

“I know, it just sucks. I get it. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to go with you.” I walked back to my plate and finished eating.

******

The week dragged on as I took over Rachel’s duties, and typed endlessly on my Mac. Joe had allowed me to use Rachel’s office to “get my creative juices flowing”. She was off for most of the month, which meant I’d be bending over backwards to get her work out in time. I still had over 5 pieces to edit, unfortunately. Billie’s instagram posts from Seattle weren’t helping at all, either.

I zoned out, looking into the skyline, daydreaming of this office actually being mine.

“Happy Thursday!” Joe popped his head in, unusually chirp.

“Morning, Joe.” I looked up at him, coming back to reality.

“You look good in here.” He walked in and manspreaded on one of the accent chairs across from my- I mean Rachel’s desk.

I sat up straight, “It’s nice having my own space.” I smiled.

“It is, isn’t it…” He smiled back. “How would you like to join in our meeting tomorrow? All our column writers will be there, except Rachel, of course. I think you’d fill that chair out nicely.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm. I’ve wanted to sit in on one of those meetings for so long.

“Wonderful.” He stood up, clearing his throat and putting a hand on my desk. “Dress to impress. You wanna look the part. So, wear something nice.”

“Of course.” I nodded, as he walked out.

******

The next day, all I could think about was this meeting. I was thrilled to be able to be a part of something so big. I couldn’t wait to present all my ideas, and visions for the column. I spent hours the night before typing up a presentation, and looking for what to wear.

I dial Rachel on the way to work, hoping she’d have any advice for me. Luckily, she was just as ecstatic for me as I was.

“You’re gonna do great, girl! Just make sure you don’t speak over anybody, and smile at everyone, and just play nice. It’s a game, you know? You gotta make the right moves.” She suggested.

“Right, right. Ugh, I’m so nervous!”

“Don’t be. Oh! And, uh… What are you wearing right now?” Rachel asked.

“I’m wearing white slacks, a white blouse, and a beige blazer.”

“I was afraid you might say that.”

“Why!” I glanced at my outfit. “It’s cute!”

“The slacks. Maybe you should’ve gone with a nice, skirt… Okay, okay, how about your shirt? Is it low cut?Can you maybe lose the blazer?”

“Oh my god, Rachel! It’s a meeting, not a casting couch audition.”

She laughed, “Okay, okay. You’ll be fine, just make sure your hair looks good. It gives them something to fix their attention span on.”

I arrived at the office and passed the board room, peeking through the glass walls. Rachel was right. Every woman in there had tight pencil skirts or tight dresses on. Immediately, I feel underdressed… Or, I guess over dressed.

I walked into the bathroom, immediately taking off my blazer and undoing a couple of buttons on my satin, sleeveless blouse. I fixed my bra underneath, scooping my breasts up so they’d look good, and opened up my collar a bit. I turned, looking at myself from all angles, and letting my hair down. I tucked in my blouse to show off my waist, but decided to put the blazer back on.

I confidently walked out of the bathroom, into the board room and sat right next to Joe. His stare lingered as I prepped the PowerPoint on my laptop.

“Good morning.” He said. “I trust that you have everything ready for Rachel.”

“I do!” I smiled.

Everyone else settled into their seats, and shortly after the meeting began. It ran for about 45 minutes until it was finally my turn to present. Everyone’s visuals and ideas were so creative, not to mention the girl’s outfits were so eye-catching.

I look down at my phone, noticing Billie had left me about 15 text messages, which I couldn’t open until this was over.

I made my way up to the front, plugging in my computer and beaming my presentation to the huge smart screen. I started to cover the topics and titles for the next year, including small artists I’d be reaching out to for interviews. I noticed some of the corporate sharks talking amongst themselves, probably wondering who I was, and why Rachel wasn’t here.

I tried to ignore it, constantly making eye contact with Joe, who didn’t look any more interested than the rest did.

I thought about what Rachel said on our phone call, and decided to play their game. I knew I could be damn good at it too.

I slipped off my linen blazer, placing it on an empty chair near me. I resumed, noticing their attention shifting in the room.

I presented the idea to co-write with Rachel, as well as giving new, independent artists the opportunity to reach out to us, through their management, to be featured on our digital app. I really felt like I was holding their attention. Suddenly, they were intrigued in everything I said. It made me feel powerful.

