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sweetblossomsss · 9 hours ago

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Without You || CHOI SAN

Synopsis: Life without you was empty. Life after I left was unbearable. But now that I'm back, I will never let us go through that again.

WARNINGS: Please read "I'll be back" first to understand bc this is a part 2(ish), this is in San's point of view, fluff, suggestive, San is an assassin, fights, blood, cuts, death, gory-ish, angst(MY FAV), stabbing, guns, argument between Y/N and San, son is used as a term of endearment, "baby" is used for Y/N, I know I am missing, just lmk :)

Word Count: 15K Started: Dec 2, 2024 Finished: Feb 9, 2025

Blossom's Note: Happy New Years my petals. May this year bring you love and protection. Now this story had me feeling all types of things, definitely a whirlwind of emotions. Shoutout to the Anonymous Petal who gave me this idea. Title was inspired by Infinite H's Without U ft Zion T (Chef's kiss song) I truly hope it lives up to your standards. Now without further ado, grab a drink and popcorn and enjoy!

—

FIRST ENCOUNTER

"Understood." San says into the burner flip phone, nodding his head once. "Yes, sir. I'll get it done." And with that he presses the hang up button and breaks it in half as he starts walking, throwing the broken phone away in a nearby trash can.

He shoved his hands in the coat’s pockets as he takes precise, steady movements trailing behind his target. He squints his eyes at the sudden gush of wind, letting out a sigh. He repeats in his head no distractions like a mantra, just wanting to finish this and go home.

He sticks within the shadows he finds in the broad day light, such as building’s walls, when his target makes sudden stops along the way. It’s almost as if San is able to bled in with the bustling crowd—easy to slip and slide, getting closer to the target.

Within his coat was a deadly syringe filled with a lethal chemical, all ready to use as he plays the game of patience—waiting for the perfect opening. San moves closer, taking out a pair of black leather gloves and hastily puts them on. Just as the distance gets shorter and shorter he reaches into his coat and suddenly—

BAM!

Everyone in the crowd jolts from the sudden noise of construction. San follows the noise with his eyes as he turns to the side, seeing a construction worker using a jack hammer to break up concrete. He shakes his head and sighs in frustration, returning to his target—but just when he was about to look away, he spots you.

“Oh my god.” He whispered in disbelief, eyes slightly widening. It’s all like a movie right now—time fucking stopped when he spotted you across the street, walking in slow motion as you ran a hand through your hair while the wind blew.

You had to be one of the most beautiful woman San has ever seen. He couldn’t even control his body as he took steps forward as if in a trance while people moved around him—not caring if he was being shoved by some. San was mesmerized by your beauty. The way your presence commanded space, as the buzzing crowd moves around you.

Everything just seems to fade away—people and noise—and it felt like he had the perfect view of you. If his eyes were able to form those cartoon heart eyes, they would be in that shape right now. How can he describe this foreign feeling? Is this what they call love at first sight?

Soon enough, San was able to snap out of his day dreaming when a passing car honked at him causing him to jump back. He gasped in shock, “Shit!” He said looking at the car with widen eyes, chest heaving. Reality hits him as he looks to the side and watched his target move further away, and then he looks at you, also getting further away. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself as he walks to the direction of his target.

So much for distractions, right?

San sucked the front of his teeth as he shook his head, rushing to his target. He’ll come back to you. As he finally catches up, he realizes that the way everything was set up for perfect for San. The streets were alive with the random street vendors, crowd moving in different directions, people chattering and shouting that mixed with the traffic noise—all that’s needed to making this a smooth kill.

He watched as the target froze in his steps right in the center of the bustling crowd as he yelled into the phone causing some dirty looks at him for both blocking the pathway and screaming so loud as they moved around him.

San reached into his coat and popped the cover off the needle and took it out as he slithered through the crowd like a snake. He kept his head low, only looking up when he heard the roaring of the man’s loud voice. “No– Shut up, shut up!” The man argued with the person on the phone, “You listen to me–“

And in one swift motion, San had brushed past him with his hand barely grazing the man’s neck. “Hey,” he calls to San who froze in his steps and turned to him, “watch where you’re going.” He scoffs at him and then returns to the person on the phone. San smirked at him and turns away from, leaving before the madness.

And just in a matter of seconds, the man suddenly shot his hand to his neck, gripping it as he stumbles back a bit—his vision started to get disoriented as panic and confused surged through the man’s body. He couldn’t feel his limbs causing for him to drop his phone and then his body. Foam started forming at his mouth as he lied there with his eyes open.

A woman’s terrified scream can be heard causing people to look at the direction of the scream. “Someone call an ambulance!” A bystander said as people gathered around the body. People covered their eyes and mouth’s in shock of the sight.

San looked over his shoulder as he watched the circle of people. He throws away the syringe in a trash can and takes off his gloves, securing them in his coat as he picks up the pace. Now he can focus on you.

—

Returning back to the scene of when he first saw you, he wasted no time in trying to search for you. To say he looked like a mad man would be an understatement. He went into every single store in the proximity in hopes that you were there but you were nowhere to be found.

He lets out a groan of frustration when he leaves a little book store. He sighs in disappointment as he tucked his hands in his coat, a pout forming on his lips. But then, by a fucking miracle, he sees you coming out of a store with a huge smile on your face as you examine the things you bought in the bag that clings on your arm.

He swears he can see stars at the sight. In that moment he decides to just follow you. He tells himself that he going to be quiet and keep his distance—but as someone who is trained to be silent, quick minded, and able to kill people, even with the most ruthless methods— he was anything but the sort. He doesn’t know how but you had him so nervous and clumsy and he doesn’t even know who you are.

The first time you looked over your shoulder, just to glance back at some of mannequins that were dressed in pretty shirts, San had frozen in steps and cleared his throat as he adjusted his coat. He looked out into the distance as he sniffed, making it seem as if he totally wasn’t following you.

He slowly peaks to the side as he sees you continuing on your path to which he followed. But the second time you had stop to turn around San was thrown off guard which caused him to trip over his own feet, catching himself before his face eats the floor. He played it off while doing this horrible, awkward hop dance to play it off but—hold on, he could’ve sworn he saw you chuckling as you faced forward to keep walking.

—

It had gotten to the point where you already knew you were being followed by him so you just froze in your steps and turned around, crossing your arms as you pushed your hip to the side. He gasped as he rushed to hide behind a light post, unconsciously wrapping his arms around it.

He is mentally face palming himself right now as he stares at the large lake in front of him, wishing he could drown in it right now. When he peaks, he sees you staring at him as you raised an eyebrow at him to which he sighed because he was caught red handed. Great, I look like a stalker when in reality I was just scared to approach her.

He removes himself as he tried to find enough courage while approaching you. His heart was beating so hard against his chest, his palms were all sweaty as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Hey–Uh–I–“

He fumbled with his words as he saw how gorgeous you were up close. His eyes slightly widen as you tilted your head in confusion with a raised eyebrow, “May I help you?” You asked with curiosity and amusement in your tone.

He blinked, all flustered as he cleared his throat. “You like to–uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I–I just think that you’re pretty.” He rushed out the last few words. Wow, real fucking smooth you idiot, he thought to himself.

You kept the eyebrow raised as you wondered if you should laugh or start backing the fuck away from this man, which made San internally panic at your silence. Soon a smirk starts to form on your lips as you eyed him up and down, “Oh,” your tone was filled with amusement, “I know you.”

His heart skips a beat, “What?” He said in a shock, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened.

You kept that smirk on your lips as tilted your head slightly to the side. “Yeah, you’re that guy who almost got run over from the car earlier? Or when you tripped over your feet and did that dance?” Your eyes carried mischief in them. “So far you hiding behind the light post as if your shoulders weren’t going to give you away has been my favorite.”

San turned red, completely flushed in a deep red of embarrassment. She saw all of that? Trying to save himself, he inhaled and turned to the side trying to look mysterious, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squeaks out causing you to laugh at his reaction.

Seeing how he won’t win this, he let out a defeated sigh. “Okay,” he closed his eyes as he threw his head back in embarrassment, “Yes, unfortunately that was me.” He looks down to the floor, unable to look at your face. “I’m not as smooth as I thought I was.” A small pour forms on his lips.

You just laughed at his reaction, the smile reaching up to your eyes. You eyed him up and down once more before extending your hand out, “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

His head shoots up at the introduction. He looks between your hand and face, that still held a smile. Shake it, idiot. “Oh,” he says taking your hand and shaking it. “I’m San. Choi San.” He scratched the back of head, “I promise I’m not normally like this.” He lets out sheepish smile and chuckle.

You nodded. “I figured.” You said with a playful tone.

There was a moment of silence before you cleared your throat, removing your hand from his grasp as you crossed your arms, “So,” you started off, “Is there a reason why you followed me or do I have call the cops?”

San jumped in his spot, “No!” He blurted out as he puts his hands up, feeling his heart racing. “I mean–no, please.” He lets out a nervous laugh. He then takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “It’s just that–Well, when I saw you I just thought that you were beautiful and I couldn’t find you so I tried looking for you and I was scared to approach you so I just followed–“

He cuts off his own rambling thinking he sounds like an absolute stalker, but to his surprise you had an amuse look on your face. He cleared his throat, speaking clear, “I wanted to ask you out on a date.” He said boldly before falling back into his nervous, stammering self, “Only if–if you wanted to. If you were interested.”

A playful glint was in your eyes before you nodded your head. “Sure,” you said, “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Maybe he misheard, “What? Wait, really?” He asked and you nodded at him with a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You laughed at him. You kept a mischievous smile on your face, before crossing your arms. “Just so you know, I expect a good dinner. I do have expensive taste—You think you can keep up with that?” You asked him playfully as you reached to your back pocket and unlocked it so, handing it to him.

He smirks as he nodded. “I’ll keep up with whatever you throw at me.” He grabs your phone and inputs his number, writing San on the contact name. “Okay, there you go.” He hands the phone back to you.

You sent him a text and he got it immediately. “There, now you have mine.” You tell him. And with that, you two exchanged your goodbyes. He watched as you started to walk away but stopped at a distance turning to him, “Also, no tripping to the floor or getting run over by cars on the date.” You yelled at him, teasing him as you waved goodbye before walking away.

He chuckles, looking down feeling a bit flushed of redness on his cheeks. He swears he is high on life right now as he walks through the park—it’s as if nothing can ruin this moment. Suddenly, his personal phone starts ringing and too much in a euphoric feeling, he didn’t even bother looking at who was calling him as picked up in a dazed out tone, “Yes~?”

“San!” The rough voice yelled sternly. “It has been hours. You have yet to call. Did you complete the task or no?” It was his boss, Lee.

In a snap, he stands up straight wiping that goofy smile off his face as reality hits him. Oh shit, he thinks to himself. “Yes sir. The task is completed.” He cleared his throat, “I’ll report when I arrive.”

—

The first date was something that was huge for San. First and foremost, it was his first date, ever. He wanted everything to be perfect for you so he did some "research" by watching romantic movies and searching up date ideas. He felt so overwhelmed at the amount of ideas so he just decided to go with what his heart said.

He wanted a picnic at the very same park where he asked you out. He didn't want to go to the movies or do anything too crazy because he just wanted to get to know you, from what your favorite color was to what your ambitions are for life. He even cooked all the food, yes some parts were burnt but you told him it was the best part—it was extra flavor.

You smiled at the way he eased his shoulders. When he looked to the side, you gulped a good amount of water, trying to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you aren't fan of burnt food but today you will inhale anything that is burnt. You would eat a whole burnt piece of meat to prove how much you appreciate the time and dedication San took to make this date comfortable and wonderful.

You have never had anyone do the things San has done for you in just a span of a few hours. Something about him captivated you and honestly you feel lucky to have met him. Since that day on, you two were inseparable. Throughout the following weeks the feels for one another grew and grew and it was only a matter of time before San would ask you out.

Tonight was movie night—San’s favorite night. It always ended up with the most cringe worthy movies with you lying on top of him as he runs his fingers through your hair—which is exactly what’s happening. But instead of him watching the movie, he’s watching you. He chuckles over your reactions when you laugh at something stupid or when you face palm at the second hand embarrassment.

He stares at you with eyes of memorization. He has fallen so deeply for you. He can’t believe he got so lucky to experience such a rare emotion—love—in his life. He didn’t know someone could bring it out of him, but he was more than happy that it was you.

Which is all the reason why he has decided to quit and leave this horrid life he has known since little and start anew. For you and for him—for this future he desperately wants to have with you. And tonight, he was going to get out no matter what.

“You know you don’t have to go.” Your soft voice that had a hint of playfulness in it rang in his ears as you looked up at him and placed your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’s late,” you smiled mischievously as you moved up, closing the distance, hovering over his lips, “might as well stay the night.”

The ending credits were rolling with a slow ending song in the background that fits the mood. San groans lightly as his hand makes way to your hair, caressing it, “You know I can’t, beautiful.” He whispered to you. San has made it very clear he wants to respect you and your boundaries until you two are official. Plus, he doesn’t want anything official until he is done with his other life.

He doesn’t want to risk someone knowing about you. Plus, this is the first time he is ever experiencing this and he wants to take it slow, let things form naturally.

But you on the other, make it very difficult for him to stay sane. The way you look at him makes him come undone almost instantly, but he fights the urge. You love that he is respect of you, but shit, you just want to pounce on him sometimes—like tonight.

You sighed and got up, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you crossed your arms. “Why not?” You asked, close to stomping like a spoiled child who is getting told no.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction as he stands up and walks up to you, putting his finger under your chin as he places a kiss on your lips. “You know why, baby.” He tells you.

You bit down your lip to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot as you look away, all annoyed but in reality you didn’t want him to see you blushing. You roll your eyes and look back at him, “Tell me,” you say, “Who is she?”

San was taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows as he tilts his head to the side, “Who’s who?” Asking you while looking at you as if you were crazy.

“Is there someone else?” You asked him and you placed your hand on your hips, trying to stop the smile that’s forming on your lips.

“What?! No!” He exclaimed with widen eyes. “You know it’s not like that, Y/N. There is no one else, I prom–“

He stops his rambling when he sees you starting to laugh. You throw your arms over his shoulders, “Sannie, I know. I’m just joking. Just trying to keep you on your toes.” You tell him through your giggles, kissing his cheeks.

He gives you a deadpan look, “You stress me out.” He tells you playfully, wrapping his arms around you. “Did you know that?” He smirks at you.

“Oh,” you tilt your head to the side smirking, “Do I?” You asked as you removed yourself from his hold, brushing past him as you sat on the sofa, letting out a sigh. “You can leave then–“

“Y/N, come on. Don’t be like that baby–“

“I’ll just be here.” You cut him off as you stare into his eyes, reaching your jacket’s zipper at the top, “all alone,” you say seductively as you watched him gulp, pulling down the zipper to reveal the exposing tight tank top underneath, “missing you.”

San stayed silent for a moment before he shook his head and looked away, covering his eyes with his hand, “Woman, my virgin eyes. We mustn’t.” He said sounding all innocent.

“Oh, please San! Virgin eyes?!” You laugh at him getting a stern like with you as you throw him pillow from your sofa.

He then looks at you and starts to walk to you, which got you all excited because you think that you finally broke this man—but no. “I know what you’re doing.” He said in a low voice, placing a hot kiss underneath your ear. “And it’s not going to work.” His lips trail to your lips as he zipped up your jacket, pecking your lips once.

You opened your eyes, panting as the realization hit you. He smirked as he stood up, “Two can play that game.” He tells you. Feeling the frustration within you build up, you went hit him with another pillow but he moved fast enough as he let out a too slow laugh.

“Choi San!” You yelled at him as you watched him walk to the door. You glared at him as he extending his arms out to the sides, waiting for a hug to which you huffed and looked away. After a few seconds, you looked back and saw him in the same position with a goofy smile on his face.

You pursed your lips as you got up, stomping with attitude in each step. You opened your arms out and looked to the side causing him to quickly pull you into his embrace. “You’re impossible you know that?” He mumbled to you.

You let out a small smile as you wrapped your arms around him and looked into his eyes, “Yeah, but you still like me, don’t you?” You say softly.

He throws his head back and lets out a sigh of satisfaction then looks back to you and smile. “More than you know.” He whispers to you and placed a sweet, long kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.” You whispered back. With one last kiss he left and you gently closed the door. You leaned your back on it as you stomped your foot feeling so frustrated at his actions.

You walked to the sofa with slumped shoulders as you dived into it, face planting into the pillow—letting out a small scream. “This man is going to be the death of me.” You say to yourself as you have flashbacks to how he kissed you.

The elevator dinged open, revealing a dimly lit bar with low hums of conversations scattered among the place—clinking of glasses filled the air as San stepped in to the place, noting how the men all along the walls looked at him before returning their gazes. If there was one place San knew like the back of his hand, it was here. A sanctuary—a home— that oozed with danger.

San’s eyes scanned the room until it stopped on a familiar face. He watched as the older man swirled his drink before taking a sip, who in the moment spotted San. He gives a small wave and a smile, “San!” The older man chuckles at him, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked him as he approaches him. “Come, come. Sit with me.”

The older man takes a chair for him and pats it for him. He raised his forefinger to the bartender, gesturing for one cup. San felt his chest tighten as he gulped watching the bartender a cup down on the table. He watches his boss Lee, grab the cup and started to pour. “Boss,” his voice was low—a slight pause with his words, “I–,” He takes in a deep breath. “I want out.” He said firmly.

Lee froze mid-pour. “Out.” He repeated with furrowed eyebrows. He lifted his eyes to San and then back down to the drink, giving him a small laugh. He sighs out as he places the cup down, “I’ve always known this day would come. I just did not think it would be so soon.” He gives a small smile to San.

He raises his glass with a raised eyebrow prompting San to grab his, clinking glasses together. After a moment of silence Mr. Lee spoke out, “So, you want to leave.” He says, slightly sadden by the news.

San places his drink down, wiping his hands on his pants as he sits up straight. He nods his head once, “Yes, sir.”

Lee nods once, processing this. “Why the sudden change?” He tilts his head, swirling the drink in his hand, maintaining his eye contact with San.

“It’s not sudden, sir.” San begins. “First and foremost I just want to say that I am beyond grateful that you took me in and gave me the life I have. Without you, I don’t know where I would be. Truly. But, I just think… it’s time for me to move on.” San said, lowering his gaze feeling a bit nervous and worried.

Lee just stays silent, eyeing San up and down—almost as if he’s studying him. “Hmm,” he hummed at him, taking a sip before slamming his cup down. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” He smirked at San.

San just stayed silent as he looked into his eyes. Lee’s eyes narrowed slightly, smirk growing wider as if he was amused. The man claps his hands and his laughter echoed throughout causing for his men to shift their attention to him for a second. “I knew it, I knew it~” He does a little shoulder dance as he leans in closer to taunt San. “Of course it is. Who would’ve thought your cold heart would be melted, huh? You’re in love.”

San groans in embarrassment, shoulders slumped as he facepalms. “Boss,” it comes out muffled, “please.” He pleaded with him.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked him, with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

San peaked through his fingers, a small pause. “Yes.” He squeaks out, trying to him his composure—trying to stop himself from swinging his legs under the table like a school girl as he blushes hard.

“Ou!” His boss shoved him as he fan girled with him. Would you believe the sight of two of the most toughest, deadliest men in the world are acting like two school girls as they gossip over San’s love life?

After a moment though, unfortunately, the seriousness climbs back in—killing all happiness in the air. “San,” his boss leans on the table and he intertwined his fingers, “You know how this works. You know you can’t just simply leave.” Of course, San knew, but for you he was willing to do anything.

He watches as Lee pours another drink for himself. “I have a job for you.” He said simply. “A job that only that you can do.”

“Anything.” San said, body all stiffened up as he paid close attention.

Lee leans slightly in, “There are men—powerful men— who have gotten away with the most vile, inhumane things. They all think that with the money, status, even influence they have, that they can hide behind it. Almost as if they are untouchable—but you, San, are going to change that.”

Internally, San is feeling his heart racing—unsure of what is to unfold in this conversation. Externally, he remains his calm demeanor, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“What I’m telling you is that if you want out, then this is what you must do. You will take all of them down—permanently.” His voice got stern. Lee leans back in his chair, “Think of it as cleansing to the world. Do this for me and you are free.”

He grabs a folder that was lying next to him, sliding it to San—it’s like as if he knew this interaction was going to happen. “Names, locations, habits, crimes—everything you need is in there.”

San grabs the folder and opens it. His heart started racing as his eyes scanned the different pages, his eyes widening. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do? This is impossible.” San looked at him as he leaned back in his chair, all in disbelief. They are politicians, CEOs—all different important figures.

“I’m asking you—No—Demanding you to do this job.” Lee said with a slight raise in his voice. But he can’t help to let out a sigh as he places a comforting hand on San’s shoulder. “San, I care about you very much, like a son, hence why I am giving you a chance out. But you are the only one who I trust with this type of job.”

Lee leans back in his chair, raising the glass to his lips. “And if you want to be with Y/N,” San’s eyes quickly shoot to him, feeling his face drain color, “then this is what you must do.” He takes a sip of his drink.

If looks could kill, Mr. Lee would’ve been dead as soon as your name came out of his mouth. Lee has never seen such a murderous look on San’s face before and, trust him, that says a lot. He laughs at his reaction, “Relax.” He tells him as he waves him off. “You know I had to make sure. She’s a good one. I can see why you want to leave all of this for her.”

San should’ve fucking known. Of course, Lee would know—he knows everything. Now San is left with this blessing and curse of approval. Lee stands up, grabbing his coat and placing it on as he signaled his men that it’s time to go. “Think it over.” He tells San as he adjusts his coat and walks past him, patting his shoulder.

Think it over? There was nothing to think over. San is a man who knows what he wants and what he wants is you. He would find the ends of the Earth just for you. San stands up, the chair rusting against the floor. “I’ll do it.” He shouts to his boss.

Lee grabs his hat off the rack and enters the elevator, his men all trailing behind him. He smirks at San, “I knew you would.” And with that the elevator door closes, leaving San to figure his next strategy as he sits back down ordering a drink.

It was a beautiful, dark night. The stars twinkling and gleaming from afar as the moonlight casts over the city. Up in the roof San was crouched low, carefully assembling his sniper rifle piece by piece. You could say he was a bit nervous, but not from the mission—no, no—it was from your soft voice in his ear Bluetooth.

“I miss you.” Your voice ringed so sweet in his ears, it had him biting on his lower lip as he formed a smile. “When are you coming over again?” You asked, turning to lay on your stomach on the bed as you slowly kicked your legs up and down.

“I’ll come over soon baby.” He murmured in a low and steady voice. You let out a silent scream at his voice and sweet name as you covered your mouth, kicking your feet like a school girl. But in all honesty, San didn’t know when he would be going to see you—given the task at hand.

You regained your composure, clearing your throat bringing the phone closer to you. “Soon is what you said last time.” You spoke with a pout on your lips. You sat up on the bed and let out a sigh. “Are you avoiding me?” You crossed your arms.

San chuckled softly at your slight attitude, his hand tightened up the last piece of the rifle’s scope into place. His eyes flickered to the building across from him, seeing his target’s silhouette visible through the window. “Avoiding you? Why would I ever do something stupid. You’re all I think about.”

You bit down on your finger to stop yourself from squealing, feeling your heart swarm with warmness from his words. “You think about me?” You asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “When, huh?” You smirk as you bit your lip.

He smirks as he looks through the scope, his eyes following the shadow. “All day, everyday. When I wake up to when I go to sleep. Every second, every minute, every hour.” His voice sounding so sweet.

You let out a very dramatic, exaggerated sigh as you fall on your back bouncing a bit from impact. “You’re luck you’re cute. Otherwise I would be very angry right now.”