“Are there any questions?” I asked, as I wrapped up.

“Sure, I have one.” A man, around 30, lifted his hand like a child in elementary school. “Will the budget need to increase?”

“Great question. There’s actually no need to up the budget, just yet.” I answered, knowing it was thankfully exactly what they wanted to hear.

He nodded, “And one more question. What’s your tattoo say?” He pointed at my arm.

I extended my arm and pointed at my right bicep. “Those are song lyrics to my favorite song.”

It felt weird showing my tattoos at work. I usually wore a light sweater or blazer on top, or a long sleeve blouse. Wearing a skirt would be interesting, given the fact that I have multiple thigh tattoos.

He let out a small laugh, his co-workers shaking their heads, but staring at me with the same eyes as him.

Eventually after answering enough questions, Joe took the floor and continued the meeting. After it was over, we enjoyed the catering and chatted for a while. I gravitated towards the writers in charge of art and film columns, taking in the conversations and feeling like a part of this high status team that I wished so badly to be in.

******

At the end of the day, Joe stopped by my- I mean Rachel’s office, for a quick debriefing.

“You must really like this office.” He said, shutting the door behind him.

“I do.” I shut my laptop, packing up my things to take back to the cubicle. Rachel would be returning to work Monday morning, so I knew I had to clear out before leaving today. “All good things come to an end, I guess. Thanks for including me in the meeting today. I learned a lot.”

“If you keep up this great work up, you might just earn your keep and have an office like this one.” He said, his voice low and persuasive.

“They say anything about me being a co-author?”

“They’ve asked to see more from you. Can you have an outline of this new digital article idea you have by this weekend?”

“I already do.” I nodded, unable to hold back a smile.

“Play your cards right and you might just get exactly what you want.” He smirked. “I’ve made reservations at Nobu for next Tuesday at 4pm.”

“Wait, Tuesday the 10th? I can’t, I have a commitment-“

“I wouldn’t disappoint them if I were you.”

“But, I told you, I have plans already that I can’t back out of. You can’t move the meeting to lunch time?”

“If you want to turn down your chance for these executives to have their eyes on nothing else but you, be my guest.” He began to walk out.

“No! No. I’ll be there.” I panicked.

“Good. Because they have their eye on you. That’s not something you want to pass up around here.” He said before opening my door and leaving.

I sighed, packing up my things and leaving. I could crumple up and die thinking about having to tell Billie I wouldn’t make it on Sunday. I promised her I would. There was just no way I could miss this dinner.

I hoped she would understand as I talked myself into FaceTiming her and breaking the news. I sunk lower into my seat as the line rang no longer than 2 times.

“Remy!” She sounded so excited when she answered. God, I’d hate to kill that.

“Hey, Billie, are you busy right now?” I hesitated.

“No, no, actually I was gonna call you! We share the same brain cells, I’m telling you.” She chuckled.

“Yeah.” I laughed.

“I can’t wait to see you, Rem. I miss you! Are you ready for San Jose?” She smiled big.

“Actually-“

“Cause I wanted to see if you wanna join me on stage? You can jam out with Ava and Jane, or do the barricade run with me? Maybe we can do Guess together? You can do Charlie’s part!”

Her ideas came out as one big run-on sentence. She looked so happy as she paced the tour bus and rambled on, moving her hands. I didn’t want to ruin it. I couldn’t bring myself to let her down again.

“I’d love that, it’s just-“

“Please! For me… don’t be shy.” She pleaded. She worked those eyes on me enough to convince me to say yes.

“Okay, I will.” I smiled at her

For the rest of the FaceTime call, I tried my best to act like I wasn’t figuring out how I’d make it to Nobu with Joe, and San Jose with Billie in one night.

[pookalicious-hq]

northern attitude... ushijima wakatoshi x reader

next | masterlist synopsis: wakatoshi's learned that it's okay for someone to bring light into his life. tags/tws: (no tws), soft ushiwaka, small fluff blurb, no pronouns used words: 700ish

He had been raised on little light. Grown by the fluorescent beams of his weight room, steady and unchanging, casting a cold halo as he strengthened every muscle, honed every skill. Early morning drafts skimmed past his shoulders, a chill that felt like home. It shaped him, this quiet, unyielding world of repetition, and everyone learned to forgive his icy exterior when met with curt nods or barely murmured acknowledgments.