San remained the smirk on his face as he adjusted the rifle and settled into position. “Oh, so you think I’m cute?” The cold metal pressed against his cheek as he peered once more through the scope. The target was all alone in his office, all clear in the view, oblivious on what’s about to happen. “I’m flattered.” He teased at you, voice was light as he tracked his target’s movements.

“Pfft,” you let out as you playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it get it your head.” You tried replying with a serious tone but he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, what are you doing right now?” You asked him.

San hesitated for a split second as he looks around. “Just… working.” He said vaguely, his tone softening as his thumb gently adjusted the scope’s zoom.

“Hmm,” you mused. “Well, don’t work too hard now. You better be taking care of yourself, okay?”

San’s smile faltered for a moment, guilt creeping in. “Don’t worry. I am.” He says. He realized he can’t do this if you’re on the phone, distracting him. "Listen, beautiful, I have to go—Boss is coming in." He lies to you.

“Okay.” You sighed out the word as you sat up, shoulders slumped as you gnawed on your lip. “How about if I call you tonight?” He asked you, hated hearing your sad tone. You quickly perked up, “Okay! Perfect.” You gleamed. “I’ll be waiting for you then, bye!” He laughed at your switch up reaction when you hung up quickly—as if time will go faster.

Through the scope, he saw that his target stood up, walking to the window. San adjusted himself in position, his breathing slowed down as his finger hovered over the trigger. All the noise went silent as he exhaled steadily, aiming at the man’s chest.

With practice precision, he tightened the trigger. The sound of the shot radiated through the night. Instantly, the man collapsed to the floor, blood oozing out of his chest. San kept his eyes on the body, making sure the job was completed. He exhaled slowly as he stood, hand already disassembling the rifle. He felt all the tension just leaving his body.

He places everything back in its spot in the case, packing up. He stands up, stretching his neck and staring in the far distance as the night breeze blows, running a hand through his hair. He grabs the case and disappears into the shadow of the night. This was just the beginning but he was going to get it all done—for you.

The following missions were a blur of danger and exhaustion. Every single target pushed San to his breaking point both physically and mental limit—testing his resolve in ways he could have never imagined. One night he was in hand to hand fight in a warehouse, barely avoiding a knife to his ribs to another night infiltrating a high security party, he smoothing past through the guards and tight knit surveillance to drop a pill in his target’s drink.

The elevator doors open revealing a different atmosphere in the bar tonight. He turns to the side and spots Lee at the center, nursing the same drink as always with a cigar in his other hand. Hearing the elevator door close, Lee turns and gives a smile when he spots San.

San approached him. “Boss.” He says firmly, standing in the position of attention, hands behind his back.

“There he is!” Lee exclaimed as he stands up and grabs San’s face with a huge smile on his face. “The man who did the impossible.” Lee turns to the bartender, “One more glass.”

“Come sit, sit,” he waves San over and taps the stool next to him. “Always so stiff.” Lee mumbled to himself as he raised the glass to his lips and takes a sip.

San was hesitant, but he eventually slid into the stool, dragging it closer inward. He watches as his boss poured him a glass with a smile on his face—almost as if he was a proud father.

“So,” Lee began, placing the bottle down as he leaned back in chair studying San with a sadden gaze. “How does it feel, mm? You’re finally free.”

San chuckles softly as he grabs the glass and takes a sip, the burn of the alcohol makes his face scrunch up slightly. “It feels… foreign. But,” he looks at Lee, “I’m ready.”

Lee chuckles and pats his arm. “I know you are.” He sighs as he swirled the liquid in his glass, “You’ve grown, so much. You deserve this new life, San. I mean it. Love it to the fullest.” He turned to face him and raised his glass for a toast. “To a new chapter”

They clinked glasses, the sound echoing softly in the quiet bar. For the first time in years, San felt the weight on his shoulders begin to lift. He was finally free. After a while of talking, San decided it was time to go home—you.

But Lee stops him. “San,” he calls to him. San stops in his steps, turning around to face him. “Yes, sir?”

Lee chuckles softly at the name. “You know that if you need anything—anything at all—I will always be here for you.”

San smiles, nodding. “Thank you, sir.” And with that he leaves rushing to go see you.

That same night he went to your apartment and official asked you to be his and this time he stayed with you.

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

The early stages of your relationship with San were of course, the sweetest. You both loved falling in love with each other and discovering new things or habits from one another. You loved the balance you both had in the relationship.

From the random, sleep deprived 2am conversations such as asking if you were a fly would he still be your boyfriend to which he replied saying, “Why would you be a fly to begin with?” Which prompt you sit up in your bed, clutching onto the phone saying, “Answer the question!”

“I mean–I guess, right?” He shrugged. “Are you serious? You guess?! I would take care of you, make sure you were fed on whatever fly eats…” You started rambling which San groan lightly as he rub his face, this is going to be a long night, he thought to himself.

To making core memories in the rain, trying to replicate like those dramatic kissing scenes in movies only for you two to scream in fear when thunder radiated throughout the night as you two ran for shelter, catching your breaths only to look at each and laugh, “We’re so stupid.” You say through your laughs, panting.

Or his favorite moments is when you would come by his new job at the tire shop unexpectedly and would have lunch with him. “Hey,” you greeted him on the phone as you leaned your back on your car, “I got the stuff.”

He sneered at your comment as you hung up the phone. He went and washed his hands, stepping outside as he dried his hands with a paper towel. He spots you outside your car, doing a little beckoning dance with both sandwiches in each hand to which he chuckled as he got close.

“Thank you for the food.” He whispers to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he takes the food from your hand. You smiled at him, “Of course.” You two then headed to a bench where you threw one leg over his and started catching him up on your work’s fresh gossip.

“And then she was like, “I’m not putting up with your shit.” Can you believe she said that?” You tell San as you take a bite out of your food.

“No way she said that to her boss. She’s crazy for doing that.” San said trying to give his input but in reality he could give a shit, but seeing you all passionate in your story made him smile.

You looked at him with widen eyes, covering your food filled mouth, “That’s what I said! She’s crazy.” Your words came out muffled as you shook your head.

Or when he notices your car needs gas so he goes with you and does everything for you so you don’t have to worry about a thing. He gets an idea, smirking as he taps on your passenger window, asking you to put it down. “Never seen a beautiful girl like you here before.” He leans on the car, getting a good view.

You give him a stank face as you dropped your phone, crossing your arms. “I have a boyfriend.” Scoffing at him.

“Oh, do you?” He tilts his head to the side, “Where is he?” He asked, hands leaning in the car.

“Please, you would be scared of him. He can beat your ass. Now, shoo shoo, please.” You waved him off, raising the window. San scoffed and took out the keys and unlocked the door, opening it as you gasped in shock, “My boyfriend–“

“Won’t do anything.” He cuts you off and kisses you, causing you to smile into it. He breaks the kiss and pouts, “You would let the man kiss you that easily?” You rolled your eyes and kissed his pout.

Or the serious moments you two had with one another in the car when he was dropping you off or when you were in your house, sitting closely together. You two would ask each other deep questions like what you want from this relationship, do you want marriage, kids, are you happy with the jobs you have, is there more you want from life helping you two bring out new perspectives and experiences in these conversations.

Or when making huge decisions, such as moving in together. San has decided to ask you a little into the two years of your relationship, wanting to take it to the next level. It was an exciting time when you both went apartment hunting and finally found one that spoke to you both.

You both had taken your time in being organize for the move, checking what is to throw away or donate, labeling the boxes, getting caught up in tape at times. When the moving truck came, San had taken the heavy boxes while you dragged some and some of the movers helped you pick it up.

When it was time, San closed the truck and you two followed them to your new apartment. It was a sight to see San getting a frustrated when he was struggling to set up the new sofa, rereading the instructions for the 20th time. Meanwhile you were organizing and taking things out the boxes, trying to not make it obvious that you were laughing.

You cleared your throat when a laugh erupted deep from your throat causing him to give you a look, “You think this is funny?” He asks you all frustrated as he drops the stupid paper of instructions.

You sighed a smile as you walked to him. You know he’s just exhausted and frustrated from the move, he’s not trying to take it out on you. You extend your hand to him and helped him up, “Baby, I know you’re frustrated. It’s okay.” Your hands roam his back.

You then take both of his hands and walked backwards, guiding him to the bedroom. “The bed is made, right? Why don’t we double check that it’s secure?” You smiled at him which made him bit his lower lips, smirking, as he closed the door behind him.

Don’t worry, the bed was secure and the sofa was soon built.

—

Like many other relationship, there were the hard times—Arguments which were just the worst. Take tonight for example when you coworkers had invite you and San to this new sports bar and they just so happen to invite one of their friends, who was very friendly to San—who by the way was blinded by her actions.

“No way, so you work at a tire shop?” Jina said she leaned closer to San, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think that’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to learn how to change a tire, maybe you can help me?” She flirtatiously blinks her eyes twice, looking up at him.

Ugh, you think to yourself as you angrily chewed off a piece of celery you dipped in ranch. You rolled your eyes as you look to side, but everyone was too caught in their respective conversations to notice. “Surprisingly it’s not that hard.” He smiled at her, “I’m sure you can do it.”

You are certainly amazed at how strong the cup is because your tight ass grip feels like it can shatter it at any moment. You take a sip of your beer, trying to calm down when she placed her hand on his bicep. “You’re so sweet,” she chuckles at him as she flicks her hair back, “But I definitely need some guidance.”

He just smiles at her, taking a sip of his drink. She looks at you, “Oh, Y/N, you’re very lucky,” she gives you a smile as she looks back at him. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

You flash her a sarcastic smile, mocking her head tilt and toke of voice, “Mm, yes, I am the luckiest. He’s the best.” Bitch.

—

Throughout the entire night Jina continued with her flirtatious ways. Every time San would make joke, she laughed a little too hard as she playfully slapped his arm, covering her mouth. Or when she would excuse herself to the restroom, she would use that moment to brush up against him, using his shoulders for support as some people walked past her. Or when she would scoot her chair closer to San.

At this point, saying your patience was wearing thin was an understatement. You knew San wasn’t letting her do this, he was oblivious to everything and tried remaining polite because he did not want to disrespect your coworkers or ruin the night.

—

You stepped into the apartment, angrily removing your shoes, using the wall for support. You shook off your coat and hung it with attitude on the rack as you started walking to the bedroom.

San eyed you up and down, trying to figure out why you’re acting like this. “Are you okay?” He raised an eyebrow as he took off his coat.

“Yeah.” You say dryly as you walked to the room. He throws his head back and sighs in frustration, “Baby, talk to me.” He shouts to you but you just ignore him.

He walks into the room, seeing that you changed into an oversized tee shirt. Dumping your dirty clothes in the hamper, you walked to the bathroom. “Baby, what’s going on?” He asked you softly, following you.

You stopped your actions and gave him a look, “Why don’t you ask Jina?” You say spitting out her name like poison as you kept walking to the bathroom.

He stands there all confused, “Jina? Why would I ask her?” He asked you genuinely confused which only fueled your frustration even more.

You scoffed as you bend down, grabbing your makeup remover from underneath. “Are you serious San?” You turned to him, “Jina was basically throwing herself on you the entire night.”

You opened your cleansing balm, scooping some and angrily rubbed your face. “Y/N, she was just being nice. That’s it.” He tells you as he crossed his arms.

You let out a humorless laugh, “Oh please San, nice?” You tell him as you put water on your face and took off the balm. “Oh, you work on cars? Let me just laugh hard at all your jokes, place my hand on you, brush up against you and disrespect your girlfriend in her face.” You mocked her tone of voice. “She was all over you tonight.”

He sighed, “Baby, she wasn’t—“ San started but stopped in his words when you stopped drying your face to give him a pissed off look, “Okay, maybe she was being too friendly. But I wasn’t paying attention to her like that at all.”

You scoffed out, shaking your head. “No, I can definitely tell by the way you just kept letting her.” You turned off the bathroom lights and brushed past him, standing by the dresser as you take off your earrings. “You didn’t even bother to notice the way she kept touching you, or the way she was moving closer to you—“ You shook your head, trying to stop your tears, “How do you think that made me feel?” Your voice trembled.

His heart breaks at the tone of your voice. He walks up to you and cups your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I only spoke to her because it was your coworker’s friend, that’s it.” He whispers to you, looking deep into your eyes. “You know that you’re the only one for me. The only one I care about.”

You removed yourself from his grasp, turning around and pinching your nose bridge as the hot tears formed. “It didn’t feel like it tonight.”

San looks at you with sad eyes. He hates it when he is the reason as to why you’re hurt. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. “I never meant to make you upset or uncomfortable. I promise you that this won’t happen ever again.”

“You promise?” You asked him once more and he turns you around, smiling at you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “I promise.” He tells you, nodding.

He leans in to kiss you and you stop him with your forefinger, “Um, just cause this argument is over doesn’t mean I’m over it. ” You tell him sassily and he laughs, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, can I show you another way on how sorry I am?” He raised an eyebrow as he got on his knees, keeping the eye contact with you. His hands roam the back of your legs as you threw your head back in frustration, you have no restraint.

Throughout the past five years you two have grown and changed so much in your relationship and in your own personal lives. You are so happy that San is in your life and vice versa. He truly couldn’t believe how drastically his life has changed. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The sound of the sizzling meat filled the cozy silence in the room while the aroma filled up your senses. San stood by the stove in a black tank top with a rag draped over his shoulder with a concentrated look on his face as he grabbed the handle of the pan, tilting it to scoop up the melted butter and oil mixture with a spoon to drench the meat with practiced ease.

You were sat upon the counter with one leg propped up as you leaned your chin on your knee, scrolling through your phone. You slightly chuckled at some funny videos on your feed, calling San's attention to show him. Everything seemed completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

San lived for these peaceful moments with you. He went back to focusing on his cooking but from the corner of his eye he saw his phone lighting up, slightly moving from the vibration. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be a coworker calling to cover their shift but he felt his body go cold when he saw the number flashing across the screen.

Lee.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Five years. It's been five years since he last spoke to him—since he last saw him. He felt a ringing coming into his ears. "Babe?" You looked up from your phone when you noticed his sudden stillness, "Everything okay?"

The ringing fades as he clears his throat. "Yeah, baby." He lies as he forced a quick smile, turning off the stove. He grabbed the phone and turned to you, giving you a kiss which causes you to smile. "It's just one of the guys from work. I'll be back." He smiles at you as he heads to the bedroom, "Can you set up the table, please?"

You playfully groan as you hopped of the counter. "I have to do everything myself." You sarcastically say as you opened the cabinet and grabbed two plates. "Of course I can." You smirked at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice." He winks at you. His expression turns serious as he turns around and picks up the pace, stepping into the bedroom. He gently shuts the door and looks down to his phone, seeing that Lee is calling again. He gulps as he picks up, raising the phone to his ear. "Lee?" He whispers.

"San." The familiar deep voice makes a shiver run down San's spine as San gulps down the nerves. On the opposite side of the phone, Lee stood in-front of his ceiling to floor windows in his office, looking out into the night. "It's been a while."

San takes a few steps to the center of the room, eyes roaming around as his breath hitched. "Five years." His throat tightened. "Why-Why are you calling me?"

Lee lets out a sigh, looking down to the floor feeling remorse. "People are looking for you, San." He answers him. San eyes widened at his words, feeling the whole world stop. "They are looking for revenge."

A million thoughts were rushing in his head. He lets out a disbelief scoff as he walks to the bed and sits down, feeling his head spinning. "Revenge?" He whispered in wariness. "What do you mean? I don't understand." One moment he is cooking and wanting to have a nice dinner with you to the next, getting told people are out to kill him.

"San, the men I ordered you to kill—" He cuts himself off with a sigh as he closes his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in regret. "Their people are looking for you. Someone tipped me off and San— it's serious. You need to disappear. Now."

San looks at the phone as if Lee would see his face of-are-you-insane. He shakes his head and lets out a scoff. "What? I can't just-"

"You don't have a choice, San." Lee interrupted him, raising his tone. "They are coming for you, do you understand what I'm saying?" Lee looks behind him, making sure no one in the room. "They will come for her." He whispered into the phone.

San head shoots up to the door and stares at it. Just on the other side you are setting up the table, oblivious to everything that is happening. He wants to fucking scream at the top of his lungs and punch the wall. "San," Lee's voice takes him out of his thoughts of these people hurting you. “This is something worst than anything we have ever dealt with. I'll be giving you two weeks to get everything sorted out. You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead.

San felt the world falling and crushing his soul. He dropped his arm, causing his phone to drop on the floor as he spaced out. This can't be happening, he thinks to himself. Everything he worked so hard for was just ripped from him in a heartbeat.

A knock on the door caused him to look up. "Is everything okay? What did work want?" You asked him as you walked to him, cupping his face to make him look up at you. "The table is set. Just waiting for the chef to serve the food." You smirked as you straddled him.

He smirks at you as he wraps his arms around your waist. "My apologizes, madam. We are a little backed up today. Can you forgive me?" He jokes with you. As he stares into your eyes, he feels everything falling around him knowing that he soon won't have these moments with you.

"Yes, I forgive you." You kissed his lips, chuckling lightly. You caressed his head as you looked into his eyes, "All good with work?" You asked once more.

He nods. "Yeah. It was just my boss calling to see if I can pick some extra shifts. Some of my coworkers have called out so I'm the only option."

You pouted as you slouched a bit. "I'm sorry. I know how much it frustrates you when you have to take more shifts." You peck his lips. He wished that was the actual reason.

He shakes his head. "It's okay." He smiles. He then stands up with you still in his hold causing you to wrap your legs around him. "I'm starving. I heard the chef was super handsome and an excellent cook."

You giggled. "Must've heard the opposite." You teased him. He gives you a deadpan look as he stopped in his steps. "Remind me why I'm feeding you?" He askes you with a glare. You then placed a loving kiss on his cheek. Now, he remembers why.

Later that night, you two were in bed. You had long fallen asleep all cuddled up on his chest as San stares into the ceiling. He turns to the side and looks down at your face, taking in your light snores as he gently places a kiss on your forehead. He knows what he has to do.

—

DURING THE FIVE YEARS

The following day, San entered his job with his hands tucked into his front pockets as he gave a small smile and nod to his passing coworkers as he headed to his boss's office. The scent of rubber and motor oil entered his nostrils as he knocked on the door.

A muffled come in was heard and San let out a breath as he twisted the knob, entering the office. His boss looked up from the paper work in his hand and gives him a smile as he takes off his glasses, "San!" He beamed as he stood up. "How are you, son? You don't work today, right?"

San closes the door, the sounds of the shop fades away. He gives him a sad smile, hands behind his back as he stands up straight. "I just, um," San clears his throat. "I need to talk to you."

His boss nods as he gestures to the chair in-front of his desk, "Of course. Please, sit and tell me." His boss tells him, scooting in his own chair and intertwining his hands.

He watched as San sits down and looks at him, firmly saying, “I’m quitting.”

His boss shakes his head both taken aback and sadden at the news. "What? Why? Did someone say something to you? Did something happen?" He bombarded him with questions, feeling whiplashed.

San stays quiet, contemplating if he should tell him or not. “I have to go somewhere for a while and I have a favor to ask of you.“ his voice was low. His boss nods, listening intently, "People are going to come in here and ask of me, you will tell them that you do not know who I am. If Y/N comes in, you will tell her the same thing. Understood?”

His boss was taken aback, nervously chuckling thinking it's a joke San is trying to pull. "You’re worrying me San,” he scratched the back of his head. But San remains serious causing his boss to lean forward, “You’re–You’re being serious? San, what is going on?”

San reached into his jacket, taking out an orange envelope and placed it in-front of his boss. His boss looks unsure until San nods at him causing him to hesitatingly pick up the envelope, opening it and widens his eyes at the stack of cash.

He looks between the cash and San’s serious expression with widen eyes. “That is for your troubles.” San said to him.

“Just promise me that you will do what I ask of you. Especially for Y/N. Remove me from photos, throw anything of mine away—nothing must stay. Please tell this to the rest of the guys.” San tells him.

His boss slowly nods in shock as he watches San stand up and walk to the door. He drops the money and quickly gets in front of him, holding onto his arms, “San, are you in trouble? Are you going to be okay?” His boss asked him.

“I will be okay, but for everyone’s safety it’s best if no one knows. Forgive me for putting you through all of this.” He gives him a sad smile and opens the door but looks back at his boss one last time, “I know you won’t understand but thank you. Thank you for being a great boss and for giving me a sense of normalcy.”

And with that San heads out the door ignoring his boss calling out to him. His boss sighs in defeat as he watched him disappeared. He truly admired him like a son of his own so this good bye pains him.

He cleaned his throat as he claps his hands getting everyone’s attention. “Everyone, team meeting! Gather around.” He wants to help San but knows that he can’t so he will do his part here until San returns.

—

Every night that lead up to the finale night with you killed him inside. It was hard to him to keep his composure when he was around you. When it was time, he just wanted to run away with you and live the life he envisions with you—but no, not yet. Just once more he has to go back to who he was and pray you will forgive him when he comes back.

As he walked down the apartments hallway, he just shook his head of his emotions. And just like that, he was back into the killer he was. He gently closed the apartment door, sighing heavy as he stood there for a moment. His hand runs down the door as he mentally says goodbye to everything he had.

He then heads downstairs, pushing the complex’s front doors revealing Lee. He stood outside the sleek black car while to of his men stood beside him. He slowly approached him, both of them not uttering a single word before Lee broke the tension and pulled him into a hug.

“San,” he whispered into his ear. San slowly wrap his arms around him and pats his back, still silent. “I’m so sorry.” Lee tells him and released the embrace, holding on his arms, “Come on. Let’s talk.” He nods to the car.

San watched as one of his men opened the door for him but took one last glance at the apartment window. I’m so sorry, he thought to himself. He sighed and headed inside the car.

—

During the drive, San looked out the window and watched the city he knew fade as they drove further away. Lee snaps his fingers which prompted the man in the passenger seat to give him a stack of folders. “San.” Lee calls to him.

When San sees the amount of folders, it’s takes all within him to not stomp like a child. He sneakily rolls his eyes as he grabs the folders from his hands. "These are all the people who are looking for you." Lee says. "Names, locations—everything you need to know is all in there."

Familiar words that put him here in the first place.

San’s stomach churned as he flips through the pages. These people weren’t just any petty criminals—no, these were some next level powerful criminals disguised as people in power. “You aren’t alone in this. We will get through this.” Lee reassured San as he lights up a cigar.

San just ignored Lee, not really wanting to talk about this right now. He clenched his jaw, “I need a favor,” he tells Lee who raised an eyebrow at him. “I need you to clear off my name in the system. No records, no loose ends—I need to disappear completely."

Lee studied him for a moment before nodding. “Consider it done.”

—

San didn’t get a wink of sleep, seeing the room slowly get brightened up by the sun through the small window. Lee had put him in a safe house in an abandoned corner of the city. As the light peers in, his heart crushes at the thought that it’s morning and you are about to find out.

He took advantage of the night and plastered the photos of his targets all over the walls. Their faces were lined up next to one another with their profile and description of crimes scribbled on them with red ink as sticky tabs surrounded them. The table was in a chaos of folders, maps that had markings of last known locations, more photos, hide outs, and extra information on sticky notes.

Meanwhile San was on the floor, shirtless as the sweat on his body glistened as his chest heavies while doing push ups. He lets out groans and grunts in sharp breaths, ignoring the burning sensation in his muscles.

“You reach out to her, you put her in danger.” Lee’s voice popped up in his head when he thought about you. His arms trembling from exhaustion, but he didn’t care—he had to get stronger for you. The haunting of Lee’s words pushed him harder.