After every big game, sports reporters clamoured to understand Ushijima Wakatoshi, expecting an ego as large as his talent. What they found was different—unfamiliar, even unsettling. His answers were clipped, his gratitude sparse. He didn't mind the raised eyebrows or disappointed glances; he understood what they wanted but refused to offer it. He didn’t think of his northern attitude as a fault. Why should he? He was who he was. Volleyball was all that mattered, and that was enough.

Still, as the season grew colder, he felt something change. There were moments on the court, in the early mornings before anyone else arrived, when he watched his breath curl into the air and felt the ache of quiet loneliness, like the weight of the world pressing down on his chest. It wasn’t unpleasant, not exactly. It felt like a challenge—one he was willing to meet head-on, even if it hurt.

In those rare moments, he allowed himself to think beyond the game, beyond the relentless pursuit of perfection. He wondered if there was something more to being here, some deeper meaning to all the hours and drills, the endless cycle of sweat and silence. The northern cold he’d always worn like a second skin began to feel less like armour and more like a barrier. A choice.

Tonight, he found himself wandering off the beaten path, his feet crunching over frozen ground. He looked up to the sky—dark, open, and infinite, stretching far beyond his reach. For the first time, he let himself linger in that unfamiliar place of questioning, wondering if there was a warmth he’d been missing, a light he could let in. The thought felt foreign, like an invitation he hadn’t known he wanted. And as he stood there, surrounded by the quiet that had defined him, he realized that maybe it was okay to reach for his light.

“Toshi?”

The frost surrounding him began to thaw at the touch of your voice. A breath tunnelled its path from out of his lungs, the tension in his shoulders releasing within your presence. He turned, his normally unwavering gaze softened under the night sky. In the dim light, he could see the gentle expression on your face, a look he wasn’t entirely used to but found himself craving more and more.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to brush a stray flake of frost from his shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent warmth flooding through him, a feeling foreign yet welcome. For a moment, he wondered if he looked different to you tonight—if maybe you could see through his carefully built walls, catching glimpses of the vulnerability he was still learning to embrace.

“Didn’t think you’d be out here,” you murmured, a gentle tease in your voice. “I thought you’d be in the gym until midnight, like always.”

He let out a quiet, almost reluctant hum. “Maybe… I needed something else tonight.”

And there it was—a small truth, so simple but heavier than anything he’d ever lifted in his training. He let it rest between you, watching as your eyes softened, reflecting the understanding he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

For the first time, he felt that maybe, just maybe, there was a light that belonged to him alone—one he was finally ready to reach for.

a/n: i'll say it again... greenest flag ever.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Open arms - Emily Prentiss

Smut - the way this fic has been sitting half written in my drafts forever. Go me for finally getting it done. Summary: Emily can't help but approach her ex in a dimly-lit bar wc: 2.1k

Emily thought that the night would be nice and relaxing for her and the team, celebrating another closed case at their favourite bar, their laughter drowning out the sounds of other people's conversations in the dim-lit restaurant. That was until her eyes locked in on a familiar figure standing near the bar, most definitely accompanied by someone. Emily froze, her hand tightly gripping her drink, and audibly gasped when you turned around, exposing your face to her.

"Y/n?" She whispered, catching Penelope and Derek's attention, who both turned to look at her. "You okay there Prentiss?" But she really wasn't. You were her only partner who ever stayed up waiting for her to come home from a case, genuinely concerned about her. You held her in your arms, letting her just sit there and open up if she wanted to. If she didn't, it didn't bother you, and you showered her with love nonetheless, always managing to pull a smile from her. And you were definitely the best in bed. Having you withering under her, relentlessly crying out her name was an image Emily would never forget.

She regretted leaving you every day, but it would keep you safe. After seeing what Hotch had to go through, she knew it was the smartest decision. Now that you were there though, in person after over a year of being apart, she wouldn't be able to stay away from you. If you would let her that was. She remembered your reaction, how you completely broke down, calling bullshit on her 'keeping you safe' excuse.

"I'm fine." She said, bringing herself out of her trance to take a long sip of her drink. "That an ex of yours?" Derek questioned, looking at you, now talking to a friend. You looked gorgeous, he thought. Your short black dress showed off your long legs and had a low cut to display your biggest weapon, the heels you wore flexing your calf muscles in the nicest way possible. Your stunning smile exposed your white teeth while a hand flipped your hair over your shoulder. He wondered how a dumbass like Emily was able to get you.

Emily's head shot back in your direction when she heard coughing, only to find out it was you, your face now going red as you choked on your drink, your friend, who Emily now realised she knew from when you dated, rubbing your back. Oh no... When the coughing stopped, you immediately looked back at her, confirming your suspicions. She returned your eye contact, awkwardly waving at you before you were suddenly facing away from her, refusing for the interaction to continue, earning a sympathetic look from your friend.

Emily heard a chorus of "Oof" and "Oh"s from the team, who were all cringing at the interaction. "Shut up." Emily groaned, stealing a shot from in front of Derek and downing it. She coughed twice, ignoring Derek's complaints, and turned to Spencer who was now telling them a statistic about exes. "It was actually found that 44% of Americans get back with their exes at some point after breaking up. And that only includes relationships post-break up instead of one night stands, so I'd say your chances are pretty high."

As much as Emily was unimpressed that Reid was giving her dating advice, she found herself walking up to you the minute your friend left, leaving you alone at the bar. Better me than anyone else shooting their shot, she thought. It was only when she stood right next to you that she realised she had no idea what to say and that the entire team was probably watching their interaction. She cleared her throat, muttering a small "Hey." You jumped slightly, rotating on the bar stool to face your ex-girlfriend. Emily expect you to frown, thrown your drink in her face even, but to her shock, you cracked a small smile at her. "Hey Em". "Can I sit?" She asked, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

You nodded, watching her as she sat. She looked different. She had cut her hair into bangs and wore her hair pin straight instead of the loose curls she'd put them in. She wore a low cut black top with black jeans as well as her go to combat boots. You assumed she came here straight from work. When you looked back up at her face, she was still staring at you, her gaze stuck on your thighs. "Um, can I get you a drink or something?" Her head shot up and she shook it "No, I've had enough to drink. Thanks." A long awkward silence followed and you looked over at the table she had come from, watching as all of her friends' heads shot in the opposite direction apart from one of them, still cluelessly observing you.

"I'm sorry - I shouldn't have-" "No!" You cut her off, cheeks going rosy. "Why don't we go for a walk or something?"

That walk led you both to the side of the road, waiting for a taxi as you made small talk, no discussion of going to either of your apartments until you were both sat in the back of the taxi on the way to your flat. Emily's hand rested on your thigh, both of your sides pressed against each other, faces mere inches apart as her free hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You felt your desire for Emily grow, squeezing your thighs together to get any amount of friction.

Emily's eyes caught the movement, smiling slightly as she felt her own core heat up for you. She leaned towards you to look out of the window, pressing her tits up against you as she tried to see how far away you were from the apartment, making small talk while you waited. The second the taxi driver pulled the car over, she was tossing her money at him and following you out of the car, both her hands resting on your hips as you led her into your fancy building and towards the elevator. The second you were in the elevator, pressing the button to the right floor, her hands were wrapping around your waist and she was pressing her lips against the soft skin of your neck.

You grabbed her hand when the elevator doors opened, leading the way to your apartment and frantically opening and shutting the door before you turned around, throwing yourself into Emily's arms. You slammed your lips onto hers, wrapping your arms around her neck as you pressed your body against hers. Her hands were immediately under the skirt of your dress, groping the fat of your ass in her hands. You pulled away from the kiss, muttering "couch" to Emily, who complied, bending down slightly so she could wrap her arms around the back of your legs and picking you up.

You squealed as she walked you over to your big couch, having forgotten about her FBI agent strength. She dropped you on the couch, crawling over you but you pushed her back so she fell flat on her back on the large couch, throwing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She tried sitting up but you pushed her back, kissing her again so she would give in, letting you take control of the kiss. Her hands trailed up your body until they reached your tits and she tugged at the front of your dress, letting them spill out the front of it. You gasped, and she took your shock to her advantage, throwing her hips up into yours and rolling over so she was on top of you.