Feeling as if it wasn’t enough, he stands up and wasted no time in jumping up to grip the bar that was bolted to the ceiling. He controlled his breathing as he did his pulls ups, staring directly to his first targets eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he walked to the worn out punching bag that was hung in the corner. He closed his eyes as he rolled his shoulders, opening them as he went straight into punching the bag. With each punch, he pictured the lowlife’s face giving quick and brutal combinations.

The bag jerked around with every hit that released all the anger and frustration as he screamed out loud. The hits become harder and faster—his skin all raw and broken around the knuckles. Sweat flying everywhere, some from his brow dripping down to his chest.

Lee’s voice came back to him, sharper now. “She’ll be dragged into this if you’re not careful.” San froze for a second, his fist resting against the bag, his breath heavy. He could see you so clearly in his mind, your smile and laughter when you tilt your head back.

He then pictured someone taking that away from him which just caused him to punch the bag with all his force, causing the bag to split open as the sand poured out like waterfall to the floor.

He stood over it as he watched it fall out, chest heaving. No. He can’t let himself think of that, he can’t fall into that weakness. He wipes his face with his forearm as he turned around and sat on the chair next to the table.

He leaned back as he hissed in pain when he tried closing his hands. He looks down and saw how bloody and irritated his knuckles were. He groans as he throws his head back and tries catching his breath.

After a moment, he controls his breathing and turns his head to the table then to the wall. He sits up and darkened his dark eyes to his first target—his expression hard as stone. He’s going to kill them all, every single one of them.

—

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into years since he began—since he last saw you. Little by little he’s completing his job but he can’t help but to feel so fucking upset at how long it has taken. But no matter how exhausted he is, you were his motivation to keep going.

There are countless nights when he lies in bed and skims through his photo gallery. He misses the way your smile reached your eyes, he missed the playful banter you two had with one another, misses your habits—everything. He would sad smile at the photos you were pissed off with him making a goofy smile because he most likely did something to annoy you.

Throughout the years, he would try convincing himself that you were okay. But when he went to check your socials, you were no where to be found. You were gone. Every account deactivated, every trace of you wiped clean from the digital world. It was like you’d vanished.

It killed him inside but he was feeling selfish because he did this to you but far worst. He spent days fighting the urge to just go and see you and when he found the courage, Lee would pop into his head.

But today, he cannot hold himself back. Fuck Lee right now. He drove with anxiety coursing in his body. He wondered how you are? Are you dating? Do you have a boyfriend? He gripped the steering wheel at the thought of you with another man. Are you happy? Are you still working at the same place?

But honestly, nothing could prepare him for what was to come of you. He sees you walking out of your job and you just looked absolutely miserable. The light in your eyes, gone. The smile he adored, nonexistent. You looked so broken and exhausted—his heart felt like it was ripped out and stabbed as he felt tears coming in. It was all his fault.

He turns off the car and heads out, tears streaming as he shoves through people saying sorry as he looks at your walking figure. Just when he is about to reach out, he freezes in his steps. He can’t. The people engulf around him as he watches you walk further. You sensed someone looking at you and turned around but no one. Meanwhile San hide behind a building, catching his breath as he slides down the wall crying.

He just wanted to run up to you and hold you and explain everything to you. Since that day, he always kept an eye on you. There were days when you all cooped up in the apartment with curtains closed or stayed at work until closing.

Whenever he would see you coming out the complex, he had to do everything to calm down. His heart would twist painfully when he saw the emptiness in the way you moved—just going through the motions of life and every time he would hate himself more and more.

—

One afternoon, when he went to go see you he felt the world stopping around him. The sight of a moving truck parked outside makes his stomach drop. His mouth parted when he saw you coming out the building, using your back to open the door as you held a box in your hands.

You were leaving.

He feels like he’s losing you all over again. He watches as you hand the box to the mover with a tight smile and head back inside. He soon remembers when you two moved in now fading into this memory—something beautiful to something broken.

He can’t help it but to stay. Once you were done, he watched you hand the key to the building representative—the same one who welcomed you both the first day—and hugged her. When the truck pulls out, he stays behind them in a safe distance.

San slapped his hand on the steering wheel as he starts crying. All he wanted—dreamt of— was a normal life with you and now everything is being taken away from him again. He can’t stop himself—he can’t let you go not when you are slipping further and further from him.

When you arrived to your new building, he looks as you unpacked the truck. In that moment he decided that he will leave you alone and come back stronger and better for you. He will complete this for you.

—

It had a been a whole year since he last saw you. He was determined to finish this already. Just one more and that was it.

It was nighttime and San was in a deep sleep in bed—until he felt his phone vibrate underneath his pillow causing him to stir to the side and go back to sleep. But then the person called again causing him to groan as he turns around and grab his phone.

He squints and looks away, the brightness burning his eyes. He then blinks a few times and looks at the screen again, seeing that Lee was calling him.

He sighs as he falls back on his back, placing his free arm over his eyes as he picks up the phone, “Hell–“

“They know about her.” Lee cuts off San, panting. On the other side, Lee was rushing to his office as he pointed to his men where to go and what to do. San sat up as he processed his words, his voice caught in his throat. “San,” Lee stops in his tracks, “they will kill her.”

San stayed quiet, his eyes roaming around in the darkness. They found you. They know of you. It’s only a matter of time before they get you. San felt so overwhelmed in his emotions—everything he tried to suppress just dissolved into raw, unrelenting anger that he didn’t know to react.

He just went blank.

“San? Are you ther–“ he hangs up the phone causing Lee to let out a scream of frustration as he calls him again but it went straight to voicemail. San removed his blanket, adrenaline shooting in his veins as he storms to the back of the safe house.

His breathing was starting to get uneven as he grabbed a sledgehammer that was leaning against the wall. And with one heavy swing, he shattered the concrete floor—fragments fly out with each stroke that got harder and angrier than the previous one.

Soon enough, a hidden compartment was revealed. He kneeled on the floor, removing the rubble with his hand as he puts in a code to which the box unlocks revealing a variety of weapons—firearms, knives, ammunition.

His fingers traced over the weapons with precision as he selected the ones he needed. He walked back and forth as he gently placed each weapon on the floor on top of a rag in the center of the room.

He throughly cleaned each gun and ensured each were working in order. He moved with swiftness as he tested the mechanics—sharpening the knives, moving them in his hand to make sure they are comfortable in his grip. He loaded the magazines with ease, wanting to make sure everything was perfect for tonight.

This was the most terrifying state San has been. His mind was blank, no expression on his face, emotions were just gone. All he can focus on was one singular thing—every one of them must die. He wasn’t going to wait any longer, he will take them by surprise tonight.

Once everything was prepared, he got dressed in all black, adjusting the straps of his tactical gear, checking each weapon holstered at his side. He sling the bag that carried the guns and started to leave but not before he spotted an extra knife on the table.

He grabs it and looks up at the photo of the man who he was going to kill tonight. In one swift throw, aiming it between the eyes, it landed right where he wanted it. He was out for blood.

—

San had stormed into the abandoned factory that served as their hideout. Under the cover of the night he moved like a ghost through the shadows. He was like a predator who was silent and deadly with nothing to lose. The dagger in his hand gleamed in the dim light as he gripped it tightly, his gun holstered on his hip.

The first man never saw it coming—San approached him from behind, quickly covering the man’s mouth he jabbed the knife into his throat. He slowly and gently laid the body down without any noise, removing the knife as moved to his next location with precision with sharp eyes scanning every corner.

San hid as he counted the amount of men standing around. But soon enough he heard the commotion of voices yelling that someone intruded the warehouse which made the standing men on guard as they looked around, spotting San. “Over there!”

Gunfire erupted as they all pointed in the direction of San, but he didn’t flinch at the sounds instead he returned the fire with accuracy—watching the bodies drop one by one. His adrenaline was so high he didn’t even feel the bullet that grazed his arm.

Finally, one man left and unfortunately for him, he was all out of bullets. But fortunate for San as he grabs him and pins him against the wall, the man quickly surrendering as he lifts his trembling hands in fear. “Where is he?” San growled at the man with a gun to his forehead.

The just let out incoherent whimpers in fear as he shook his head. San didn’t have time to deal with this so he just knocked the guy out with the end of the gun and let him drop to the floor as he moved on. The further he moved in the building, the more the bodies piled up. Not once did he hesitate nor falter in his actions.

San was blinded by anger—he saw red in everything. With every face, San raised his weapon against it. It wasn’t until every single one of the men were either knocked out or dead. Finally, he reached the main office at the end of a hall to which he kicked open the door with such force that it almost came off its hinges.

Inside, cowering behind the desk, was the leader of the operation-His last target. He yelled in fright at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. He peaks over the table and lets out a shaky breath as he slowly stands up, raising his hands in surrender.

San slowly steps inside, eyes trained on the man, blood soaked into his clothes dripping on his hands as he grips the knife. The flickering bulb in the room made him appear even more terrifying, few cuts on his face-light casting shadows on his face with each movement towards the man.

The man lets out a nervous chuckle, hands still raised. "San," he gives him a nervous smile, “P-please,” the man stammered, his voice shaking. “We didn’t mean— I mean, I didn’t—”

He falls to his knees and bows as tears fall to the floor when San walks around the table and stands in front of him. The man looks up to san and collapsed his hands together, pleading to him. “P-please, San… I-I didn’t mean it! I never touched her! It—it was just leverage! Just words!”

San stayed silent as his sharp eyes bore into the crying man. He grabs his knife and slowly turns it in his hand making it catch the faint glint of the light. He crouches down to the man's level, lifting his chin up with the tip of the knife. “I spent the last five years making sure she was protected,” San spoke lowly, “Yet you still tried to make her part of your sick game. Thinking of her to begin with was your first mistake.”

San feels something within him come undone as he grabs a fistful of hair and aggressively forces the man up, causing him to scream out in pain and fear. San shoved him to the chair behind him and stabs the knife into his thigh, “You know what happens to men like you?” He whispered taunting him, leaning close to his face.

The man lets out a blood curdling scream, lips quivered as he stammered out, “I—please, I’ll leave the country! I’ll disappear! I’ll—”

San lets out a manic laugh as he stood up, "You'll disappear?" He mocked the man. "You're right. You will disappear and I will make sure of it." San said emotionless.

He slides out another knife from behind and stabs through the man's hand and wooden chair rest making him scream. “You think you can threaten her and walk away breathing?” San grabs the man by the side of his face and shoved his head to the side and repeatedly slams his head against the desk.

He lets him go and watched the man lean back in the chair catching his breath. San grabs him by the shirt and the man starts to sob out, “It wasn’t me! It—it was the others! I swear!”

San tilts his head to the side slightly, giving him a faint humorless smile. "The others are dead." His voice low, "All that is left is just you."

He lets him go and takes out his gun, "You know, you talk so much shit yet," San looks at him, "you're nothing but a coward. Threatening to harm the woman I love just to get to me? Pathetic." He spat out.

The man starts screaming out in agony and fright when he sees San preparing the gun and cocking it back—his scream echoed the empty halls. He circled around the man like a predator stalking its prey. “You don’t understand, please!” The man shouted as he gasped for air from the overwhelming pain he’s in. “I didn’t mean it! I was never going to hurt her or kill her! I promise you!”

"You think I give a fuck about what you meant?" He spat at him. “You wanted to hurt her,” San said, his tone dropping dangerously low. “And I’ll make sure no one will ever speaks of her name again.”

He extends his are out and the cold metal touched the forehead of the man, his finger resting lightly on trigger. The man widens his eyes, desperation flickers behind them a he shakes his head, “Please I–“

The sound of the gunshot resonated throughout the room and then—silence. San stumbles back in exhaustion and lets out a sigh of relief. He is free. He feels the weight coming off his shoulders. He can come home to you.

—

San staggers out the building, feeling his adrenaline leaving as he limps side to side. Holding onto his arm, feeling the pain of the graze and his body screaming in aching pain. His breaths were short and sharp as he tried keeping his vision clear.

The faint roaring of engines from the distance reached his ears making him look up. He squints at the bright headlights coming close. Soon black trucks speed to the scene, tires screeching as they come to a sudden stop, doors sliding open as men poured out the cars in suits and weapons attached to their bodies rushed past him and into the building.

San didn't even have to look to know who it was. He was just focused on making sure his legs don’t give up on him as his vision started blurring from exhaustion. A sleek black car skidded to a halt in front of him causing him to stop in steps. Lee then emerges out the car with a worried look on his face as he rushed to San.

“San!” Lee’s voice was sharp but softened as he reached him. Lee quickly removed his coat and draped it over San and without hesitation, pulled him into his embrace. Feeling safe now, San's legs give out, both of them sinking to the ground as Lee held him tightly. "It's over, son," Lee said softly in his ear, voice filled with relief that he was okay. "It's over."

San didn't respond immediately, his head resting against Lee's shoulder as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh through his shallow breaths, "It's over." San said hoarsely, a single tear fell down his cheek, cutting through the blood and slightly stinging the small cuts.

Everything was blur as San started to close his eyes of exhaustion. Lee's men shouting and rushing to secure the scene before the police came. Lee yelling for medical treatment for San and soon enough they draped his arms over their shoulders and helped him up and into the car.

Finally, he can go back to you.

—

HE RETURNS

It's been a week since everything has finally ended. San stands outside in his car, staring at what use to be his home for the past five years-the safe house. He nods, thinking to himself that it is time to go. He gets into car and drives off—leaving this part of his life for good.

The welcome sign of your city gets him both nervous and excited. He puts on the turning signal as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, cozy hotel and checks in. He places his bags down on the floor and unlocks the door, taking in the room. He breaths in and breaths out, happy to be back in somewhat of normalcy.

He grabs his bags and placed them on the small sofa near the window. He wasted no time in unpacking and making the room feel settled in. After he was done, he grabbed a white envelope and checks inside before tucking it in his jacket. There is something important he needs to take care of.

—

The bells chimed softly as San stepped inside the jewelry shop. He takes in the smell of of the shop as he scans the variety of cases that display beautiful shimmering gems and jewels of every color you can imagine.

"May I help you, sir?" A sweet lady comes up to him with a warm smile and hands behind her back.

San takes off his glasses and looks at her, returning a smile. "Yes," he cleared his throat. Despite the nerve wrecking feeling in his chest, her grandmotherly presence help put him at ease a bit. "I'm looking for an engagement ring. But it needs to be elegant, unique, or—no—special. Something special." His voice softened as he rambled a bit, scratching the back of his head.

The woman covered her lips with her hand as she chuckled lightly. "No need to worry," Her eyes twinkled with understand as he reassured him. She beckoned him to follow her to a display case, "Come. Let's see what we can find for you."

It must've been hours at this point and San has never been more confused over raindrop shape or pear shape, square or cushion. It felt like smoke was coming out of his ears, feeling stressed over wanting to get the perfect ring for you as the woman carefully laid out a selection of rings, explains the cuts, the settings, and the stones.

But throughout this whole process, his eyes kept drifting to a particular ring—a large square shape with two small ones on each side with a platinum band with smaller diamonds that twinkled like stars on it.

"That one." he said pointing to it. "That's the one for her." He felt the ring calling to him.

The woman's eyes followed his finger and smiled when she spotted the one he was talking about. She smiled as she went to unlock the case and grabbed the ring, placing it in front of him. “This is our timeless, exquisite piece. Made and crafted for someone special.”

He grabs the ring and brings it up the light. He loves the way it gleams like your eyes. This is the one for you. "She is. She's... my everything." He tells her as he placed the ring back down.

The woman reaches over and patted his arm gently, “She’ll love it.” Her expression softened.

"Good luck, my dear." She cleaned the ring and placed it securely into the velvet box with gloves. "I can tell she's going to say yes." She said as she hands it to him.

He places his sunglasses back on and pockets the velvet box, giving her a smile. "Thank you." He slides her a while envelope, "This is for you by the way." He tells her.

"Oh?" She tilts her head to the side slightly. She looks down and opens it, eyes widening at the amount of money inside, "Sir, I–" She stops in her words when she scans the room, but he is nowhere to be found.

—

It was a few days later and San stood in the distance as he blend in with the parents who were waiting for the school's dismissal. Soon enough the bell echoed throughout the school as kids bursted out with squeals of excitement and parents calling out their kid's name.

San immediately spots you as you opened your classroom door with a bright smile—the same one that captivate him years ago. He watched as you knelt down slightly as you said goodbye to each child with a smile and high five, some with hugs. He couldn't help but to also smile as he saw you in your element, watching you wave to a little girl who ran off giggling.

Your laugh was a melodic sound that he has missed for so long. Slowly the crowd starts to disperse, but he stays rooted in his spot. Finally, after some time, you step out of your classroom, locking it up. He felt time stopping as he watched you let down your hair, running a hand through it as you walked. His breath hitched—you're so beautiful.

It’s like the first day he saw you all over again causing him to be all lovestruck but then—your movements stilled as your eyes narrowed at him direction. He felt his pulse quickening when he saw that you had noticed him.

If it wasn't from the blinding sun and the silver fence that wrapped around the school that was obscuring your view, it would've been game over. His mind was screaming at him to run, to which he did as panic took over him. He got into his car and slammed the door shut, hands on the steering well and he exhaled sharply. “Fuck, that was close.”

—

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't help it. Although, his job is completed, he can't help but to still act in secret. He sneaked into your apartment, wanting to waste no more time and to confess everything to you. His movements were quiet and calculated as he slipped inside, gently closing the door, hearing a soft click.

The moonlight casted into the dark living room, illuminating some spots. Everything he saw was a reflection of you and it made his chest ache. He lifts his head when he hears the sound of water running—she must be showering.

He lets out a slow breath and moved deeper around the apartment with cautious steps. As he turned towards the kitchen, his foot ended up being caught at the corner of the rug making him stumble slightly causing the floor to creak underneath him. He froze, noticing that the shower had stopped.

He then moves to the kitchen, floor creaking with another step causing him to freeze again. His breath hitched in throat as the silence fills up the air. He can hear his heart thudding in his ears when the door of the bathroom creaks open, seeing the light shining in the hallway.

He then heard the faint sounds of your footsteps slowly walking down the hallway. His heart sinks when he sees the gun in your hands—lightly trembling as you stopped in the middle of the entrance.

He watches as your hands move frantically with every shadow you think you see in the room. He feels heartbroken knowing that he is the reason you have a gun—the reason you are like this-he just wants to explain everything to you and hopes that you understand why he did all that he did.

He slowly takes a step back causing the floor to creak once more. He mentally cursed at himself when he saw you pointing the gun to the kitchen, voice full of anger. “Show yourself.”

Slowly, he emerged from the shadows with his hands up. He felt nervous and terrified of the outcome. The way your voice slightly trembled when you asked him who he was, broke him. He closed his eyes and exhaled light, taking one step forward.

“S-San?”

THE END

#ateez reactions #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez san #ateez choi san #san choi #choi san #san imagines #ateez x reader #san ateez #san x reader #ateez masterlist #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines

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lunajay33 · 1 day ago

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Fated

•🪵🦅🍂🤎•

Summary: You grew up being bestfriends with Sam and Dean as your mother would usually help hunt with their dad, but when you find yourselves at college together things change, especially when Dean takes him back hunting

Pairing: Sam Winchester x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

•Masterlist•

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had a die hard crush on Sam, whenever our parents would hunt together they’d leave the three of us in a motel room while they worked a case, it was hard not to fall for Sam he was always so kind and treated me like gold, then eventually we started going to college together both of us were outcasted by our families for doing so, we moved in together for support as we worked in our dreams

Along the way we both confessed

“Sam I know this is your place too but I don’t want you being girls home anymore”

“Why not? Are you jealous?”

“So what if I am, I can’t bare to see you with someone else Sam can’t you see how much I love you?”

And from then on we’ve been attached at the him, any chance he got his hands were placed on me lovingly, as I finished getting ready for bed I pulled on one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, quickly going to our room and jumping in next to him as I cuddle up close

“I love you Angel” he whispered as he placed a kiss to my check squeezing me closer

“And I love you, now let’s get to bed I’ve been feeling groggy all day

He shut off the lamp and he curled around me till I was completely enveloped by him, hearing the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep

•

I woke abruptly at the sound of a crash from downstairs, Sam awake next to me hearing the same thing

We both got our weapons and slowly made our way downstairs, covering each other incase this wasn’t just a plan human invader

Out of nowhere Sam is tackled to the floor and I’m stood there frozen, having been out of the hunting game so long I was actually scared now, before I heard a familiar laugh

“Dean what the hell are you doing here?” Sam groaned as he got up and stood back next to me holding me to his chest obviously noticing my fear

“If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes, missed you around Angel” Dean smirked looking me up and down

“Dean come on”

“Fine, dads missing, he’s been gone for a while now and won’t answer any calls”

“I can’t Dean I’ve got a life here now, I’ve got school and y/n, I can’t just leave”

“She can come too” he said as if I wasn’t even here

“It’s not just dad, it’s your parents too, they went out together” I look up at Sam worried, even if they kicked us out they were still family

“Sam…….” I whisper as he squeezes my hips

“What about school Angel?”

“It’s study break we can spare the week” he sighed in agreement and nodded at Dean, we go upstairs and pack

“I don’t you going” he says

“But I can help it’s my parents too”

“I know but I don’t want to risk your life”

“But…….i don’t wanna be alone” I confessed my fears of being on my own since I’ve always had someone around especially knowing what lurks out there

“It’ll only be a week and I’ll be right back I promise” I knew I couldn’t convince him other wise

“Okay but……call me and please be safe Sam”

“Always am” he kissed me goodbye before him and Dean were gone, the familiar sound of the Chevy impala rumbling away

•

The week went by fast and I was so excited for him to come back, there was a weird feeling around our place and I couldn’t shake it

I pick up the phone and call hoping he’ll be on the other end saying he’s right around the corner

“Hello angel” his voice was higher than usual

“Hey everything okay? Are you coming back now?”

“About that ummm….we couldn’t find them but we got a lead we’re gonna follow it”

“But sam we’ve got school and I don’t feel right, I’m scared”

“What’s a little huntress like yourself got to be scared of” Dean chimed in

“I don’t know something doesn’t feel right, it’s been weird weather lately and I feel sick, I probably sound crazy” I felt like I was going insane

“You’re not crazy, remember last time you got the stomach flu you felt the same, maybe you just have to get some rest”

“Please don’t be gone much longer I love you Sam”

“I love you too”

•

He was gone a lot longer than we both thought, it’s been 4 months now and the calls got less frequent and I felt less important and soon after he left I found out the reason I was feeling sick was because I’m pregnant, I went to the doctors and they said I was about 2 months along, now I’m 6 months, and I’m a ball of stress I didn’t have the guts to tell him over the phone how could I when we barely talked and when we did it was quick just to check up before he had to go

I sat on the couch feeling like my life was flipped upside down so quick, why did Dean have to come back, sure he was great but he took the one thing I loved away, I hear a knock at the door breaking me from my thoughts

I got up my shirt too small as I only covered half my belly and my pajamas pant low on my hips, I walk over to the door and open it seeing Sam and Dean stood there with their father behind

“You’ve finally decided to come home” I sigh, of course I’m glad he’s okay but he left me for 4 months, I stepped aside as they all came in

They came in, Dean and John plopping down on the couch as Sam stood infront of me, his mouth hung open as he looked down at my round belly

“How…..when….why didn’t you tell me” he asked as his hands caressed my belly

“How could I we’ve barely talked and I can’t just spring that information on you over the phone”

“Sammy’s been having fun at college” Dean laughs then hearing John groan

“I told you I didn’t feel right” I say not being able to resist from running my hands through his hair as he pulls me into a tight hold

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve stayed, I can’t believe we’re having a baby”

“A baby girl” I whisper as I hear him gasp pulling back to look at me

“A girl…..a little girl” his voice shock and it warmed my heart

“Congrats Sammy” Dean smiled as he came over slapping him on the shoulder encouragingly, I’m sure John would come around he was just a grump

“Next time I’m coming with you, I’ll be damned if your leaving me and our baby girl”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

#supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester oneshot #Sam Winchester x pregnant reader #john winchester fluff

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antlermoss · 16 days ago

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I'm about halfway through Great God Grove (and head over heels in love with Click Clack) so I joined my buddies in drawing ourselves as gods! Here's my silly guy, God of wonder and little things, Lieken. (Pronounced Lichen)

#great god grove #jeez i love this game so much #the characters! their designs! the story!!! AAAAA!!!!#head over heels in love with this game 2 #limbolane you have done it again you mad fellas #created my two favorite games #if i am missing a game by them please let me know I want to consume all of their work #digital art #art #original art

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aphrvdisiac · 2 months ago

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TO LIE AND LOVE LIKE YOU DO.

ellie williams & abby anderson x fem!reader.

part two of off to the races.

summary — it’s been months since you ran away from the loves of your life. you think you have escaped them forever — only for them to return, with a sick game of cat and mouse coming into play as they remind you just how much you belong to them.

warning tags — adult language. extremely dark content; m*rder, stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior, threats of kidnapping, lowkey blackmail (?), threats made with a weapon. strong adult content; slapping, spitting, double penetration, edging, mommy and daddy kink(s), gun play, bondage, threesomes.

author’s message — let me know if i forgot any important missing tags for this. please proceed with caution as this part is extremely heavier than the first part; ellie and abby are so not nice in here, and it gets dark pretty quickly.