Her hands were instantly on your tits, pulling and twisting at your nipple, the other one in her mouth. "Em, Emily!" You begged, trying to grind your hips into hers but she wouldn't listen, taking her time kissing all over your body. When she couldn't reach any more skin due to the fabric of your dress, she fully separated from you, ordering you to turn around so she could undo the zipper. So you got up onto your knees, allowing Emily to undo your dress and pull it above your head, before her hands were wandering again, down your stomach and into the skimpy panties you wore.

She moaned into your ear, feeling how wet you were before both her hands were at your hips again and she was tugging you towards her as she fell backwards, landing you in her laps. She welcomed your kisses, tightly gripping your hips as you ground your cunt on her jean-clad skin. Eventually, you got desperate, tugging her shirt up so you could feel underneath it, hungrily reaching for her tits. At your whine, she finishes the job for you, tossing her shirt somewhere in the room before your hands were back behind her, unclasping her bra.

Before you manage to throw yourself onto Emily even further, you feel her hand under your panties, immediately searching for your clit, which she finds in mere seconds. You hear yourself begging for her, struggling to hold yourself above her. Emily's hands manhandle you so your back in pressed against hers, your legs spread in front of you. Her hands begin wandering once more, and she inserts two fingers into your warm core. You cry out, arching your back as Emily continues to suck hickeys onto your neck.

Her unoccupied hand plays with your tits, alternating which one she massages. Your head rests in the crook of her next, trying not to buck your hips into her hand as she continues fingering you. Your chest heaves with each breath you take, and you're too far into pleasure land to think of how much of a mistake you were making. You feel the familiar knot building up in your stomach and whimper, your hands reaching below you to grasp Emily's thigh. Moaning loudly with an arch of your back, you cum on Emily's hand. Emily, who is whispering praises in your ear and brushing your hair out of your face with her free hand.

With the effects of your orgasm now gone and you catching your breath, you begin to internally cringe. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? You will yourself to turn around in Emily's arms, whispering "Your turn", fully aware that she wouldn't say yes. "No baby, it's okay. This is just about you." You nod, allowing yourself to fall onto the couch beside her. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Dragging yourself up from the couch, your legs still shaking, you shut the bathroom door before Emily gets the time to follow you.

You wrap a free towel around your torso, mentally cussing yourself out, thinking of a way to get Emily out of your house. The clock on the wall reads 3:28. It's late. You should go home. Repeating the words to yourself, you open the bathroom door to be met with the tall brunette. She smiles widely, a hand coming to your hip to bring you close and kiss you softly. You return her kiss but can't bring yourself to do the same with a smile. She senses the change in your behaviour and you take that as your chance to tell her: "It's late. You should go." You look down and away from her face so you can't see the way her smile drops. "Right. Um, this was fun." Your hum is enough of an answer to her and you practically chase her to the door once she's fully clothed.

Once the door is shut behind her, you peek through the peep hole to see her bring a hand up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. She calls someone on the phone, someone you can only imagine was at the table with her at the bar. Listening closely through the door, you hear "No Derek, I did not win her heart back. She's really done with me."

But it's late. You should go sleep.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a story request:

Undertaker (Black Butler) x Ciels sister!reader where maybe during the Campana arc reader kinda helps Ut. Like, maybe the fact that the dead are going to turn into zombies is almost revealed because (for example) a zombie breaks out of their coffin already, so reader lures it back? Idk. I just really want to read about the reader helping Ut because she wants to see him happy and smile and whatnot (I always get so happy when Ut laughs). Seeing as this would be yandere maybe reader is also just a bit obsessed with Ut? Not full blown yandere, just slightly codependent obsession?

Thank you! (Thank you if you do write it. If you don't write it then thank you for all your other wonderful stories)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was a bit tricky considering the second part of your request, which I couldn't make it fit here, so I'm just mentioning rather than showing. Overall, I hope you enjoy it. Undertaker is always a delight to write to.

The night was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of incense and something far less holy - much heavier, as rotten blood and stitched limbs. The Campania’s lavish halls were brimming with the murmurs, laughters and music, all unaware of the dark secret that writhed below the surface - bodies resting in coffins, waiting for the signal to rise and attack.

Amidst this carefully constructed chaos, you stood near the back of the room, your eyes subtly darting from side to side, scanning for any signs of trouble. You had been on edge since Undertaker had whispered his plan to you, a smile playing on his lips, as if this entire twisted game was no more than a grand performance he had orchestrated.

And yet, when he had explained what he needed to do, you could see the glint of madness, the excitement in his eyes that had sent a chill down your spine. But it was that same glint you couldn’t resist, the way his eyes seemed to light up, the way he smiled that you jumped right onto his plan without him needing to ask you to.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There was a shuffling sound, barely perceptible, and you stiffened, your hand clenching around the fan you held. Glancing around, your gaze quickly fell toward the source. One of the coffins was rocking slightly, the lid shifting as something within struggled to break free. Panic surged through you; this was too early.

The guests would see, and everything would unravel. Undertaker’s plan would be ruined.

Quickly, you moved closer, slipping past the other coffins with practiced ease. You reached the coffin just as the lid burst open, and a decaying hand clawed its way out, grasping at the air. The corpse’s eyes were wide, empty, and hungry, a sight that would have sent anyone else running in terror. But not you. You had seen far worse, working alongside Undertaker for a few months now.

You had heard Undertaker’s tales, his gentle whispers of how he had perfected this experiment, how it was all leading to this moment. You knew the lengths he would go to for his morbid fascination. And you loved the dreamy look on his eyes, even if you didn't quite understood what he planed to achieve with that.

With a calm that surprised even yourself, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the coffin and the rest of the room. “Shh, shh… it's alright, dearie.” You whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the murmurs of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra.

The zombie's head jerked towards you, its movements stiff and unnatural, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you slowly extended your hand, letting it grasp at your fingers, and gently guided it back down. “I know you’re restless and confused, but you need to wait just a little longer,” you continued, almost as if you were speaking to a child. “Go back, and I promise you’ll be able to stretch your legs soon.”

“Well, aren’t you a brave little thing?” He drawled, his voice low, a touch of amusement lacing his tone as he gently caressed your cheek with a soft touch. “I must say, I didn’t expect my sweet little assistant to take matters into her own hands.”

With surprising compliance, the creature obeyed, retreating back into its dark confinement. You gently closed the lid, making sure it was secure, and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You could not be afraid, yet it was terrifying to speak with a dead being.

Turning back, you found yourself face-to-face with Undertaker, his lips curved into a wide, knowing grin.

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you couldn’t help but return his smile, even if just a little. “I couldn’t let your plan fall apart,” you said, keeping your voice light, though your heart was still pounding. “Besides, I know how much this means to you… I couldn’t stand to see you disappointed.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered against your skin, the touch affectionate. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the dim light. “I’m not afraid because I want to see you happy,” you admitted quietly, averting your gaze, afraid to see his reaction. “I know how you are when you’re excited, and… I like it.”

Undertaker’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, his gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Oh, my dear, always so considerate, always thinking about me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You know, you’re quite the enigma yourself. So delicate, yet so fearless when it comes to helping me play with my little experiments. Are not afraid of them? Of me?”

Undertaker’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his grin melted into something more tender, more genuine. He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the look he gave you was almost reverent. “You’re quite the fascinating creature yourself, little dove.”

His voice barely above a whisper. “Always so eager to please, even when you should be running the other way. I wonder… do you even realize what you’re getting yourself into?”

You knew you should have been afraid, but instead, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something almost intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who could understand him, who could share in his dark, twisted delight.

“I don’t care,” you replied softly, your voice steady. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what happens.”

Undertaker chuckled, the sound low and rich, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already chosen your side, my dear,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “After all, there’s no turning back now… and I do so love having you by my side. I won't let you get away now, not even if your little brother found us out, not even if the whole world goes up in flames, you're my pretty assistant."

As you stood there, locked in Undertaker’s gaze, you realized you didn’t mind the darkness that surrounded him. In fact, it was that very darkness that drew you in, binding you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

A smug smile grew on your lips. "Good to know because I'm not planning to let anyone separate us."

And as the night continued, you found yourself more certain than ever that you would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face, even if it meant dancing along the edge of madness with him.