“Where the fuck could she have gone?” Abby asked, her and Ellie frantically searching the penthouse. “She knows better than to turn off her location, or leave unannounced.”

“She was just here, sleeping and resting,” Ellie stated, and their panic was overcomed with frustration and anger instead. You knew that if you went anywhere without them, that you had to tell them exactly where and your location could never go off.

They would chip you if they could. They have thought about it numerous times.

Ellie’s phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her back pocket, noticing Joel’s contact. “Hello?” She answered, irritation playing into her tone. “What’s goin’ on, Joel?”

“The police are heading to your place,” Joel said, and Ellie put the call on speaker. “I don’t know what you two have done this time, but it is bad and I am not helpin’ out with any clean ups.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked.

“I’m not some moron, Ellie!” He yelled, and she rolled her eyes. “They know you killed someone. They know your girlfriend was with you, too. I called her, and asked questions.”

“You did what?” Abby shouted. “Joel, what the fuck!”

That’s how they knew you had run away from them. You were a timid and easily frightened individual, and now that you were aware of what they had done, you scurried away and were going to hide. The pair knew they had some time to track you down to your home.

“Fuck off, Joel,” Ellie cursed, ending the call. “We have time to get her, to make up a story or whatever. We can avoid the police for the night?”

They agreed to find you and explain everything, to lure you back to them as they assured that there was nothing to worry about.

Abby’s eyes go wide. “The shirt.”

Ellie cursed under her breath, running to the closet and into the hamper — only to find the shirt completely gone. You had taken it, and now many possibilities surged through their heads.

“It’s gone!” Ellie yelled, and before the two could leave the penthouse to go to you, two detectives walked in.

The amusing yet realistic part of everything is that even though they knew that you thought you had gotten away for good, they were preparing on how to get you back, and never be able to escape again.

You had a particular interest in Philosophy during high school.

You loved to read the knowledge these scholar men would try to pass on, what they had to say about life, beauty, or death. You wanted to understand their wisdom, their perspective of all things, of everything around them, and how they got to a certain point about it.

You remembered a certain quote from Plato, of how Zeus feared the power of two humans mending together as one, leaving them with four arms, four legs, a head with two faces on it. However, he was so threatened by this that he split them into two, and left them to wander Earth to find each other again.

You had believed in that quote when Ellie and Abby entered your life. These two girls, the most threatening pair, would put a grand shift on your life, and how you perceived it as. They utterly shifted your world, they took you in, and prioritized your needs.

You were worshiped by them.

You couldn’t see beyond the horizon of the world without them there, and in your isolation, you still didn’t know how to.

More than sixty-five days since your departure, leaving them behind, and not hearing a single word from them.

When you came to your parent’s villa, your mother opened the door, and you sobbed into her arms, clutching onto her. She hugged you, stroked your hair, and didn’t know if she should’ve spoken or not.

Your tears soaked into her shirt, and she had to nearly drag you inside, afraid of what was happening with you.

“My dear, what’s going on?” She asked, clear to see the exhausted look on your face, your eyes bloodshot as she sat you both down on the couch. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“I just… Abby and Ellie,” you sobbed, heavily breathing, and shook your head, still in denial of what they did. “I just need to be here for a while. I’m going to transfer to Oxford.”

“You already decided on Columbia,” your mother stated, and you continued to cry, earning a sigh out of her. “You can’t just drop it now.”

You wanted to scream, “they might kill me if I return. They may never let me go after that.” You knew that they were combing through New York, probably already onto their next target — you knew the lengths they would go to just to have you back.

That was something you couldn’t fucking stomach.

“Mom, please,” you whispered, your voice jagged and shaky. “I just can’t go back to the city.” You stared up at her, and she cradled your face in her hands for a moment before nodding, and let you rest your head on her lap.

“Okay, love. You can stay here,” she assured, rubbing your back, and let you sob until you finally calmed down and fell asleep.

The next morning, your father was telling you about Abby and Ellie, wondering if you had any idea about it.

“They’re in deep shit,” he said, glaring at you. “What are you not telling us?”

“I don’t know anything, dad!” You denied, and your mother stood aside, arms folded. “Joel already asked me the same things that you are! I don’t remember shit from that night!”

“So you were there?” Your dad asked, and you fell quiet. He took your silence as an answer, sighing heavily and rubbed his temple in frustration. “You weren’t with any one of them? At all?”

“I… Ellie gave me some coke,” you confessed, guilt reeling into you as you were partially lying, and throwing her under the rug. “I was having a tough night after this guy was harassing me, and after she gave it to me, I was left with Dina and Jesse.”

An exasperated sigh came from your mother, simply frustrated that you had been doing drugs. You were never going to be her perfect daughter, and you didn’t know how long it was going to take until she accepted that fact.

Your dad took a minute to process this information before grabbing your shoulders, and forcing you to look at him. “From here on out, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, and he brought you into a hug, coddling the back of your head. Your father’s affection was never this tender or earnest, and you knew he was only being protective for the family image, but you didn’t care for that — your father was holding you for the first time since you were eleven.

You had to change your phone number, deactivate any social media you had, and new butlers, maids, and chauffeurs were put into place. Your parents allowed you to move to London a month later, staying in a comfortable flat, but were patrolled by bodyguards in answer to your paranoia.

After your readjustment to life, you prevented yourself from hearing anything Abby or Ellie, or if they were at trial. You needed to focus on yourself, get your shit together, and focus on your classes at Oxford.

A few months into the new school, you kept your head low and isolated — something you were used to doing when at Faye Academy, before they made themselves stuck in your existence.

You considered taking your courses online, but knew you’d only lose your mind being stuck in your flat for days on end.

All in four months, your life was granted something that you’d forgotten — freedom.

Not that Abby and Ellie were extremely possessive, but you haven't known anyone besides them in a while. You were able to make friends at Oxford, go out to bars and diners, without the fear they may kill someone who even breathed in your general direction.

It was a relief. And you felt human again.

Your parents constantly checked in on you, and often tried to visit. It was the first time in a while since they hovered over you, and were concerned for your well being.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine,” you assured over the phone, the device stuck between your shoulder and ear as you were returning your textbooks. “I finished classes early, so I was thinking of going back to Milan for semester break.”

“Well, honey, you see,” your mother started off, clearing her throat. “Your father and I were going to attend a gala tomorrow; Joel is throwing it.”

“I thought you guys cut him off,” you said, rushing out of the library, and to your car. “Especially after everything.”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“Ellie and Abby were found not guilty,” she said, and your heart sank to your stomach. “The trial concluded yesterday— we didn’t want to say anything.”

You froze in your tracks. “What?”

“They didn’t kill that boy. I guess he had enemies all along,” she continued, and your head spun. “If you come with us, they won’t be there. Joel assured us of it.”

“So everything is just fine now because they’re innocent?” You questioned.

“Honey, you’re acting as if you know something,” she stated, and you exasperatingly sighed, continuing your walk to your vehicle. “But Jerry and Joel did say they were going to get the girls in contact with a psychiatrist.”

“Huh, and why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, and you hopped into your car, locking the doors. “Would you like to come? And maybe we can then spend a few days in the city. Shop around Fifth.”

“I’ll think about it, momma. Still unsure about the city,” you said, and she sighed, visibly exasperated with your nerves. “I just don’t want an accidental run in with the girls.”

“You guys were so close,” she remembered. “I don’t know what happened, but I hope you all make up soon; they were the best part of your life.”

“Bye, mom,” is all you said, hanging up the call, and tossed your phone into the passenger seat, along with your book bag. You heavily sighed, staring blankly out into the parking lot.

They were the best part of your life.

They were the tragedy of you. They were Hell masked as Heaven, where their lure was nothing more than a ticket to damnation.

Yet, all of them were bestowed to you. You were their alter, their religion, the only reason as to why they believed in life, as you did with them.

But in your time of being free from their grasp, you could breathe, and find a newer light where nothing could dim it.

Your phone dinged, and your eyes snapped over to it, hands fiddling for the device. You opened up the lock screen to see a message from a random number.

Unknown: Image Attached.

You swallowed thickly, your hands numbing as you unlocked your phone and went to the conversation.

It was a picture of you from last night, hanging out with your friend, Delilah. She was someone you had been fond of since attending Oxford, and you had gotten close to her.

Unknown: Cute girl.

R: Who the fuck is this???

Unknown: Didn’t know running made you so dumb.

Nausea washed over you, and fear rattled in your bones.

Unknown: Hi, little lamb. You miss us?

R: I’ll call the police.

Unknown: I’ll tell them you tampered with evidence. We wouldn’t want that, right? Pretty baby like you isn’t suitable for jail time.

R: You would go down with me.

Unknown: You betrayed us. What makes you think we wouldn’t betray you?

You wanted to break your phone on your steering wheel, and you searched the outside of your car, checking your surroundings. There were only a few students, and it was still light outside.

But you knew they were watching you.

Unknown: You run again, and we will find you.

R: Why now?

Unknown: Had some troubles along the way, baby. But we took our time keeping tabs on you. Oxford treating you nice? How’s every bitch who fucks you?

R: You’re stalking me?

Unknown: You really are fucking stupid.

R: Don’t think I won’t get a restraining order against you.

Unknown: Why would you want that, little lamb? After everything we have done for you? Didn’t take you for an ungrateful brat, you know. We have been there when you needed us, taken care of you, dealt with people for you.

R: You mean murder people.

Unknown: Mhm.

Unknown: Be careful, honey. Scary world we live in.

You tried to send another message, but it wouldn’t go through. “What the fuck, what the fuck!” You screamed, going to your phone contacts, and bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Miss, are you alright?” Carson asked. He had been your personal bodyguard since you moved to London, and was respectful of when you wanted to be alone. “Are you in danger?”

“I need my house and the surrounding area to be checked out,” you said, reviving your car engine, and pressed on the gas. “Check for any sort of security cameras, too. Tell Rosaline to pack a suitcase for me as well, I’m heading to Los Angeles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carson answered, the call dropping, and you put your phone in your lap. You were trying not to get into a car accident on your way back to your flat, but you needed to leave the city immediately. You were just happy you finished your courses on time, and you didn’t need to worry about your education for a while.

About to reach home, your phone started to buzz in your lap. You pulled over to the side to look at the contact, only for it to be unknown again.

You hesitated on answering, just wanting to let it ring through, but a part of you wanted to know what sick agenda they had planned out for you. You knew they weren’t going to stop, that they needed you vulnerable and scared in order for them to pounce at you at the perfect moment; just like a prey and predator situation.

A game of cat and mouse.

You accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, bunny,” you heard Abby’s voice, and your head spun. It had been so long since you heard either girl's voice, that you frowned at the sound of it, and almost how comforting it could be. “Missed you.”

“Abby…” you whispered out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I… You both need to stop this.”

“Why, bun? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“You and Ellie killed Brandon, and probably many others,” you told her, sniffling as tears carelessly dropped out of your eyes. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but murder is wrong.”

“You have the shirt, bunny,” Abby stated, and you went quiet. “Why would you do that, hm? If you really wanted to dispose and run from us, you would’ve left it behind, or turned it over to the police.”

You couldn’t tell her your logic or reasoning behind taking the shirt. It even sounded unreal to you, unbelievable, given the circumstances, and how you ran off.

“I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if you both went to prison,” you admitted, hot water running down your cheeks. “I… You and Ellie protected me, and I thought it was only fair I returned the favor. But that didn’t mean I wanted you in my life again.”

Abby hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’m free,” you muttered, inhaling sharply. “You and her wanted to keep me in a cage, keep me locked up forever. You have done it ever since you stepped into my life, and I couldn’t see it until that evening.”

“You make it sound so horrible, bunny,” she breathily chuckled, able to hear Ellie’s own laughter roughly in the background. “Let me ask you again; who’s going to put up with you? Who was fucking there when Miranda Rhodes was fucking spilling rumors about you having eating disorders? Who the fuck handled Timothy Yales after he said he had sex with you after Winter formal?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!” You shouted, millions of emotions flooding over you, and taking you at once, drowning “I never once fucking told you or Ellie to go out of your way to do that shit! I can fucking handle myself, and being away from you both has proved that.”

“Oh, bunny. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Abby stated, sharp and clear with you. She talked as if you were dumb, that you were about out of your mind.

You could nearly burst apart, everything of you filled with terror and rage. You weren’t sure if they expected you to bow at their feet for all their maniacal endeavors they willingly decided to partake in, but you weren’t going to.

You had come this far without them, you had managed to escape them for a good time, and you weren’t planning on stopping everything now. You weren’t going to surrender your freedom and life all for them, all because you knew what they were, and what they could do.

“If I have to turn in that shirt to make sure I never see either of you ever again, I will,” you said, and hung up the call, dropping your phone back into your lap, and continued to drive back home.

The moment your car was parked, you rushed up the stairs of the building, and bursted through your front door. Your guards were all there, Rosaline getting finished up with your second suitcase as Carson approached you from the side.

“Miss, we have searched the area,” he stated, following you while you walked into your bedroom. “We found no sort of threat, especially here. I have called your family’s plane to be prepped and ready for take off to Los Angeles.”

“Carson, please close the door,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your naked bed. He listened, shutting it, leaving you and him in your bedroom as you looked up at him. “I need to ask a question, and this stays between us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, ma’am. I am under your and your parents serving,” he reassured, keeping himself near the door, a secure radius between the both of you.

“Is it possible for me to avoid the law? Few months ago, I may or may have not tampered with evidence,” you blurted, and he inhaled heavily, but nodded, tuned in with you. “My reason is so stupid, but I’m regretting keeping it in my possession, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well, what is it?” He wondered.

“A shirt,” you began, and he cocked his head to the side. “With blood on it. Someone’s blood who isn’t mine, because my ex-girlfriends in New York beat this dude who was harassing me.”

“And you want to turn this in now?” Carson asked, and you nodded. “Okay, miss. I’m going to see what I can do, and once I do, you can hand it over to me.”

“Thank you so much, Carson,” you smiled, standing up. “Now, let’s head to the city of angels.”

You had your own bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It was cozy and spacious, everything to your liking, but only stayed at it when you wanted to escape home. You had once brought Abby and Ellie, and to that, you had to undergo a whole alias, and a different room.

You didn’t have much anxiety about being at Chateau, you were packed with protection, and knew the pair wouldn’t make so much time or risks since their trial had concluded, also sure that Abby understood your threat about the shirt.

You had flown late into the night, it was about three in the morning of the next day, and you were drained with exhaustion. Sleep was becoming you, yet you were on high alert, and couldn’t help but to keep checking your phone.

You worried that there would be another call, or a text; that they weren’t quite finished with their game. In your isolation, you had much time to mull over Abby and Ellie, the things they were capable of, or the people they were.

You knew blood and carnage were them. Their beauty and charm was a simple mask that only you were able to see past as violence and cruelty rotted in their souls. Maybe they couldn’t help how callous and aggressive they could be, but they lived off of it; it was all they were. There was nothing to stop them, nothing that could change them.

In a sense, you assumed your presence and soul balanced them out well — you were a complete polar opposite to them, and that’s what stood out to people at Faye Academy.

They were terrorizing, vicious females, standing with you — a loving, and free-spirited person who didn’t do much, and just kept to herself. Nobody understood or could comprehend it, but that didn't matter to them — you were the solace in their life.

You knew that they were still rough with people — mostly men — in high school, but you didn’t know you were the cause behind each act of violence that they performed. But it made sense, even as you built a timeline.

There was Teresa Doles; she had nitpicked at your appearance for weeks. When you had finally gone to Ellie and Abby about it, pictures of her partying, doing drugs, and medical records of her being in rehab had been leaked everywhere. Her family came from a prestigious lineage, and her reckless behavior put a great indent to it. She had to move to England.

Jonathan White had to be admitted to the hospital after an event for the school. Doctors said they found traces of drugs and poison in his system — which made you laugh because he said he would murder you for rejecting him for Junior prom. You recall him shouting at you, calling you a series of derogatory names, but paid no mind. Ellie and Abby weren’t happy when he told you such a thing.

Kayla Lynn was sent to the ER after her body had been found beaten and bloody in the bathroom. She was barely conscious, unrecognizable to those who found her — the doctors had to pull a tooth and fingerprints from her just to get an ID. You remembered how she bullied you for liking girls, calling you derogatory names, and even said she hoped you would be killed for it.

And you knew there just had to be more than those people. So many of your bullies either switched schools, dropped off the face of Earth, or were in physical therapy after you had told Abby and Ellie about what each of those people did to you.

You were too gullible and head over heels in love with the duo to know they were doing so much behind your back. You had been completely tuned in with love and the relationship, all you saw was them as your blessing.

They meant it when they said they would do anything for you.

“We handled it,” Ellie’s voice would play in your head from that morning. It would repeat itself like a broken record, never shutting up.

We handled it.

We murdered someone.

You didn’t know exactly why the murder scared you, or what provoked you to exactly take the shirt.

You were about to close your eyes until a knock tapped at your door. “Ma’am, it’s Carson,” he said, and you welcomed him in, sitting up on your bed.

You turned on the nightstand's lamp, and he gave you a small smile. “I found a way to submit the evidence without it being traced to you,” Carson said, and your heartbeat went still. “If only you’re wanting to give up the shirt, of course.”

“Well, that was quick,” you nervously laughed, staring down at your lap. “What’s the plan to turn it in?”

“I have trusted connections to the NYPD. Some officers work as guards like I do,” Carson reassured, and you hummed, chewing on your lower lip. “We can send the shirt to them as anonymous, and you won’t have to worry about the shipping coming back to you; it’ll be under my name.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said, and your body trembled, mind hazy. You knew it would be the moral thing to do; the guy harassed you, but Ellie and Abby could’ve done anything else besides murder.

The only murder you were aware of, of course.

These girls protected and defended you and your name. They would put the world on fire, yet never let a flame brush on your skin; they were the poisonous paradise you couldn’t see as Heaven or Hell.

You had to release them, though. You needed to grow up without them by your side, because you were more than them, and they were more than you.

And if the shirt didn’t get them anywhere, at least it was out of your grasp.

You got up from your bed, padding over to your suitcase and opened it up. You grabbed a brown paper bag, and held it close to your chest. “Please make sure I don’t get in trouble for this,” you said, pleading eyes looking into Carson’s soft ones.

He could tell you were beyond frightened. That you were just someone who didn’t mean to do this, that your kind heart thought you were doing something right.

You had absolutely nothing to do with this crime, but somehow, you looked ashamed and guilty as if you did. In a sense, you were — you called Abby about the guy, you knew very well what she was capable of. It was no secret how violent and cruel Abby and Ellie could be — physically or emotionally.

“You’re safe with me,” Carson promised, and you smiled small, hesitantly handing him the bag. “Are you sure about this?”

The bag was out of your hold, Carson grasping onto it. “They need to learn their lesson,” you said, all your logic and thoughts mixed up in your head, utterly brainless at this given rate. “And I just want them to stay out of my life for good.”

He just nodded, taking the bag with him as he exited the room, leaving you alone again.

You couldn’t sleep after that. You couldn’t even try to rest knowing you were going to ruin their lives, putting into consideration all they did for you.

But, you had just regained your freedom, discovered who you were without them. You were able to make friends without their eyes boring into your soul, you could live in peace.

You couldn’t accept anymore threats or violence, just so you could remain theirs forever. Because you knew if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t put you in harm's way.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in your mind when your phone had a sudden ring to it. Your heart stopped, and you froze, your body wanting to sink into the mattress.

You let your phone ring through, letting silence fall pass after the noise stopped.

Not even a minute ticked by as the phone rang again.

You reached for your device, answering the call and brought it up to your ear. “What?”

“So much attitude, little lamb. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” Ellie's voice came through, and you sighed, sitting up. “I’m starting to like this game. Because I know you’re fucking scared.”

You scoffed. “No I’m not. I’m just wanting you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t deal with the idea of what might happen if we catch you,” she began, and shivers cascaded on your body, holding in your breath. “You want to keep running, baby? I don’t mind the chase— it’s exhilarating.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“You knew that, bunny,” Abby joined in, taking over the call. “Why are you acting so surprised? You fucking got off on how insane we got about you, don’t act clueless now.”

“I was naive,” you retorted. “I was manipulated and blinded by you two.”

“Manipulated? Big idea for you to get at,” she continued, and you heard Ellie’s cruel laugh in the background of the call. “You knew what you were doing when coming to us about your bullies. You knew what we all would get out of it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered.

“You liked us hurting you too, bunny,” she stated, and your breaths were becoming uneven. “Always in skimpy outfits, flirting with others to get our attention. We fucking saw through you. You’re just as sick as us.”

“Shut the fuck up, Abigail!”

“Using my full name? I’m so frightened,” Abby chuckled, amused and lightened by your poor intimidation act. “Got me shaking in my boots here, sweetheart.”

“I hope you die— both of you.”

“God forbid, right? Then who’ll take care of you?” Ellie returned into the conversation. “Not even that Delilah bitch could do it. Or Holly, Nicole, Emily, Zaya— no one.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know them?”

“Baby, we told you this,” Ellie reminded you, sighing. “If you were to leave us, we would get you again.”

You zipped your mouth, anxiety surging through you.

“Having fun at the Marmont?” Ellie asked, and you shot up from your bed. “Nice name you got— Emily Dickinson. Really… that name?”

“You’re fucking here?” You asked.

Ellie snickered. “Always in your corner.”

“I have people here, patrolling—“

“Oh, we get it, you fucking princess!” She yelled. “We know you have men, we aren’t idiots. For a valedictorian, you are sure fucking dense. You think you’re always one step ahead, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, Williams,” you sneered.

“See you real soon, lamb,” she said, and the call ended. You knew there was no point in trying to reach the number again, it was unknown and a useless line.

Ellie and Abby stood at the top of the hotel, Delilah beaten as cable ties strapped her wrists behind her back. “Alright, you bitch,” Abby picked up Delilah from the ground, adjusting the feeble girl on her feet.

“She’s…. she’ll hate you for this,” Delilah croaked out. “And no one will believe I’ve jumped to my death.” Her head was spinning, barely conscious enough to process what these two random, strange women wanted with her, or why they cared so much. She swore a second ago she was in her flat, sound asleep and relaxed, and now she was on top of the roof of the Chateau Marmont.

None of this made sense.

“We are going to share this little secret with you since you will be dying,” Ellie said, taking out a cigarette from her pocket. “You’re not the first person who has pleaded for their life, or thought their death wouldn’t be convincing. We do this all for her, and unfortunately, she does enjoy it.”

Delilah shook her head. “No, no. You don’t know her whatsoever.”

“She brought you here to your death, sweet Delilah,” Ellie continued on, puffing out a blow. “She knows that whoever tries to steal or touch her, will be either beaten or killed by us.”

“She wanted you dead,” Abby added, and Delilah broke into hysterical sobs. “And we do give our girl whatever she wants.”

Ellie cut off the cable ties, and Abby maneuvered the frail girl over to the ledge. “Anything else you need to say, honey?” Abby asked, and Delilah’s lips parted, prepared to speak. “I don’t give a shit,” the blonde said, pushing her off as her and Ellie watched attentively, grinning to themselves as Delilah’s body splat on the concrete, blood making a river around herself.

It wasn’t long until your guards were shouting, and there were sirens in the distance.

“Ma’am, there’s been an incident on the grounds,” Carson bursted into your room, and you swallowed thickly, your phone grasped in your hands.

You threw on a robe and your slippers, pushing your way through the men. “Let me go!” You shouted, Carson being the one to shove them off. “I need to see what happened outside!”

“It’s for your safety that you don’t!” One of the men, Jackson, protested, but Carson seized your arm, and tugged you outside by your bicep.

“We listen to her,” he reminded the group as they all followed you outside. You could hear a wave of voices and distress, police officers talking to one another. In your gut, you knew something wasn’t right, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

The noise drew you closer to the entrance of the hotel, where a symphony of shouts were clattering, and police lights mixed into the moon’s gleam. A part of you told yourself to get back into your abode, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your feet tugged your forward, curiosity tingling in your body.

You shoved yourself through a heavy crowd, officers trying to get everyone to back away or stop filming what was happening.

“Excuse me!” You yelled, and pulled yourself further in.

You regretted listening to yourself for another time. Fiery and stressed voices shifted into echoes, banging off the earth’s walls, your eyes struck open by a corpse splashed on the pavement.

Your heart beated in your throat, vomit coating it, and knots twisted in your stomach.

Delilah.

Delilah was on the ground. In front of you.

Your brain didn’t dare register any part of the gory, morbid scene that was plastered in front of you. Blood pooled around her head, her scalp visibly cracked open and her eyes open. You swore she was staring at you, everything in you shaking and trembling with great fear.

“Ma’am, get back!” An officer shouted at you, taking you out of your trance. “Please, this is a crime scene!”

“I… I know her,” you stated, and Carson approached your side. “That’s my friend— her name is Delilah Morse.”

“Please sir, let us get through,” Carson chimed in, and the officer sighed, shaking his head. “This is someone she knows. Only she’ll give you details.”

The officer went to discuss with another official, and your hand buzzed. You flinched to it, not realizing you kept your phone in your hold.

You received a message from Unknown.

Unknown: Want to keep playing, baby?

Unknown: Look at you, so scared and sick. It’ll stop once you give up.

A tear from you covered the screen, and Carson had to push you out of your stare. “Ma’am, let’s go,” he said, and you had not realized the officer was holding up the caution tape to let you through.

You heard a female’s voice come to the side of you. “I’m Detective Anna Blake. What’s your name, and relationship to the victim, miss?”

You stated your name, your voice hush and shaky as you couldn’t look away from Delilah’s body.

“And your relationship?” Anna asked.

“We… I was her friend,” you answered. “What… what did she do?”

“It looks like an apparent suicide,” she responded, and that was enough for her to gain your full attention, a confused expression plastered on your face. “She dropped from the rooftop, and ate it right here.”

“That can’t be,” you shook your head. “Delilah wasn’t at all suicidal, or had any ideations. She was the most positive person I knew.”

“Yeah, but people have personas,” Anna stated, and you furrowed your brows. “She could’ve been acting for you, and everyone else.”

“She’s from London, Detective,” you said, and she stared at you appalled, but intrigued. “She wouldn’t kill herself here.”

Anna was quiet for a sparse second. “Huh… do you know something we don’t?”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up?

There was an open entrance for the vehicles to come through, and for a moment, you swore you saw Ellie and Abby standing across the street.

You knew their silhouettes. And they were watching you, witnessing their crime.

You stared at them back, because now you accepted the truth that no matter where you ran off, that would be there. They would create mess and murder back to back until you gave up the running, and realized you only belonged to them.

Fear was a disease in you, and the only way to kill it was to face them.

Your mother wanted you back in New York. She gave you no choice but to attend the Gala with her and your father.

You tried your best to talk your way out of it, explaining that you had just witnessed your best friend’s corpse the previous evening.

Your mother said the Gala would be a great distraction. You tried to make any point or excuse to stay home, until your father had himself step into the argument. He tended to never insert himself into fights with you and your mom, but this time he felt the need to, and that’s when you were left with no choice.

Of course, your main concern was that Ellie and Abby were going to be there, and confronting them was going to be an inevitable situation. You had to prepare yourself the most as to what to say or do if they were to be in your eye radius.

“This dress is killing me,” you muttered, patting down the bottom part of the simple, yet elegant dress you wore. “And the corset of this is smashing my boobs.”

“Your dress is lovely, dear,” your mother assured, and you scowled. “You have always loved long dresses like this; so long at the bottom, we can’t even see your heels. And you always adored sleeveless corset tops on them, too!”

“You look perfect, honey. You wore this exact dress for junior prom,” your dad reminded, and you shivered to the memory of it. Abby and Ellie were your escort — of course — and everyone adored your dress, even making it into a page in Vogue because it was Vivienne Westwood.

“I just… I don’t want to see them,” you muttered, and the limousine came to a halt. “And it just doesn’t feel right being here, having fun and socializing, when my friend just fucking died.”

“Cherie, Delilah’s death was not your fault or anything,” your mother said, and you glared at her. “It is unfortunate it took place at the same time you were there, but she was just an unhappy girl.”

You didn’t want to converse with her anymore, only getting out of the car before any of them, and were immediately blinded by flashing lights. Your parents stood behind you, and you fixed up a promising smile, making your way into the gala.

The second cameras and screaming men were out of your way, you hunted down a busboy for a glass of champagne. “I will take that!” You grabbed the drink from the silver tray, thanking the man, and earned a groan from your parents.

“Can you at least greet people before you get wasted?” Your father asked, and you shrugged, letting him drag you over to the familiar faces of Jerry Anderson and Joel Miller. You hadn’t seen them since the few days before the murder.

“Ah, there she is!” Jerry exclaimed, and you exchanged a cheek kiss with him, and Joel. “We heard you moved to London. Oxford, right?”

“Yes. It’s been quite delightful,” you shortly shared. “I finished exams early, so I came back into town for the meantime.”

“And do you plan to catch up with the girls?” Joel asked.

You knew at that moment that no one quite understood what really took place that night, and you would never confess to it. They all blindly assumed that there was a great falling out in response to the murder of Brandon James, that you simply didn’t tolerate that behavior, and in some parts of that, it was true.

You had no place or reason to tell the whole truth, or to be honest, when there was an exact, appropriate place to share such a thing. Yet however, if you did, no one would believe you — there was no evidential proof or key to say that Ellie and Abby killed him.

They thought the girls were saints, who were being wronged by another higher power.

The actual case would have them dropping to the ground, and you couldn’t exactly say, “Abby and Ellie are sadistic killers who get off to the pain and torture.”

God fucking forbid, though.

“I’m not so sure,” you answered, taking a light sip of your champagne. “I want to keep to myself for the meantime, and make more goals for my future.”

“Well, if they came tonight, I’m sure it would’ve been lovely,” Jerry said, and you dryly laughed with them.

Champagne wasn’t enough to fill the hollow in you. You needed the strongest shit to exist at the bar.

You had a clear cue to let yourself leave their conversation, leaving you alone in the event. You went to the bar, and sat there, requesting a martini. You put your clutch purse in front of you, and sighed heavily, a migraine coming to your head.

You weren’t used to going to these high class functions by yourself — hell, you didn’t even go until the girls became a part of your life, and would be by your side at each and every one of them. It made your parents happy that they were there to tug you out of your shell, make you more extroverted.

A figure sat at the chair next to you, yet you didn’t pay any mind to it.

Until they said your name, and the voice was familiar.

Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw Dina. Your eyes widened, your body directing toward her, and she smiled. “How have you been!” She cheered, pulling you into a hug, and you could only hug back. “You fell off the face of planet Earth!”

“Oh, yeah,” you broke the hug, facing her. “I… I decided to do school at Oxford. I just needed to get out of the city.”

“Oxford is nice,” she said, smiling small. “Jesse and I were worried about you. The girls said you had broken up with them.”

You gawked at her in disbelief as she went on to order herself a drink.

Who else was fucking clueless?

“Well, I guess,” you mumbled, your martini set down in front of you. “We just had issues we couldn’t resolve from the night before.”

“Oh shit, that sucks,” she sighed, shaking her head. “The breakup must have been terrible to have you move to London.”

Her glass of tequila on rocks came to her as she took a refreshing sip of it, and you were about to claw out your eyes. Either she had brain damage, was lying, or truly wasn’t aware of what occurred that night, but must have since it happened at Jesse’s club.

“Dina Woodward, be fucking serious with me,” you said, and she raised a brow. “You know what happened. That night.”

She blankly stared at you.

“That night… at your boyfriend’s club…”

Dina shrugged, and you were taken aback. “Jesse must know, then.”

“Ellie and Abby were accused of a serious crime,” she began, and you bitterly scoffed, “which they were found innocent to. They had to go through that trial alone, they went through Hell without you.”

“They killed him, Dina,” you told her, yet lowered your voice due to the gossip crowd that circulated. “You cannot seriously be defending them.”

“I’m not defending them,” Dina stated, and you rolled your eyes, downing your martini. “They have plenty of enemies, and you know that, too. Everyone wants to see them at their absolute worst, and do their own dirty work to make it happen.”

You got up from your seat, grabbing your purse. “It was nice seeing you, Dina.”

You shoved your way through the bustling crowd, and were stuck in the middle as soon as your phone began to buzz.

“Not this shit again,” you mumbled to yourself, and pulled out your phone, putting it up to your ear. “What the fuck can I do for you?”

“You look pretty, sweetheart,” Ellie said. “Don’t you worry, we aren’t in your vicinity.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking pleased to hear that,” you exasperated, rubbing your temple in frustration. “Then how do you know I’m here?”

“You’re right, my apologies,” Ellie laughed, and you heard rustling over the line.

“Bunny, we are going to play a game,” Abby came to the line, and your heart jumped rapidly. “We can see you, but we’ve made sure you can’t catch a glimpse of us.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You still don’t get it, darling. But that’s okay,” she took a hast pause, collecting her thoughts. “We told you many times that if you were to run, we would catch you, because you are ours. You can hide, change your name, go to different universities, but we will always be there.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing you were getting stares to your frightened look on your face.

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you, they only kept you away so their image wouldn’t be ruined,” she said, and you knew that was more than true; your parents would do anything to remain prestigious and clean, and you were the taint in their life. “You said you kept that shirt to return the favor, but there’s more than that.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Anderson,” you scoffed, and she hummed. “I gave that shirt away; you and Ellie are going to prison for good.”

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” she said, and the line went flat. You rushed yourself to the ladies room, nausea building in you as the room spun, and your nerves weakened your muscles. Laughter and shouts from strangers rang in your ears as you dragged yourself further to the bathroom, and the sickening gut feeling came back to you.

You couldn’t pull apart if you were truly just sick to your stomach, or your intuition was stronger than ever.

You pushed the door open to the ladies room, and to your luck, it was completely empty. You lunged yourself into a stall, and collapsed down on your knees, yucking it up into the toilet. Your anxiety and worry got the best of you, making you a mess so easily, and you were embarrassed by it.

You stood up after a few minutes, taking in slow, steady breaths, and gathered yourself, standing back up. You moved over to the sink, and settled your purse down, opening it up to grab your lipstick. You rinsed out your mouth with the faucet water, and sighed heavily, turning off the sink.

You reapplied your scarlet red lipstick, and put the item back into your purse, along with your phone.

Then a click was made from the side of you, gaining your attention.

The nausea came back, but not in a wave, yet in a violent crash. You swore your heart stopped for a moment, but could hear it violently beat in your eardrums while bile stung inside your throat, threatening to come out again.

Your body trembled, knees about to bring you down, and all you wanted to do was die at this very moment.

“Hey, little lamb,” Ellie said, grinning in pride. Your body pressed back against the sink’s counter, and tears approached over your eyes as you stared at her. “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“No… no,” you said, able to take yourself to the bathroom’s entrance. You opened it, only to be met with Abby instead, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You are both not here.”

“Oh, but we are,” Abby said, moving forward in sync to your steps going backwards. She maintained a fairly safe distance, but one close enough to grab you if you tried to run. “Why so surprised, bunny? We promised this.”

Something about them was gravely different this time. There was a darker energy to them, a sense of evil and anger heating off of them as they stared at you down in the way the predator does when they have finally cornered their prey.

Yes, they got you, and you had no way out anymore — what a fucking terrifying and cruel revalation.

The cat got their little mouse, right by the tail.

You had fallen right into their trap perfectly, in all the ways they wanted you to. It took great cunning patience and practice to get you in this position, to have you trapped.

You were beyond scared; this was the reoccurring nightmare you dreamt of since the night you left. You always tried to consider or plan out what you would do if they were to approach you in any way, but you never paid mind to how methodical and intelligent they were.

You doubted their skills and abilities, and you were dumb to think they wouldn’t get you any time soon, that you would be free from them for a few more months, maybe a year or two – maybe even a lifetime — you wished and prayed upon it.

You were stuck now. The cat and mouse game came to their precise ending.

“Are you going to kill me now?” You asked, and they hummed, shrugging to themselves.

“Well, if we wanted that, we would have done it back in LA,” Abby said, and your eyes averted back and forth between them, trying to see if there was a possible way out. “Or back in London, who knows. We had so many open opportunities to kidnap you, but we liked this little game.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do now? Kidnap me?” You asked, snickering dryly. “Keep me hostage forever? Wouldn’t be anything new to me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Ellie told you, tilting her head to the side. “You liked this claim we have on you. You will never admit it and that’s okay, because we know it, baby.”

“Now let’s not be so rude,” Abby said, and you glanced at her. “Let’s say bye to our guests, and go back home, little bunny.”

Ellie and Abby had seemed to have enough time to decorate the penthouse. To your last memory of it, only the shared bedroom was furnished, and now, they had everything perfectly perched in precise spots.

You sat in the living room, on the black velvet couch as you stared out the window with a mindfulness of thoughts. The city was bustling, sirens louder than ever, and traffic stacked up. You tried to concentrate on the noise outside because it would be last time you would hear it.

The pair had finished fixing themselves up a drink, returning to the room, and sat across from you. You didn’t pay attention to them, fits of rage and terror consuming you inside. You don’t know why you thought you would actually escape them, and you had only dug yourself in a deep grave.

The familiar silence moved through the home, and you could feel their eyes spiking into you, waiting for you to say something. You had more than to say and ask, but you didn’t know where exactly to start, or if you were allowed to question certain things.

“You killed Delilah,” you blurted out, your eyes averting from the window. “You killed Brandon James, and many others, I assume.”

“We have,” Ellie answered, drinking her bourbon.

“I don’t get why. Why do you kill people? How do you even get away with it?” You asked, and Abby glanced over at Ellie, communicating to each other through their eyes. “Are you in like a fucking cartel or some shit?”

“Joel didn’t have an easy time getting to where he is,” Ellie began, setting her glass down, and slouched back on the couch. “He has some connections, and so does Jerry. It’s hard to get into it all, but they were doing illegal shit on the side to get money, build their legacies.”

“We didn’t kill until you,” Abby said, and you raised a brow, positioning your body in their direction. They could tell you were now intrigued, and you were; you were more than curious. “It was two months into knowing you, and you told us about Rachel Wayne. Remember her?”

“Of course I do. That bitch bullied me like it was her life’s purpose,” you lightly joked, and she sighed. “Why?”

“It was the day when she beat you in the girl’s bathroom, ramming your face into the blow dryer all because you got a higher score on your SAT,” Abby said, and you hissed at the memory. You were a good fighter, but Rachel’s envy possessed her strength that day, and she kicked you around like an animal in the bathroom.

She locked the door, keeping her friends, you, and herself locked in, while they recorded the whole moment. You went home with a concussion, a busted face, and cried to the girls about it.

“We were so fucking pissed,” Ellie said, scoffing to herself. “We knew Rachel well. We invited her over to my place, and made small talk, getting the information out of her about what occurred. We got names, and everything.”

You remained quiet, but stayed tuned in and fully focused.

“We got her high off cocaine, and once she was zoned out, we beat the fuck out of her,” she explained, and your heart thumped against your chest, about to pop out. “She was crying, and screaming; but it made us think of how that was you previously because of her. Our anger overrode us to the edge, and we started cracking her body in. We didn’t know we had killed her until she was completely fucking limp.”

“Those who had the video were dealt with too,” Abby assured. “If they refused to delete it, we made sure their lives would be ruined, their parents would be left with nothing. We knew how to obliterate these spoiled fucks.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. It was rumored that Rachel ran away to her boyfriend in Spain, and refused to come back because her parents were assholes to her, and just a straight disappointment to them. “How did you clean up your tracks?”

“Well, I called Joel in a panic, and told him everything,” Ellie answered, finishing her drink. “Joel told Abby and I to get ourselves cleaned up, and these men came over like an hour later, picking up after us.”

“They wiped our phones and tracks completely,” Abby said, and slid you forward her glass of whiskey. “And then we did it again, and Joel quickly realized we were doing it for you. He saw that you were our purpose, so he let us use his connections, and everything.”

“He was worried everything was going to collapse the second the cops came about Brandon,” Ellie recalled, and took out a fresh cigarette. “That was a mess we had to fix, of course. Like, I’d never seen Joel so pissed off before, it was insane.”

“How did you get away with the murder?” You questioned.

“Easy shit,” Abby laughed, shrugging. “He had himself in rough, bad business. We basically found someone who he owed money to, planted all the evidence and shit on that dude.”

“Now that motherfucker is serving life,” Ellie lit up the stick, inhaling sharply. “We made sure it wouldn’t come back to us.”

“But the shirt,” you reminded them, and they stared at you for a moment before aweing at your little tactic. “The shirt is with the cops.”

“Is it, though?” Abby teased, and a faint ding of the penthouse elevator chimed, footsteps approaching into the living room. “Right on time, too! God, I fucking love dramatics.”

Your eyes shifted to the noise, a broad and muscular figure walking to everyone; and you swore it was the night you were going to go into shock, or have an aneurysm.

Carson stood before you with the shirt in a clear zipped bag, and Abby stood up. “Thank you so much,” she grinned, and Ellie shook his head. “Your money has been transferred to your offshore account.”

“What the fuck?” You blurted, Carson directing his eyes towards you. “You knew?”

“I’m the one who’s been cleaning up their messes,” he admitted, and Abby opened up the bag, taking out the shirt. “It didn’t take much to convince your parents to hire me. I just needed a believable resume.”

You shot up from the couch, staring him down. “You told them where I was at, and everything! You are a fucking narc!”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Carson dryly chuckled, amused by your terrified expression. “They were able to do that all on their own; I just gave them the starting point, and left it at that.”

You smacked him, the skin contact echoing in the home. He only laughed, finding you childish and weak, and shrugged. “I’ll have you fucking killed!”

“Loved to see you try,” he said, and took his exit, waving to the pair. You stared at where he was in utter shock, widely appalled with slight betrayal hitting your heart. You had trusted Carson wholeheartedly, felt secure and safe with him, and it all was a blinding lie.

Ellie started up the fireplace, and your eyes flickered to the ghostly fire. “No, no!” You shouted, trying to seize the shirt from Abby, but the auburn haired girl entrapped you in her hold, forcing you to watch the shirt to be burned.

“You know, I hope you start to learn tonight,” Abby tossed the shirt into the fire, and you wailed, thrashing in Ellie’s arms, yet it was pointless; in every way, they would always be stronger, you being a weakling.

The shirt crinkled and disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Ellie let go of you, and you glared at her. “We aren’t done talking,” she settled you back on the couch, and Abby brought a glass of chardonnay to you. “Now we want our answers.”

“I’ll fuck you up!” You spat, and they tried not to laugh. “What else shit do you have to say?”

“What did you expect to happen when you came to us about your bullies?” Abby asked, genuine and engrossed. “Did you think we would just have chit chats?”

You took a second to yourself, and you stared down at your lap, fidgeting at your dress. Before Abby and Ellie came into your life for good, they were notorious at the academy, and held that title with such pride. You knew what they were capable of, what they could do, and you saw them as your defenders from everything.

Did a part of you know what you were doing? Yes, but not that it would lead them to murder. You never understood or knew why they were so fixated on you, even before they decided to lure you into their lives. They had been riveted by you, and there was not a clear indication as to why, but you used it to your full advantage.

Your parents didn’t care about you, and they knew that. All three of you played a dangerous, deadly role in the relationship; it was volatile and brutal, but it was all you had, and they were all you wanted.

You spent so much time running and hiding from them, you never took a particular moment to realize your role in everything. You took that shirt because it was a part of you; you had Brandon killed, he was a deadman the second you called Abby about him.

You were just as guilty as them, you were just as part of their games and murder.

No one else was going to do this for you, nobody would burn and tear apart the Earth just to have you in their grasp again.

“There’s our girl,” Abby cooed, and you looked up at them, tears in your eyes. “You finally understand. After these years, now it has come to you.”

“You gave us the cards, we just played them the way you liked,” Ellie said, and you downed the chardonnay, exhaling shakily as you set it down. “We knew you were too much like us, we couldn’t deny you anymore. We had to have you.”

“Every time you said we handled it,” you sucked in a hard, jagged breath, “was that code for ‘we killed someone”?”

“What else would it mean, princess?” She mused, burning her cigarette out alas in the ashtray on the coffee table.

A silence slowly creeped into the room, crinkling of the fire and outside traffic filling it as it lasted what felt like moments.

“You know the first time we say you — God, we just knew we had to have you,” Abby spoke, and your eyes trained focused on them. “You hypnotized us by simply existing, by being in our vicinity. It was like we were blessed to come across one of God’s angels.”

You were always sure that they were attracted to you because you simply co-existed within their class status, and because they knew you were the only girl at Faye Academy that wasn’t corrupted or tainted. You were like this fresh breath for them to use — and you still thought like that after everything they had done for you, and even prove that they did love you beyond your body.

“Why me?” You asked.

“We don’t know what you did to simply draw us in, but we couldn’t resist. Every time I saw you in class, in your nicely ironed pleated skirt, in your dark blue polo sweater… your makeup done so pretty…” Ellie reminisced, a crude grin playing onto her lips as she recalled the first moment she laid eyes on you. “You were so pure, so perfect for us. It was no longer about wanting you, it was about needing you — we had to; everyday that passed by where you weren’t in our grasp, we could almost die from it.”

“You will never truly know how much you have us at our knees for you, sweetheart, and that’s okay,” Abby said, and you sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing you had been barely breathing the entire time they spoke about you. “But understand the risks we would go through for you; we live and breathe you. We crave and yearn for you, despite the fact you are already ours. What is our purpose if you simply don’t exist in our lives?”

There was not much you could say to that, only able to break down. They sat up from the couch, and Ellie reached her hand out for yours, softly looking at you.

“Let’s go upstairs, baby,” she gently spoke to you, and peered up, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with hers. She walked you with her, Abby trailing close behind as an easy quietude settled in place, though your sniffles were the only thing to be heard.

Walking into the bedroom, you were momentarily paralyzed by the memory of your last moment in it. You were on that same bed when you put all the pieces together, and had left them with no letter or anything; you took your absence, and that was that.

Ellie guided you over to the wall mirror, her and Abby brushing up close on your back, the two attentively admiring you. “We would do anything for you, sweet girl,” Abby said, and your sobs slowly came to a halt. “We’ll always happily be your executioner, for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re our girl,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I think you need a fresh reminder of what you put us through.” Her hand hid behind her for a moment, grabbing something from the back of her jeans. A gun came into your vision, and your breath hitched, but she kept it by her side.

Your neck was met with Abby’s soft lips, her warm breath fanning against your skin, and her fingers loosened the strings of the corset. You softly moaned, Ellie fixated on the sight of you easily falling apart to Abby’s kissing, and grinned to herself. “Doesn’t take much to have you under us,” she said, and you eyed her, nodding.

The dress was undone, and easily dropped off your body, the duo getting the view they had longed for all this time. You were bare and exposed, only in underwear, and a primal urge had shadowed over them, wanting to ruin you without any thought.

“Oh, bunny,” Abby whispered. “Just as perfect as we remembered.”

Her lips separated from your marked neck, and you whimpered as Ellie pressed her gun to your abdomen. “What a sweet sight that I will never get tired of,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Seeing you fucking petrified as if we will kill you at any moment.”

“But you won’t,” you retorted. “Right?”

“No,” she promised as the gun was slowly dragged to your temple, and she clicked the trigger, only for the barrel to be empty. You flinched to the trigger, your heart racing. “But we will hurt you, I can assure you that, little lamb.”

She used the gun to steer you to the foot of the bed. “On your fucking knees,” Abby demanded, and you collapsed to them, your knees thudding against the cold, hard granite tiles. “Anytime you stop, we use this gun, and you can find out yourself if the barrel is cleaned out.”

“Yes, mommy,” you muttered, and they amusingly hummed. Ellie kept the gun in position, using one hand to unbuckle her belt, and strip off her jeans as Abby did the same. It was a rare thing for them to have their straps under their pants, only if they knew they would have to handle you at any given moment, and this was one of them. You were going to come crawling back, and they were prepared for it, to claim and destroy you all in one.

“Mama gets to have you first,” Ellie said, and you parted your mouth open, Abby’s stuffing your mouth full with her cock, careless to your gagging. She had her way with you, her hand holding the top of your head as she thrusted herself into your mouth, trying your best to not pull back and gasp for air. The gun was there to keep you place, and you couldn’t ignore how it pressed deeply into the side of your head.

“That’s right, baby. Fuckin’ whore,” Abby said, and you tried to best out of your nose, desperate for more air. You used whatever strength you had, forcing your head back, and engulfed amounts of oxygen into your lungs. “What the fuck did we say?”

The trigger was pressed, and your ears rang with it. Empty, again.

“You’ve been away too long, princess,” Ellie said, and Abby retrieved your head, your mouth filled with the silicone object again. “Was too busy fucking other girls, huh? I bet they couldn’t make you like this; I can see you fucking dripping through your panties.”

Your arousal was a wildfire in you, spreading through your stomach, and down into your thighs. You could feel the mess you were making, seemingly ashamed and embarrassed how you got wet from their threats, with a gun pointed to you that was possibly clipped.

“There she is, now you are being good,” Abby praised, her thumb pressing away the tears that fell on your apple cheeks. “Always doing your best for us, hm? Knew you missed us too, baby.”

Ellie crouched down to your level, the gun lined up under your head as her grin turned into a twisted smirk. “All that we did for you, little one,” she mocked a frown, sighing. “And you just ran away like that? Coming home to find you gone, and betraying us?”

You were lightheaded and dizzy, your mind hazy, yet tried to stay focused. Your moans and whimpers gargled in your throat, drool running out of the corners of your mouth, and falling down onto your breasts.

“You belong to us, and you better start getting that through your fucking skull,” Ellie seethed, her bitter fury coating her mind. “You are only hurting yourself by doing the shit you do. A fucking brat you are.”

Abby decided to give up on you, your mouth hollow and free. She grabbed you by your throat, a sinister shade lingering in her eyes, and air whistled through her teeth. “Little bunny, you have no clue what you’ve done to yourself.”

You were put in the middle of the bed, and Ellie looked at her gun. “Let’s see if she can still take us,” she said, and Abby hummed, nodding. Ellie adjusted herself in between your legs, shoving them open, and stripped off your underwear, moaning at the sight of your cunt. “Fucking hell. She’s fucking soaking, babe.”

Abby had bunched ropes in her hand, kneeling into the bed, and stared at your cunt. “What a sick bitch you are, bunny,” she teased, running a finger down your slick folds, and you whined. “All of this from a gun, Ellie. She fucking loves it.”

Nothing else was said as Abby grasped onto your legs, and pushed your legs up against your chest. Her hands gripped on your wrists, having you hug the underneath of your legs, and made sure you kept yourself locked in the placement.

Ellie tied your wrists together, tight enough to not cut off any blood supply, and then went on to your ankles, knotting them in one. She used another string of rope to connect your ankles to your wrists, making your position trapped and stuck.

“We don’t want to hear you enjoying this,” Ellie said, and gave the gun over to Abby as the blonde sat herself in front of you. Ellie took off her strap, letting it drop to the ground, and took off her underwear, only to move herself over your face. She carefully lowered herself down on, and her aching cunt met your mouth as you obediently sucked and ran your tongue on it.

Abby slowly slipped the gun into you, yet you were soaked enough to let it easily be fucked into you. She pressed down onto your stomach as she rammed the cold weapon into your pussy, and you tried to muzzle your needy noises, tending to Ellie’s needs.

The auburn girl rutted herself against your mouth, eliciting shaky moans and cursed under her breath. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” she muttered, looking over at Abby while she continued to fist the gun into you.

You lathered Ellie’s slick on your tongue, pleased how it dripped over your lips as you moaned to the sweet taste of her. If your wrists weren’t restrained, you would keep your arms around her thighs just to eat her out for hours on end.

Abby and Ellie were intensely dominant, it was unwonted when you gave them pleasure. They were refusing about it, saying that you were the one who needed to be desired and tended to whenever you wanted to be.

You couldn’t tell if you were immensely desperate or if the gun was fucking you so well, that you were already at the peak of your climax. You denied your orgasm, needing to get Ellie to hers, and harshly ate her out, fucking her hole with your tongue, sending her into a moaning, pleading mess for you.

“Oh shit, sweetheart— yeah, keep going,” she softly moaned. “Being such a good girl for daddy, gonna make sure to cum in your pretty mouth.”

“She’s making a mess on your gun and sheets,” Abby said, and for a moment, your cunt was not filled until she pushed her cock into you. “There we fuckin’ go, this is exactly what she needs.”

Ellie craned her body near Abby, the two kissing each other in a sloppy manner as the blonde roughly fucked into you. Abby kept her close as Ellie’s jagged moans and whines breathed into her mouth, doing all she could to keep herself up and close.

“You going to cum, baby, hm?” Abby asked, and Ellie moaned against her lips, nodding. “Go on, cum for us. You can do it.”

Ellie’s orgasm came crashing down as she squirmed and cried out, twitching on your mouth. Ellie pushed herself up, kneeling beside your head and leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning at the taste of her. You sucked on each other’s tongues, Ellie slipping her hand down your stomach, and made way in between your thighs, rubbing your cunt.

She broke apart the kiss, her free hand gripping onto your jaw to make forced eye contact, and spat into your mouth. “Make us proud, baby. Want you to give daddy a good one,” she whispered, and you kept your eyes trained into hers as Abby pounded herself deeper into you, the squelching noises of your slick mixing in with your whimpers and throaty moans.

“So fucking tight, never gonna get enough of this perfect pussy,” Abby breathed, her hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Made just for us, sweet girl. Everything about you was made for us to worship and ruin.”

“No one fucked you like this back in London, huh?” Ellie asked, and you shook your head. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. Probably had to get off all by yourself while you thought of us, too.”

“Just… just thought of you two the entire time,” you confessed, brows knitted together. “I need you so bad, ‘m sorry.”

“We’re here, baby,” she said, kissing the side of your head. “Next time you try to escape, you’ll absolutely fucking regret it. Got that?”

You nodded, and a warm sensation kindled in the pits of your stomach, knowing the familiar feeling. You squirmed, and Abby glanced over at Ellie. “If she doesn’t understand, we’ll just beat it into her,” she said, making it a sincere promise, and a chaste kiss was made to your forehead. “I would hate to do that, but it might just happen.”

Your approaching orgasm made it too troubling to know if they would harm you in such a way, but you were at the point that you couldn’t put it past them.

“Cum for mommy,” Abby insisted, and you moaned, your hips jittering as your climax broke out of you, broken moans escaping from you. “That was fucking nothing, you crybaby.”

The cum from her strap leaked with yours, dripping out of your hole, and making a puddle in the bedsheets. She unknotted the ropes, tossing them to the ground shortly after, and massaged your wrists.

You laid there for a second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, the two confused by it.

“What?” Ellie bluntly asked.

“Surprised you even let me cum,” you said, laughing a little more. “Usually you have me work for it.”

Abby and Ellie looked at each other before their eyes went back to you as they puckered their lips in thought nodding to themselves. Ellie picked you up from the bed, and brought a violent backhand slap to your cheek, halting your laughter altogether.

“You want to keep fucking laughing!” She yelled, giving you another one. “You are even fucking lucky we are touching you. We could have had you strapped to a vibrator for hours, and hit you every time you tried to cum.” Your lightness turned into sobs, and you stared at her through glossy vision, your pout shaking on your lips. They had simply run over their limit and patience with you, and you no longer doubted the sadism they would lay on you.

Abby just stood by, soaking in your tears and how easy it was to crack you. It was enough for the both of them to get off. She took you from Ellie, putting your arms behind your back as her chest brushed up against it, and Ellie took off her shirt, harnessing back on her strap.

God, I know you hate me, you thought to yourself. But please, have mercy on me.

Abby spat down your ass, using the saliva as lubrication, and dipped you down onto her strap, your ass hole brutally being stretched open. She kept you steady and positioned right for Ellie, who was not far behind as she shoved her cock into you.

“Ride us, bitch,” Abby said, and you obliged, hissing under your breath. The pain lasted longer than you thought, tears flooding into your ears while their size brutalized your cunt. “Such a sensitive cry baby. So easy for us to break you.”

Your head fell back on her shoulder, looking up at her. “Please, mama. ‘M sorry, I’ll be so good for you.”

Ellie grabbed your jaw, a violent smack struck against your cheek. “You enjoy lying to us, all the fuckin’ time. We should’ve disposed of you a while ago, see how you would’ve done without us.”

“What a pity that would be,” Abby taunted, laughing breathily in your laugh. As they found humor at the thought of you being a lost lamb without them, you were ripping at the seams as you went on to ride them at a gentle pace for you, the discomfort shifting into grand pleasure. “I would like to see that. Maybe next time we will leave, have you feel what we did.”

“No no!” You cried, shaking your head, and broke into hysterical sobs. “Didn’t mean to go, swear I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ellie jested, that eerie smirk of hers resting on her lips. “Because who will put up with you? Make you feel like this? Give into your fucking sick desires?”

“That’s why you’re perfect for us,” Abby noted, her hand creeping up to your neck, and viciously gripped on your throat. “Just as twisted and fucked in the head as us, more than you’d care to admit. No one will want or need you the way we do.”

You refused to deny them that. They were what you craved, they were the epitome of your lust and dreams, everything you yearned for, and were the helping hand to expose who you were to yourself. You would’ve done the same as them if they tried to leave; you would fucking slaughter those who they cared for just to have them again.

A match made in the ninth circle of Hell.

Your next high came to you, making it easily known as your noises got high pitched, making it an indicator. “Let me cum, please,” you pleaded, sobbing. “Want to cum, I need to— I’ll do anything you want.”

“We like you this way, stupid whore,” Abby said, and made the gun useful again, pointing it to your ribcage. “You cum, I pull the trigger.”

You body tensed, and you nodded, trying to ignore your unbearable high as it was becoming raw ecstasy to you. Your thighs trembled, about to give up on you, and you looked at Ellie through wettened eyelashes, your face drenched with tears and sweat.

The bedroom was rare filth, you could smell sin and vices burning through it. Your life was in their hands in every literal sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you would rather die than not have them, and if that meant they would have to kill you themselves, you would let them. You were utterly nothing without them, and they knew it, too.

You had all the fucking wealth and privilege in the world to be someone, but you couldn’t be if they weren’t there on your side. You were them, and they were you. Your souls were eternally intertwined, and no matter where you went, you would always come back to them because they were it. They were all you sought out for.

Despite their desecration and souls being planted from Hell, they were Heaven and all things bliss.

You needed them. You would always need them.

You were winded out of your head as your orgasm stung inside of you, crying to be freed. You sobbed with it, shaking your head, but had to consider the gun that was indented into your skin. You had not known how much was passing when holding in your cum, but you couldn’t take it, and it was easily making you fall apart.

“Mommy, please!” You cried, blubbering in your tears. “I have to— ahh, please! I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, and you will, you fucking whore,” Ellie argued. “Unless you want to find out if the next shot has a bullet in it.”

You shook your head, and continued to break into sobs, your orgasm threatening to be released at the edge of you. It was becoming too much, your vision was blurring, and your heart was overwhelmed, almost frightened you would have a heart attack of some sort.

Ellie and Abby gave in, violently and recklessly pounding into you, putting your riding to a complete stop. You placed your hands on Ellie’s shoulders for support, Abby’s nails clawing into your throat as she continued to hold onto it for leverage while she maintained to hold you at gunpoint.

Utter euphoria rode over you, your eyes rolling to the inside of your head, and your back perfectly arched, crying out for the both of them. Your nails scratched at Ellie’s skin, your eyes getting a hast look at her fucking your cunt. Your noises and voice grated like rust at the back of your throat, breaths shuddering in your ribcage.

“You want to fucking cum, bunny?” Abby breathily asked. “Cry for it more if you really want it, sweetheart.”

“Mama, please!” You sobbed loudly, your mewls and cries faltering in your cries. “Want to be full of you, need to be bred by you two, please. Make me a pretty mommy for you, keep me trapped with you.”

They fucking lost it on you, ferociously driving themselves deeper into your wet, abused holes, and were coming to their own high. “Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” Ellie cooed, a faux pout dangling on her lips. “Then you wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

You nodded, on the brink of being braindead. “Yes, yes! I wanna be leaking of you. Wan’ mama and daddy to breed me so badly, please!”

You were an incoherent babbling mess, your voice raw and rough as you cried with your noises of gratification. They easily had you at the tip, and were ready to push you all the way down, keep you sobbing.

“Fucking cum for us, fuck!” Abby demanded, dropping the gun, and let go of your throat. She laid her hands on your torso, her nails scraping against your skin, and you hissed to it. Wanton moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, and a second hadn’t passed when your climax ran out of you, riding it out as the girls went on to fuck you.

You let them use you like a fucktoy until they had come to their own orgasm, stuffing their cum into you as a symphony of curses sputtered from their lips. All movements came to a stop, bodies trembling and sticky.

You had to internally keep yourself conscious, but it was seeming impossible. You collapsed onto the bed the moment you were unfilled with their cocks, letting them handle themselves before you.

You could feel a warm, wet rag running over your legs, and you stared up at the ceiling, your eyes lazily blinking. “We need to clean you up, sweetheart. C’mon,” Ellie said, and picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

The three of you shared a warm bath, sitting in the middle of them as they cleaned you up nice and well, being sure to be gentle to touch you. You had missed the sweet scent of them, or how their violent hands could be so kind to your body, chaste kisses being pressed on your spine and forehead here and there.

It took you a few years for you to figure out your purpose with them, and all that they did for you. It was more than enough. To many, it would seem insane of your justifications and reasonings to why they did what they did for you, but no one else's opinion mattered in the fact. They worshiped you, they devoted every inch and breath of themselves to your protection and well being.

This is all you wanted. You and them forever the rest of your life. If carnage and bloodshed had to present, then so be it; because as long as you had them there by you, it was okay.

It was going to be okay forever.

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hurtspideyparker · 3 months ago

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Part 3 of if Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together

Part 1 Part 2

Mission debrief:

Thor: Don't feel bad Banner, I mean is there anyone at this table who hasn't killed somebody?

Peter: *slowly raises hand*

Natasha: Don't worry you're still young

Peter: 😟

Steve: Has anyone seen my shield?

Clint: *points outside*

*Peter, Thor, and Bucky playing frisbee with it*

Steve: I guess I'm not saving those orphans today :/

Clint: Tony I said seedless watermelon, are you trying to kill me?

Tony: You're a big boy, you aren't gonna choke

Clint: No but it might... grow

Tony: Oh please don't tell me you still think watermelon seeds grow inside your stomach if you swallow them

Clint:

Pietro: Bro got a licence to kill but still has a Jack and the Beanstock level of education

2:34 am

Tony: *leaving Steve's bedroom*

Sam: *leaving Bucky's bedroom*

Tony:

Sam:

Tony: Let's never speak of this?

Sam: Yep.

Steve: Tony, you're the smartest person I know. You understand anything you set out to study, your passion is remarkable, innovation beyond anyone on the planet, and an incredible memory

Tony: Thank you thank you

Steve: So why do you STILL NOT CLOSE THE KITCHEN CABINETS

Tony: Uh

Steve: SOME OF US ARE TALL TONY. SOME OF US HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR FOREHEADS BECAUSE OF THIS NEGLIGENCE

Tony: Goodnight kid *tucks Peter into bed and kisses his forehead*

*Clint, Vision, Thor, and Dum-E waiting outside the room*

Tony: Oh come on. All of you?

*nodding*

Tony: Vision you don't even sleep. Dum-E I am not kissing you again you gave me chemical burns last time

Dum-E: *lowers head and whirs sadly*

Bucky: Don't sit so close to me

Sam: Why, cause I'm black 🤨

Bucky: No because you smell like ass sweat

Sam:

Sam: Why, cause I'm bl-

During training:

Natasha: *flips Steve and slams him onto his back*

Peter: Woah! I wanna know how to do that

Natasha: *flips Peter and slams him onto his back*

Natasha: Seems like you already know how

Tony: Okay Merida, you and me, darts for a hundred bucks. My suit vs. your freak self

Clint: I'll take that bet

*7 minutes later*

Tony: I have advanced AI targetting technology. SUPER. SUIT. How did I lose?!

Clint: It can do a lot of things Tony but at the end of the day it can't super suck this di-

Bucky: Sam's in medical so I'll do the mission debrief with you

Natasha: That was fast, I thought you'd still be coddling your boyfriend the rest of the day

Bucky: What. How do you know about us.

Natasha: I don't, it was a joke...

Bucky:

Natasha:

Bucky: Damn you really are good at interrogation

Bruce: I've taken up puzzles as a hobby. It's actually really relaxing

*Box is missing the last piece*

Bruce: *sighs, erases the 61 under the 'Days Without Hulk Incident' sign*

Natasha: Kings

Bucky: Go fish. Sevens?

Natasha: Nada. Fives?

Bucky: Shit. Here

Sam: I thought y'all were playing poker, are you for real playing Go Fish?

Natasha: Our pockets got cleaned out so we quit. The poker game is over by Steve

Peter: HAHA SUCK IT OLD MAN, AMERICA JUST WENT BANKRUPT *pulls giant pile of animal crackers to himself*

Steve: Do you want to play catch?

Wanda: What?

Steve: Um. Do you want to watch Hannah Montana?

Wanda: I don't even know what you're talking about

Steve: Maybe I could show you how to brush your teeth?

Wanda: Steve you're really scaring me

Steve: The article said to do it together! *shows phone*

Wanda: Are you getting parenting advice from wikihow? Did you even read it or were you just skimming the pictures

Steve: ...Well why'd they put toothbrushing in the photo if it wasn't a good bonding activity?

Sam: Why are your titties so bouncy man. Is it to deflect bullets?

Steve: What did you just say about my chest...

Sam: Hey I call em as I see em, and they're staring right at me.

Peter: Yo Mr. Stark wanna see a backflip?

Peter: Oh Cap come see my front handsprings

Peter: Natasha watch this aerial cartwheel!

Tony: Why did you tell him you were in the circus. Now that the idea's in his head all he does is jump around and cause noise complaints from downstairs

Clint: C'mon it's cute! He's talented

Bucky: I'm gonna tell him it doesn't count because he has superpowers and that he's a cheat

Tony: But that'll ruin his confidence

Bucky: God I hope so

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okwonyo · 2 months ago

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（标题） STRAWBERRY HEAD.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡⠀a guy with a fun costume flirts with you at a party.

( 엔하이픈 희승 ) ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff meet cute ── flirting skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i am not leaving tumblr everrr don’t worry, luvdolls 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

it always ends up the same. no matter what the conversation is, no matter how it began or where; it always ends up with the same conclusion. why don’t you have a boyfriend, yet?

as always, you groan while tilting your face to the ceiling. like a tradition, it is like you are begging a superior being to end your misery now and just take you before they all start to recall all your failed dates and talking stage over the past few months. it is not like they are that many, anyway.

you can try to tell each one of the people surrounding you that you are not interested in a relationship, that you think boys are fun to mess with but truly useless and that you are fine on your own— they never listen.

you successfully disappear amongst the crowd of diverse book, movie and game characters— and even … fruits? — costumes to get a drink. suddenly feeling very thirsty.

no one notices you, too hang on debating on your love life when you are not even there to begin with.

pouring something into your glass, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you.

“hey,” a voice greets you loudly. making your heart jump all the way to your stomach.

you almost giggle as you turn around; a tall, grown man in a bright red hoodie, the same color as his joggings and a strawberry sort of hat wrapped around his head.

his voice is way too deep to go with his costume.

a smile tugs your lips, “hi.”

he smiles back. this time with a much much softer, he tells you back, “hi,” he eyes lingers on your face. “you come here often?”

you actually giggle at that, with your face falling towards the ground, with his face following yours, with his gaze never leaving you as he smirks.

you cross one arm under your chest and plant your free arm’s elbow in your wrist, holding your drink close to your mouth, “please, don’t tell me that line has ever worked for you,” he chuckles at that, “i wouldn’t stand it.”

the strawberry head shrugs, “tried and tested true for a reason,” then he leans his shoulder against the wall next to you.

“what’s your name, bambi?” he asks you, biting down his lip as he smiles.

the nickname comes from your doe makeup and the little tail on your skirt. looks like you are not the only one who makes nicknames.

you respond while turning to face him, “what is yours?”

“heeseung,” you admit it, ‘strawberry head’ will be missed but you like this one better.

“it’s cute,” you nod and he laughs.

“and yours isn’t?” he immediately says back. he rolls your name on his tongue, dear god . “it suits you well, i like it.”

you huff humoredly, “i will tell my parents you are a fan,” you don’t forget to emphasis on his name and hold your drink up, “heeseung.”

“i hope i will be able to tell them myself one day,” he teases when you drink, making your choke.

well, that was quite risky— although, still very smooth, you will give him that.

your eyes wide and your mouth falls open is a surprised smile. your face must be funny because heeseung lets out a genuine laugh, that goes beyond the sound of the loud music.

“take me to dinner first!” you tell him, while watching his body vibrate because of his laughter.

the tall man gets serious pretty quickly after the words leave your mouth, he looks at you like he had you exactly where he wanted.

“well,” he starts and his smirk is back again. “what about tonight?”

you can only blink at him for a moment. as if it was written on it; you scan his entire face in a hope of an answer. oh.

“diner?” you ask, he hums. “tonight?” he hums again and your knees weaken a bit. “but we barely know each other!”

“we can get to!” his smile is more than evident in his voice, on his pink lips. “over diner!”

he got you pressing your lips together and fighting back a smile like a highschool girl. the debate doesn’t take very long in your head, you just need to bite your inner cheek to get yourself to say it.

strawberry head’s face is full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder who looks the most idiotic between the two of you.

you sigh, then giggle, “fine, you convinced me.”

the guy smiles. and after you successfully say goodbye to your friends while avoiding all their questions, everything gets wrapped pretty well.

soon you stand a few meters away from heeseung’s means of transport.

“you have a bike,” you sound half impressed, half incredulous.

heeseung, with his strawberry costume, has the audacity to look at you with an utterly shocked and offended expression splashed on his face. he even puts his hand on his heart.

“am i not cool enough to have one?” he asks as he leans on his motorcycle.

you take one step closer to him, letting your fingertips run through the leather seat. it is cool, very much so. him, despise his bright red ensemble, too.

you chuckle, “it just doesn’t match your costume,” you confess and he chuckles. “you are like my very own james dean,” you turn your gaze back to him, “very cool to me.”

his look softens, his hand offered to you and helping you when you get on the passenger sit. he speaks again :

“i promise to take care of you.” he whispers before letting your hand go gently. “i know a good restaurant a couple of blocks away.” you want to ask him if he doesn’t feel a bit ridiculous wearing this. “are you comfortable?

you thank your past self for choosing a black short instead of a skirt to wear with your black top and boots, “yeah,” you nod. “thank you.”

the wind runs through his hair when he takes off his strawberry head. it takes your breath away instantly. he was already beautiful before but now, this is something beyond and different.

of course, his hair is pink.

“wouldn’t like to see it flying, would we?” he jokes and you only blink, eyes following him as he gets behind the bike and puts the strawberry in the box. he takes a helmet and comes back to you.

he gets on the bike, so close to you when he turns around.

your world completely collapse when he puts the helmet on your head for you, “i only got one,” he speaks, eyes focused on his fingers adjusting the helmet. “didn’t know a pretty girl like you would let me carry her around, you know?”

thankfully, the tinted visor can hide your blushing face. and your stupid smile. halas— it can’t hide your giggles.

“i saw it in a dream of mine,” you respond when he turns around. you embrace his waist, “i knew the trajectory of you life would be changed tonight.”

heeseung laughs again.

as he starts the engine you whisper in his ear, “is it the part where you tell me to hold on tight?”

“i think you are doing that already, doll,” he taps your hand.

and man, what a ride it was.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

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bueckets · 1 month ago

Text

Prophecy | Finale

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Parts: Part One | Two | Three (you're here)

Description: Following the viral video of Paige and Azzi, you spend the next three months redefining what perfect means. Each shot becomes a statement, each swish echoing with something colder than precision. Your teammates watch you stay late every night, turning heartbreak into headlines, until even UConn's dynasty seems breakable.

The game approaches like destiny. Harvard versus UConn in the Final Four, a collision course that ESPN calls "The Game Women's Basketball Has Been Waiting For." Twenty thousand tickets sell out in minutes. The whole sport holds its breath.

You haven't spoken to Paige since that night in the snow. Haven't read her texts or opened her letter. Instead, you let your game speak - 47 against Princeton, 51 against Yale, perfect shooting in both. They call it The Revenge Tour, though you never bother correcting them.

Now Dallas looms like a storm on the horizon. One game to prove that some things break you, and some things make you unbreakable.

This is the story of which one you become.

WC: 11k

WEEK ONE

After that night in the gym, you don’t miss. Not once.

Every shot is a calculation, a release, a fury of physics and heartbreak. Each arc is perfect, each swish feels like vengeance. The ball obeys because it has to. Because it’s the only thing left that makes sense.

Paige’s texts come in like a storm. Desperate, raw, and relentless:

Monday (3:47 AM): please just let me explain.

Monday (4:15 AM): it wasn't what it looked like.

Monday (4:22 AM): i miss you.

Monday (4:45 AM): please answer.

You sit on your bed staring at the ceiling, the blue glow of your phone lighting the room like a taunt. Sierra grabs it from your hands and sets it face down on your desk. “Nope.”

By Tuesday, the messages get sharper, more frantic

Tuesday (2:13 AM): i know you’re mad. i’d be mad too.

Tuesday (3:01 AM): rocket, please. you mean everything to me.

Tuesday (3:45 AM): i never meant to hurt you. i’d do anything to take it back.

By Wednesday, she calls. Seventeen times. Sierra’s thumb hovers over the block button. Jasmine glances at you, but you just lace up your shoes and head for the gym.

Thursday, the texts shift to something softer, almost pleading:

"i know you're reading these."

"just tell me you're okay."

"god, i miss you."

"please just talk to me"

Sierra and Jasmine take turns deleting the messages before you can see them, but you know. You always know.

“She’s hurting,” Jasmine says carefully one night, her voice soft like she’s walking a tightrope.

"Good," you respond, and sink another three.

WEEK TWO

The texts get longer, more rambling.

"i know i screwed up. i don’t even know how to start fixing it. all i know is that i want to."

"i miss how you made me feel like the best version of myself. like i could do anything."

"i miss you solving equations while watching film. i miss your voice. i miss you."

"rocket, i love you. i don’t care if you don’t believe me right now, but it’s the truth. i love you."

"please just tell me to fuck off or something. anything is better than this silence."

You don’t read them, but Sierra does. She updates you with clipped summaries: “She’s still apologizing. Still desperate.” You just nod, focusing on your form. Release. Swish.

“She says she loves you,” Sierra says one day, her voice careful.

“Doesn’t matter,” you reply, grabbing another ball.

WEEK THREE

Thursday evening, it snows. Heavy, wet flakes that stick to the ground and blanket campus in white. You’re in the gym, as always, the only sound the steady rhythm of the ball hitting the floor, then the net.

Sierra bursts in, out of breath, snowflakes clinging to her jacket.

“She’s here,” she says, voice strained.

You pause mid-shot, the ball resting heavy in your hands. “What?”

“Paige,” Sierra says. “She’s outside. Just standing there. She’s not leaving until you talk to her.”

You blink, your pulse quickening. “In the snow?”

“Yes. In the snow,” Sierra snaps. “Want me to handle it?”

You glance at the door, at the faint glow of the snowstorm through the windows. Your chest feels tight.

“I’ll do it,” you say quietly.

Sierra looks surprised but doesn’t argue. “You sure?”

You nod, dropping the ball onto the rack. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

You push open the gym door, and the cold hits you like a slap. The snow is coming down hard now, heavy flakes swirling in the wind and catching in your hair, on your lashes, melting instantly on your skin. The air bites at your face, sharp and unforgiving, and you pull your sweatshirt tighter around you as you step into the storm.

Paige is there.

She’s standing under the dim glow of the parking lot light, a lone figure against the blanketed white. Her coat is too thin for this weather, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if that could keep the cold out. Snowflakes dust her hair, her shoulders, even her lashes, sticking there like delicate glass. Her nose and cheeks are red, raw from the wind, and her breath comes out in uneven clouds that catch the faint light before disappearing.

Your heart pounds as you take her in. It’s not fair, how seeing her still makes your chest tighten, how her very presence feels like it could knock you off balance. You feel your feet ache against the frozen pavement, the sting of cold air in your lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the burn in your chest.

She looks up as you approach, her eyes locking onto yours immediately. They’re red, glassy, the unmistakable sheen of unshed tears making them glisten. She uncrosses her arms, her hands trembling, and takes a single step forward.

“Rocket,” she says, and her voice cracks. Just that one word, and it’s enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

You stop a few feet away, planting your sneakers firmly into the snow to keep steady. Your throat feels tight, your tongue heavy. For a moment, you can’t speak. You just stare at her, the silence between you as thick as the snow falling all around.

“What are you doing here?” you manage finally. Your voice is sharper than you intended, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to sound anything but cold.

She shifts, wiping her hands on her coat as if that’ll stop them from shaking. “I—I had to see you,” she stammers. “You weren’t answering, and I just—” Her voice breaks again, and she swallows hard, trying to steady herself. “I just needed to try.”

The words hang in the air, weighty and raw. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay grounded, to not let your emotions spiral. The wind picks up, whipping snowflakes against your face, and you blink hard against the sting.

“You’ve said enough,” you say, your voice flat.

“I know,” she says quickly, stepping forward again. Her boots crunch against the snow, and the sound feels deafening in the quiet. “I know I’ve said everything wrong. I don’t even know if there’s anything left to say. I just—” She takes a shaky breath, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I need you to know how sorry I am. How I got into my head leading up to it. I was scared. I’m sorry. For everything. For ruining us.”

Your breath catches at that, and your chest tightens even more. Her words hit like a weight, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, you don’t trust yourself to respond. You feel the sting in your fingers, the way the cold air pinches your ears, the dull ache in your feet from standing still too long.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, Paige,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound steady. “It was trust. It was everything we had.”

She nods quickly, tears finally spilling over. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to hide it, but her hands are shaking too much. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I know I broke it. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting you.”

The tears keep falling, streaking down her red cheeks, and she doesn’t bother wiping them anymore. Her shoulders shake, but she doesn’t look away from you. You want to turn away, to stop seeing her like this, but you can’t. Your eyes burn, your throat feels raw, and the weight in your chest only grows heavier.

“I loved you,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Her breath catches audibly, and you see her shoulders slump further, like the words are knives she’s been bracing for.

“I love you,” she says, her voice breaking entirely. “I still love you. I’ll always love you.”

The snow falls harder now, coating everything in a thick, suffocating white. You feel it collect on your shoulders, your hair, melting down your neck. Paige shivers, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, her breaths coming out in ragged clouds.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you stare at Paige. The snow falls heavier now, landing on her lashes and melting against her flushed cheeks. Her nose is red, her hands trembling as they clench at her sides. The cold bites at your skin, your ears pinching, your feet aching, but none of it feels as sharp as the weight in your chest.

“Go home,” you say, your voice cracking slightly despite your attempt to sound firm.

Paige doesn’t move. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes stay locked on yours, brimming with fresh tears. Her lips part, but no words come, just a soft, shaky breath. Then:

“Please,” she whispers, barely audible over the wind. Her voice is raw, broken, and it hits you like a punch. She takes a step closer, her boots crunching in the snow, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to reach for you but knows she can’t. “Please,” she says again, the word shaking with everything she’s trying to say but can’t.

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening as you force yourself to stand your ground. “Paige,” you say, softer now, almost pleading yourself. “Go home.”

She flinches, like the words physically hurt, but she doesn’t argue this time. She nods slowly, blinking hard against the tears streaming down her face. Her shoulders slump as she turns away, her steps hesitant, dragging in the snow like she’s leaving pieces of herself behind with every step.

You watch her walk toward the far end of the parking lot, her figure blurry through the curtain of falling snow. She stops once, just for a moment, her back to you. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, but the motion is weak, almost futile. Then she moves again, trudging toward the lone car parked under the faint glow of a streetlamp.

The driver’s side window rolls down as Paige approaches, and you see KK leaning out, her face a mix of concern and frustration. KK says something—low and sharp, the words lost in the wind—and Paige shakes her head, opening the passenger door and climbing in without another glance in your direction.

The car idles for a moment, exhaust puffing into the frozen air, and you catch a glimpse of KK glancing your way, her gaze hard but questioning, like she’s debating whether to come out and say something. But she doesn’t.

The brake lights flare as the car shifts into gear, and then they’re gone, disappearing down the snow-covered road.

You stay rooted to the spot, the cold seeping through your clothes, the sound of their departure fading into silence. You don’t move for a long time, staring at the empty space where they’d been, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

You stand there long after the car disappears into the swirling snow, the cold seeping into your bones. Your feet ache from standing still, your fingers sting from the frost, and your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. You force yourself to turn, your legs heavy as you walk back toward the gym, the door looming like a safe haven you don’t feel like you deserve.

The moment you push it open, the heat rushes out to meet you, thick and suffocating. It hits your face like a wall, and suddenly, you realize how cold you were—how raw your skin feels, how your ears throb with the warmth sinking in. You blink against the hot air, your vision blurring, and that’s when you feel it. The damp streaks on your cheeks, the burning in your eyes.

You were crying.

The thought stuns you for a moment, but there’s no time to process it. Your feet move automatically, carrying you deeper into the gym. The echo of your footsteps bounces off the empty court, the sound sharp and hollow in the stillness. You make your way to the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber hitting you like a memory you didn’t ask for.

Inside, Sierra and Jasmine are waiting. They’re sitting on one of the benches, their expressions tight and unsure, like they don’t know what to say—or if they should say anything at all.

Your eyes meet Sierra’s first, and the look she gives you is soft, pitying, like she’s trying to hold you together with just her gaze. Jasmine looks away quickly, her hands fiddling with the strings of her hoodie, her shoulders tense with unspoken guilt.

Neither of them says a word.

You don’t either. You don’t have the energy.

You walk past them, your legs threatening to give out, and sink onto the bench in front of your locker. The cold from outside is still in your body, lingering in your muscles, making everything ache. You press your hands to your knees, trying to ground yourself, but the weight in your chest is too much.

It breaks.

You bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as the sobs finally come. They tear out of you, raw and uncontrollable, and you can’t stop them even if you wanted to. The locker room fills with the sound of your crying—ugly, unfiltered, and nothing like The Prophecy at all.

Sierra shifts behind you, and for a moment, you think she’s going to say something. But she doesn’t. Neither of them does. They just sit there, giving you space to break apart, their quiet presence the only thing holding you from completely falling apart.

Your tears soak into your palms, your breath coming in gasps, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel the full weight of it all. The cold, the betrayal, the way her voice cracked when she said, “I love you.” It crashes over you, relentless and unrelenting.

And you let it.

Because in this moment, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to calculate the pain away or turn it into fuel.

For now, you just let yourself break.

WEEK SIX

Her last attempt comes in the form of a letter. Handwritten. Twelve pages. Sierra finds it slipped under your door one gray morning, the paper just slightly bent, as though it had been clenched tightly before being left there.

“Want me to burn it?” Sierra asks, holding it up like it’s fragile, like even touching it too long might do damage.

You don’t answer at first, your eyes fixed on the envelope. Your name is written in Paige’s handwriting, unmistakably hers—soft, looping, careful. It looks like she spent a long time on just that one word. The ink is smudged in places, faint blotches where you know she must have paused, maybe wiped her eyes.

“Rocket?” Sierra asks again, her voice gentler this time.

You reach out, hesitating before your fingers brush the paper. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding every unsaid word she couldn’t force into those desperate texts, every plea she couldn’t voice the last time she saw you.

“No,” you say quietly, your voice firm despite the knot in your chest. “Don’t burn it.”

Sierra doesn’t press. “What should I do with it?”

You swallow hard, still staring at the envelope like it might crack open on its own. “Keep it,” you murmur finally. “For after March.”

The corner of her mouth twitches in a faint, understanding nod. She tucks the letter carefully into her bag without another word.

Because that’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it? Every ignored call, every perfect shot, every breath you’ve taken since that night in the gym has been leading to one thing: March.

Two weeks later, the bracket drops.

Harvard vs. UConn. Sweet Sixteen.

You hear whispers everywhere—teammates speculating, reporters asking veiled questions about how you feel about the matchup. You stay quiet, dodging the noise with an unshakable focus that keeps the world at bay.

Paige doesn’t text. She doesn’t call. But one night, you see it.

It’s subtle, so subtle you almost miss it: a photo on her Instagram story.

She’s sitting on the floor of her dorm, the soft golden light of a bedside lamp pooling around her. Her knees are drawn to her chest, her head resting on her arms. There’s no caption, no obvious sign of you. But in the corner of the frame, hanging off the back of a chair, is your Harvard hoodie.

The air leaves your lungs.

It’s so small, so quiet, but it feels loud in your chest.

Sierra notices you staring at your phone and gives you a sharp look. “Don’t,” she warns.

“I’m not,” you reply, locking your phone and sliding it across the table.

And you aren’t.

Instead, you lace up your sneakers and head to the gym.

30 DAYS TO MARCH MADNESS

The bracket predictions start rolling in. Every analyst has the same storyline: Harvard and UConn are destined to meet in the championship.

ESPN calls it "The Game Women's Basketball Has Been Waiting For."

You don’t watch their coverage. You don’t need to. You just shoot.

Paige’s last text comes at 2 AM:

“i still miss you.”

You delete it without reading. (Sierra tells you about it later anyway.)

25 DAYS

“Did you hear?” Jasmine says as she slides into the locker room after practice, her voice quieter than usual.

You don’t look up. “Hear what?”

“Paige was at some party last night. Someone saw her with... someone.”

You pause mid-lace, your fingers tightening. “And?”

“She’s... moving on. Or trying to.”

Later, Sierra shows you the photo: Paige with her arm around a tall blonde, both laughing like the world doesn’t hurt them.

You close your phone, drop it in your bag, and hit the gym for 200 straight shots. Each one lands, clean and precise, but your chest tightens with every swish.

At midnight, Sierra finds you still there. “She’s doing this on purpose,” she says softly.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to make you feel what she’s feeling.”

You grab another ball, square your shoulders. “Bold of her to assume I still care.”

(You do. God, you do.)

20 DAYS

Your game is evolving. Whatever limits you thought existed don’t anymore. You’re not just making shots—you’re erasing boundaries.

Reporters ask Coach about it after Harvard crushes Penn by 30 points. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

She shakes her head, her voice filled with awe. “She’s playing like someone who has nothing left to lose.”

Because you don’t.

15 DAYS

Another photo surfaces: Paige dancing at a club, the same blonde close enough to blur the line between friendly and intimate. The image spreads through whispers, not headlines, but it’s enough to reach you.

The next morning, Jasmine deletes all your social media apps. “Focus on what matters,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

So you do:

47 points against Princeton.

51 against Yale.

Perfect shooting in both games.

The whispers around you grow louder. People call it The Revenge Tour, though you don’t bother correcting them.

You let your game speak for itself.

10 DAYS

Harvard enters March Madness ranked #1 for the first time in school history. UConn is #2.

The narrative writes itself:

Ice vs Fire.

You hear the buzz but tune it out. Paige posts a hype video for the tournament. There’s no sign of you in her clips, but you don’t need to be.

That night, you shoot until your arms shake. The sound of each swish reverberates through the gym, the echoes cutting through your chest like heartbreak.

5 DAYS

The tournament begins, and you burn through the first two rounds like wildfire:

45 points against Florida State.

52 against Tennessee.

You still haven’t missed.

UConn advances too. Paige plays like she’s on fire, dropping 38 against Duke and 41 against LSU. But she misses. She stumbles. She’s human. She’s flawed.

You tell yourself that’s why she couldn’t keep you. Because perfection is lonely.

2 DAYS

The Final Four is set: Harvard vs. UConn. The matchup everyone’s been waiting for.

Your teammates feel the weight of it, the buzz of history swirling around them, but you stay quiet. Focused.

“Are you ready?” Coach asks after practice.

You glance at her, your expression steady. “Always.”

1 DAY

The press conference is brutal. Every question is a thinly veiled attempt to dig into the drama. Paige. The rumors.

You give them nothing.

“I’m here to play basketball,” you say flatly. “Nothing else matters.”

Later that night, alone in your hotel room, you stare at the letter Sierra saved weeks ago. It sits on the desk like it’s daring you to open it.

Your hands shake as you unfold the pages.

The first three lines hit harder than you expect:

"I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know I broke something perfect. I know I lost the best thing that ever happened to me."

You stop reading. You don’t need to see the rest.

The paper burns easily in the sink, the edges curling in on themselves like the words are folding into ash.

Tomorrow isn’t about forgiveness.

It’s about proving that some things break you.

And some things make you unbreakable.

Time to show her which one you are.

THE FINAL FOUR: HARVARD VS UCONN

The arena in Dallas feels alive, like it has a pulse of its own. Twenty thousand fans pack the stands, and the roar of the crowd is more than sound—it’s energy, crackling in the air, vibrating through the floor. You can feel it in your chest, in the way your heart beats a little faster as you stand in the tunnel, waiting.

This is the game. The one people will talk about for decades.

“Harvard vs. UConn,” ESPN’s voices echo faintly from the screens overhead, carrying over the din “The Game Women’s Basketball Has Been Waiting For.”

“Harvard’s perfect season against UConn’s dynasty.”

“Two programs. Two stars. One unmissable collision course.”

You don’t look at the screens. Don’t let the noise creep in. You focus instead on the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of the ball in your hands, the perfect arcs playing out in your mind. Force vectors, trajectories, momentum. The physics of what’s about to happen.

Sierra steps up beside you, her face all business, her game face as sharp as you’ve ever seen it. “You good?”

You nod once. She doesn’t ask if you’re sure. She’s seen you these past weeks—seen the extra hours, the obsession, the way you’ve turned heartbreak into something almost unrecognizable. She’s seen you rewrite what’s possible when perfect turns to steel.

“They’re out there,” Jasmine says quietly, stepping up on your other side.

Your stomach tightens, but you don’t let it show.

“You’re sure you’re good?” Sierra presses, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m perfect,” you say flatly, the word cold and sharp.

The crowd’s roar deepens, and you know UConn must be taking the court for warmups. You can picture it without looking: Paige leading them out, her stride confident, her expression poised. She feeds off this energy, always has, like she was built for these moments.

You think about everything—every ignored text, every late-night practice, every time Paige’s name appeared on your phone screen and you turned away. You think about the letter, folded and burned, its words turned to ash: "I know I broke something perfect."

“I’m ready,” you say, voice steady.

Coach nods. “Good.” She turns to the team. “Ladies, listen up. Everything we’ve worked for comes down to tonight. They’re bigger, they’re stronger, and they’ve got more banners in their gym than we’ll ever see. But we’ve got something they don’t.”

She looks at you, and there's something fierce in her eyes.

"We've got perfect."

The team huddles up, hands in. But before they can do their usual chant, you speak. It's the first time you've addressed them all day.

"When we take that court," your voice is quiet but carries weight, "you're going to hear a lot of noise. They're going to talk about everything except basketball. But that's not why we're here."

Your teammates lean in closer.

"We're here because I made you all a promise three years ago. That we'd make history. That we'd show the world what Harvard basketball really is. That we'd be perfect when it matters most."

You look each of them in the eye.

"Tonight, we keep that promise."

The tunnel erupts in fierce agreement. Your teammates are ready for war.

"One minute!" calls the official.

You close your eyes for a moment, center yourself. Think about all the shots that led here. All the nights in empty gyms. All the physics problems solved between free throws. All the moments that built The Prophecy.

And yes, you think about her. About early mornings in her dorm. Late nights watching film. The way she said your name like it was something precious. The way she looked at someone else the same way.

The anger rises, cold and precise. You use it, let it sharpen your focus until everything else falls away.

The tunnel lights flicker as the official signals. It’s time.

"Ready?" Sierra asks one last time.

You step toward the light of the arena, toward the noise, toward destiny.

"Perfect," you say.

And then you emerge into madness.

The sound hits you like a wave the second you step onto the court. It’s not just noise; it’s a force, a physical thing that presses against you, vibrating in your chest.

"THE PROPHECY! THE PROPHECY! THE PROPHECY!"

The chant rolls through the arena like thunder, swelling as the crowd rises to their feet. Signs wave above the sea of faces:

"PERFECTION WEARS CRIMSON"

"847-2: THE PROPHECY SPEAKS"

Your entrance stops UConn's warmups cold. Every player freezes mid-drill, even the legendary Geno Auriemma turns to watch. You catch Paige's reaction in your peripheral vision—the way she stumbles slightly, ball slipping from her fingers. But you don't look at her. Won't give her that.

The Harvard section is delirious, but it's more than that. The neutral fans, the media, even some UConn supporters are on their feet. This is what happens when you spend three months turning heartbreak into headlines, when you take "perfect" and make it look easy.

Your teammates hit the court, their warmups sharper, fueled by the energy of the crowd. But your routine is different. Quieter. Singular.

You start at the three-point line, the ball resting in your hands. The noise fades as you focus, your heartbeat steadying. One shot.

Swish.

The explosion of noise is deafening. You don't react. Just catch, shoot, swish. Again. Again. Again.

On the other end, UConn's trying to maintain their composure, but you can feel their eyes on you. Feel the way their usual swagger has been replaced by something else. Something that looks like doubt.

Your teammates are feeding off the energy now. Sierra drills a corner three, the ball cutting through the net with a satisfying snap. Jasmine blocks one of Taylor’s layups in a mock defensive drill, both of them grinning fiercely.

"Focus on our game!" Geno barks, but even he keeps glancing your way.

The media's having a field day. Every camera in the building is trained on you, catching every perfect shot, every ice-cold expression. ESPN's commentary carries over the speakers:

"We're watching something unprecedented here, Rebecca. The Prophecy isn't just perfect anymore—she's transcendent. Look at the way UConn's players are watching her. They're supposed to be the dynasty, the standard-bearers, but right now they look shook—"

And still, you don’t look at Paige.

The crowd's volume keeps building, impossibly louder with each perfect shot you make. NBA players sitting courtside are shaking their heads in disbelief. Olympic champions in the stands are filming on their phones. This isn't just a warmup anymore—it's a statement.

Finally, mercifully for UConn, the buzzer sounds to clear the court for final preparations. As the teams head to their benches, you allow yourself one glance at their side. Just one.

Paige is standing near the sideline, her hands resting on her hips, her gaze fixed on you. For a split second, your eyes meet. Her expression shifts—shock, pain, something that might be regret.

You hold her gaze for a beat longer, then turn away, your face unreadable.

You turn away, face impassive. But inside, the cold fire burns hotter.

Because this isn’t about her anymore.

This isn’t about heartbreak or revenge.

This is about showing the world what happens when perfect stops trying to be loved.

And starts trying to be legendary.

The starting lineups are about to be announced, and the arena hums with anticipation, the kind of energy that makes the hair on your arms stand on end. It’s not just loud—it’s electric, like the walls themselves are holding their breath. Every cheer, every chant, every flash of a camera feels sharper, brighter, heavier. History is about to be made.

The announcer’s voice booms, reverberating through the cavernous space, calling out names that blur into the roar of the crowd. You barely hear them��don’t need to. You’re locked in. You can feel the ball’s weight in your hand even though you’re not holding it, the phantom rhythm of your dribble steadying your pulse.

The Prophecy is about to speak.

And everyone—Paige, UConn, the world—is about to listen.

Sierra wins the tip with authority, the ball snapping to Maria like it’s been rehearsed a thousand times. Harvard’s ball. The crowd leans forward collectively, the sound dropping to an expectant hum as you cross half court, their energy feeding into the moment.

UConn’s defense is already set. You see it as soon as you step over the timeline: box-and-one. Four players sagging into a tight zone, leaving Paige on you.

Of course they’d make her guard you. Of course.

She’s close, closer than you expected, the kind of tight defense that borders on personal. Her eyes flicker for a moment, uncertainty bleeding through her usual focus.

“Please…” she whispers, so quiet it almost gets lost in the noise. “Can we just—”

You don’t let her finish.

A crossover—quick, precise, lethal—cuts her off mid-sentence. The crowd gasps, a collective intake of breath, as Paige stumbles, her footing faltering for just a second. But a second is all you need.

You rise up from 25 feet, the motion as natural as breathing. Perfect form. Perfect rotation.

Swish.

The crowd detonates.

3-0 Harvard.

"THE PROPHECY STRIKES FIRST!" The announcer can barely contain himself. "ICE COLD FROM DEEP!"

UConn pushes the ball upcourt fast, their transition game as polished as ever. Paige has that look now—the one that used to make your chest tighten, the one that once made you believe she could do anything. Now, it’s just data to process, another variable in the equation you’ve already solved.

She drives hard to the right, her speed and body control flawless. She’s counting on you to back off, to avoid contact, to give her just enough room for the pull-up jumper she’s perfected.

But you don’t.

Your body stays with hers, every step mirrored, every shift anticipated. When she rises for the shot, your hand is already there, contesting at the perfect angle. The ball leaves her hands, spinning slightly off-axis.

Clank.

The sound of the ball hitting the rim feels louder than it should, the miss reverberating through the arena like a misstep in a symphony.

“REJECTION!” The crowd erupts again, their voices rising to a fever pitch. “THE PROPHECY WITH THE PERFECT DEFENSE ON THE PRINCE!”

Maria grabs the rebound and pushes the break. You trail deliberately, your movements fluid, waiting for the play to unfold. The ball swings to you on the wing. Another catch. Another perfect release.

Swish.

6-0 Harvard.

Geno Auriemma doesn’t hesitate. Timeout, 47 seconds in. His voice carries across the court, sharp and commanding as he pulls his players in, trying to steady a ship that’s already rocking.

The ESPN commentators are incredulous. “I’ve never seen anything like this! The Prophecy isn’t just scoring—she’s controlling the entire game. And having Paige Bueckers guard her it’s psychological warfare at its finest.”

In the huddle, Coach Matthews stays calm, her voice steady amidst the chaos. “Keep executing. They’re rattled.”

Your teammates nod, feeding off her composure. You don’t say anything, don’t need to. The look in your eyes says enough.

Back on the court, UConn shifts their defense. KK Arnold takes over guarding you, her physicality immediately apparent. Paige shifts to Jasmine, but you feel her eyes on you anyway, like a weight pressing against your back.

You make her pay for it.

A quick backdoor cut—sharp, timed to perfection—leaves her a step behind. Maria sees it instantly, the lob arcing perfectly into your hands. You lay it in cleanly, barely breaking stride.

8-0 Harvard.

The UConn section is restless now, the nervous energy rippling through their chants.

From the crowd you hear, “She's not that special! Lock her up!"

The next time down, you catch the ball at the top of the key, KK’s hand pressing into your hip. You rise anyway, unfazed. The ball barely brushes the net on its way through.

11-0 Harvard.

Geno is furious, calling out defensive adjustments. But there's something different about UConn's energy—they're not just trailing, they're shook.

Paige tries to take over, driving hard to the rim with an intensity that feels more desperate than controlled. Her first step is sharp, her movements calculated, but there’s something frantic in the way she moves—like she’s trying to match you shot for shot, trying to prove something to herself as much as to the crowd.

Her floater arcs high but catches the back iron and rolls out.

The crowd groans, the sound rippling through the UConn section like a wave of disbelief. Paige’s jaw tightens as she sprints back on defense, but you’ve already moved on, focused, untouchable.

On the next possession, she pulls up for a three. It’s a clean look, her form textbook, but the ball rims out again, drawing a gasp from the fans and a loud clank that echoes through the arena.

Then she drives again, barreling into the paint, trying to force her way through Sierra’s perfect positioning. The ball pops loose, Sierra’s quick hands stripping it clean, and the Harvard section explodes in cheers.

Meanwhile, you’re somewhere else entirely.

Athletes talk about it, but few ever get there: the space where time slows, where the game feels less like competition and more like art. The roar of the crowd fades into a low hum, the edges of the court softening as everything sharpens around the ball in your hands.

It’s not just instinct—it’s control, precision, the physics of perfection in every step. Each shot feels inevitable, each movement unfolding like an equation you’ve already solved.

On defense, you can feel the tension radiating from UConn, their movements tighter, their communication louder. When Emma finally scores off a put-back—muscling through a sea of Harvard defenders—the UConn section celebrates like it’s a game-winner.

11-2 Harvard.

You glance at the scoreboard, then at your teammates, your calm focus unshaken. They know what’s coming next.

You show UConn what victory really looks like.

KK Arnold presses into you as you bring the ball up the court, her hands swiping aggressively, trying to throw you off balance. You shift your weight left, plant your foot, and cross over so quickly it sends her stumbling, her arms flailing for balance as the crowd gasps.

You take one step back, rising effortlessly over Caroline’s outstretched arms as she contests, her fingertips barely brushing the air beneath the ball.

Swish.

16-2 Harvard.

The Harvard bench leaps to their feet, arms raised, while the UConn section sits frozen, unsure of how to react. Geno is pacing now, barking orders to his team, his sharp voice cutting through the tension.

"We're watching history," the announcer's voice trembles with excitement. "The Prophecy isn't just winning—she's rewriting what's possible in this sport."

Paige is pressing harder, trying to shoulder the burden of momentum, but it’s slipping through her fingers. She forces another drive, this time straight into Sierra, who holds her ground like a wall. The whistle doesn’t blow, and Paige stumbles as the ball goes loose again, Maria scooping it up and feeding you on the wing.

The moment your hands touch the ball, you already know what’s going to happen.

Perfect rhythm. Perfect form. Perfect swish.

UConn tries everything: double teams, traps, full-court pressure. Nothing works. You split defenders like they're standing still, find teammates for open shots when they sell out to stop you, and when they give you any space at all.

The quarter ends with one final dagger. UConn tries to hold for the last shot, but you read Paige's eyes—you always could read her eyes—and jump the passing lane. The steal leads to a breakaway with three seconds left.

Most players would lay it in. Safe. Smart.

But The Prophecy isn't most players.

You take off from just inside the free-throw line, rising up as the buzzer sounds. The ball leaves your hands at the perfect angle, with the perfect spin, following the perfect arc.

Swish. As time expires.

29-10 Harvard.

The arena absolutely detonates. Your teammates mob you as you walk calmly to the bench. Even Coach Matthews cracks a smile.

In their huddle, you can see Geno gesturing frantically, see Paige's head hanging.

But none of that matters.

Because this isn't about them anymore.

This is about perfect.

And perfect is just getting started.

The second quarter opens with UConn desperate to change the momentum. Their energy is sharp, frantic, the kind that comes from a team not used to being punched first. Geno has abandoned the box-and-one, switching to a triangle-and-two defense. It’s designed to suffocate you—two defenders shadowing your every step, cutting off your air, daring the rest of your team to beat them.

You glance at Paige and KK as they close in, their feet shuffling in sync. Paige’s jaw is tight, her expression unreadable, but there’s tension in her shoulders, the kind you’ve seen in every film session this week. KK is louder, her movements brash, barking orders at the rest of the defense.

The first possession, you take the ball at the top of the key, waiting for the defense to swarm. KK gets there first, her hands low and active, trying to force you left. Paige closes in immediately after, her presence suffocating.

You don’t flinch. You shift just enough to pull both defenders with you, then flick a no-look pass to Sierra cutting baseline. The ball drops into her hands, and she lays it in cleanly, untouched.

31-10 Harvard.

"The Prophecy showing she can dominate without scoring!" ESPN's excitement builds. "This is basketball genius at its finest!"

Then it happens.

Four minutes into the quarter. Harvard up 37-15. You shake loose from the double team, slicing through the defense like a knife through fabric. Sierra's screen creating the perfect angle of separation (47 degrees, optimal for catch-and-shoot scenarios), your feet set precisely shoulder-width apart, knees bent at the textbook 110-degree angle.

The ball feels good leaving your hands—perfect, even. The rotation is clean, the arc flawless, the trajectory straight out of a physics textbook. It’s the kind of shot you’ve made thousands of times. The kind of shot you don’t even need to watch to know it’s good.

But sometimes, the universe has other plans.

The ball hits the back rim, bouncing straight up, a little too high, a little too slow. It hovers for an agonizing second.

The entire arena holds its breath. Twenty thousand people frozen, watching the impossible happen. The ball hangs there, defying gravity for one more precious second, before falling away.

You’ve missed.

The UConn bench explodes, their cheers wild and unfiltered, like they’ve just won the championship. Their fans echo the celebration, chants swelling and overlapping.

"SHE’S HUMAN! SHE’S HUMAN!”

Paige takes a step toward you, instinct guiding her more than logic. It’s the same look you’ve seen in practices, in dorm rooms, in quiet moments when her guard was down. She wants to reach out, to say something, to bridge the gap between who you were to each other and who you are now.

But she stops herself. Her foot hovers for half a second before she steps back, her hand falling limp at her side. She remembers where she is. Who she’s supposed to be to you now.

And still, everyone waits.

Your teammates glance at you nervously. They’ve seen what happens when you miss. They know the last time you broke. They know why.

But you're not the same person who broke in that dark gym.

Instead of shattering, you do something no one expects.

You smile.

It’s small, controlled, more ice than warmth, but it’s enough to send a ripple through the arena. The silence shifts into something sharper, heavier.

The message is clear: Missing doesn’t break me anymore.

Nothing does.

"Oh my," the ESPN announcer’s voice is barely above a whisper. "That might be the scariest smile I’ve ever seen in basketball."

Next possession.

You take the ball at half court, KK and Paige closing in again. Their energy is different now—more cautious, less certain. They’re waiting for you to pass, waiting for you to hesitate, waiting for the doubt to creep in.

But it doesn’t.

You glance at the defense sagging just slightly, expecting hesitation, and then you do the thing no one else would.

You rise from the logo, the shot pure and effortless, the ball spinning through the air like it was destined to fall.

Swish.

40-15 Harvard.

The arena erupts.

Your teammates are screaming, their hands raised in disbelief. Coach Matthews stands for the first time all game, clipboard forgotten, her face a rare mix of awe and pride.

"THAT'S HOW YOU RESPOND TO ADVERSITY!" ESPN's voice cracks with excitement. "The Prophecy isn't just perfect anymore—she’s unstoppable!"

UConn calls timeout, but it's too late. They've lost whatever psychological edge they thought they'd gained. The rest of the quarter becomes a masterclass:

You hit threes over double teams.

Thread passes through impossible angles.

Turn their defense into a highlight reel of broken ankles and shattered hopes.

By halftime, the score is 52-27 Harvard. You've got 31 points, 8 assists, and a message that's louder than any perfect streak:

Some things break you.

Some things make you unbreakable.

And sometimes, becoming unbreakable is better than being perfect.

The teams head to their locker rooms, but the story of the second quarter isn't the score. It's the smile after the miss. The logo three that followed. The moment when The Prophecy proved that she's not just a perfect player.

HALFTIME

The locker room feels like it’s vibrating, the energy practically bouncing off the walls. Your teammates are loud, voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of disbelief and celebration. Sierra’s pacing, too hyped to sit, while Jasmine reenacts your logo three for the tenth time, miming your shooting form with exaggerated flair.

"DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES?" Sierra's practically dancing. "When you smiled after that miss? I thought they were gonna pass out!"

"That logo three was DISGUSTING," Jasmine adds, mimicking your shooting form. "The disrespect!"

You let their voices wash over you, grounding yourself in the chaos without joining it. Sitting on the bench, you pull a water bottle to your lips, its coolness a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your skin.

But Coach Matthews raises her hand for quiet. "They're going to come out desperate. Geno's never been down this much in a Final Four. Expect everything."

You nod slightly, her words steadying you. She’s right. The storm is coming. You can feel it brewing beyond the walls, the hum of the arena like distant thunder.

Through the locker room door, the halftime show filters in faintly. ESPN’s voices carry over the noise of the crowd:

“Harvard leads UConn 52-27 in the most lopsided first half of a Final Four in recent history…”

“31 points, 8 assists, 12-of-13 shooting, 5 steals. These aren’t just numbers; they’re history in the making…”

“And it’s not just the stats. That smile after the miss? That was the moment The Prophecy stopped being perfect and became something more. Something immortal.”

Sierra catches you listening and grins, holding up her phone. “You’re trending worldwide. Again.”

You wave her off. You don’t care about that. You’ve never cared about that.

But then Jasmine nudges you, her expression shifting from playful to serious as she shows you another text. This one’s from KK.

Paige is crying in the bathroom. Whole team’s shook.

Good.

THIRD QUARTER

The second you see UConn retake the court, you can tell they’ve changed. There’s a new energy to them—sharper, more desperate. Paige’s eyes are slightly red, a telltale glint betraying her earlier tears. But there’s also something dangerous in her expression, the kind of desperation that makes even the best players reckless.

Geno’s thrown everything at the wall. UConn opens with a full-court press, their defenders swarming like bees, aggressive and chaotic.

It’s laughable.

You slice through them on the first possession like they’re standing still. A quick pass to Maria in the corner. Perfect release.

55-27 Harvard.

Paige tries to respond immediately, driving hard to the basket with her head down. The play is pure determination, her shoulders hunched as she barrels into the lane, but you’re ready.

Sliding over, you plant yourself perfectly, your feet set, your body immovable. When she crashes into you, the impact reverberates through your chest, but you don’t budge.

The whistle blows. Offensive foul.

Paige hits the floor hard, her hands slapping against the hardwood. For a split second, instinct kicks in—the memory of a hundred practices where you’d help her up, offer her a hand, a joke, a smile.

But that was then.

Now, you simply turn and walk away, your expression colder than the ice under her feet.

“Ice. Cold,” the announcer breathes, the disbelief palpable.

On the next possession, Paige picks you up full court, her body language bristling with frustration. She presses in close, practically stepping on your toes, her voice low and cracking.

“Please,” she whispers. “Just look at me. Just once.”

You don’t respond.

Instead, you hit her with a combination that feels less like basketball and more like poetry:

Crossover right.

Behind the back left.

Through the legs.

Step-back three.

The crowd doesn’t even wait for the ball to hit the net. The moment Paige stumbles backward, they’re on their feet, screaming.

The shot, of course, is perfect.

58-27 Harvard.

The UConn section is dead silent now. Even Geno has stopped pacing, his arms folded as he stares helplessly at the court. Paige glances toward their bench, her eyes briefly meeting Geno’s, but he has no answers either

Next possession, you wave off the screen, motioning for everyone to clear out. The court feels impossibly wide as Paige crouches in her defensive stance, her body coiled with tension. You can see the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, the way her breathing hitches as she exhales.

Time slows.

Can see the tears threatening at the corners of Paige's eyes.

Can feel twenty thousand people holding their breath.

Perfect isn't about not missing anymore.

Perfect is about what you do next.

The move is pure poetry.

Crossover so quick the cameras barely catch it.

Through the legs at half speed, letting her think she's got you.

Then the acceleration – zero to legendary in a heartbeat.

Paige lunges, trying to stay in front.

The crowd rises as one.

But they don't matter.

Nothing matters except the physics of this moment.

You rise up from 30 feet, Paige's hand right in your face.

Time stops.

The ball arcs through the air like destiny.

Swish.

The arena detonates.

Your teammates mob you as you jog back, their faces alight with disbelief. Even the referees exchange glances, one shaking his head like he’s just witnessed the impossible.

61-33 Harvard.

Paige doesn’t move. She stays rooted to the spot where you left her, her head bowed, her hands on her knees. The weight of the game—of the moment—presses her into the hardwood.

The UConn bench looks like a graveyard.

Perfect breaks back.

The quarter ends with Harvard up 73-41. You've got 45 points on a shot chart that looks like abstract art. Each bucket more impossible than the last. Each move designed to teach them all the same lesson.

FOURTH QUARTER

Ten minutes left in the biggest game in women’s college basketball history. Harvard up 73-41. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, sensing the inevitable.

Paige opens the quarter like someone with nothing left to lose. Her movements are sharper now, more fluid, like she’s untethered from the weight of expectation. There’s desperation in her eyes, but also glimpses of what made her special.

What made her yours, once upon a time.

She hits a deep three. Then another. Her teammates respond, pressing full court, fighting for every inch, clawing for one last stand.

On the next possession, UConn doubles you at half court, but you see the opening before they do. A quick bounce pass threads the needle, hitting Sierra in stride for an uncontested layup.

75-44 Harvard.

The press comes hard again, but you stay poised, letting it collapse around you before sending a no-look pass over your shoulder to Maria in the corner. She drains the three, and the crowd explodes.

78-44 Harvard.

Paige tries to answer with a contested jumper at the other end, and it rattles in. She’s pressing now, forcing every play, trying to drag her team back into a game that’s already slipping away.

Back on offense, you hesitate near the arc, drawing in the defense before flipping a behind-the-back pass to Jasmine cutting baseline. The ball barely touches her hands before it’s in the net.

80-46 Harvard.

Coach Matthews calls timeout to sub you out with 1:32 left. The ovation is deafening—every single person in the arena on their feet, cheering until their voices crack. You’ve got 34 points, 15 assists, and 7 steals, but the numbers barely scratch the surface of what just happened.

You jog to the bench, your teammates mobbing you, their hands slapping your back, their voices a chaotic blur of celebration.

As you pass Paige one last time, there are no words. No need.

You both know what this moment is.

The final buzzer sounds: Harvard 89, UConn 51.

Confetti falls, a blizzard of crimson and gold, as your teammates tackle you in a storm of laughter and tears. Cameras flash everywhere, their lenses capturing history in real time.

You stand at center court, calm amidst the chaos, the weight of the moment settling over you.

Because you did it. You won.

The locker room is a storm of joy, the kind that only comes from rewriting history. Music blasts from a speaker in the corner. Sierra’s leading a conga line with the championship trophy hoisted high. Jasmine and Maria are filming every second, screaming into their phones about being “FINAL FOUR CHAMPIONS, BABY!”

You should be reveling in it. You are, to an extent—smiling as Sierra shoves a bottle of sparkling cider into your hands, laughing as Jasmine accidentally sprays half the team with the foam.

But deep down, there’s an itch you can’t scratch.

You made the statement. You dominated the game. You won the war.

But the battle inside you—the one that started long before tonight—is still unresolved.

Later, when the celebration starts to wind down, you find yourself leaning against a corner of the locker room, still clutching the now-empty bottle of cider. The room feels quieter, though the energy still hums faintly in the air. Your teammates are scattered—some FaceTiming family, others sprawled on benches in blissful exhaustion.

Sierra catches your eye from across the room. She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head slightly, a silent question.

You shake your head. Not yet.

An hour later, you’re back in your hotel room, the championship hat still perched on your head, your phone buzzing endlessly with texts and notifications. Most are from reporters, friends, family. A few from Jasmine and Sierra, who are probably still partying somewhere downstairs.

You scroll through them aimlessly, not sure what you’re looking for until you see her name.

Paige.

She hasn't texted. Not since before the game. Her name sits there like a ghost in your messages, daring you to make the first move. To break the silence that's grown between you like a wall.

For a while, you just sit there, staring at the empty message thread. You replay every moment of the game in your mind—the way her voice cracked when she guarded you, the way she pressed harder and harder as the score slipped further out of reach. The way she nodded, warrior to warrior, as if she knew what you’d just written into history.

And yet, it doesn’t feel complete. Not entirely.

Before you can overthink it, you start typing.

you can come by if you want

The message is simple. No explanations, no context. You don’t even wait to see if she reads it before tossing your phone onto the bed and heading to the bathroom to wash off the night.

When you come back, the screen is lit with her reply:

where?

Your heart stumbles over itself as you type the room number. You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers playing with the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to ignore how your pulse picks up with each passing minute.

The knock, when it comes, is so soft you almost miss it.

For a second, you just stare at the door, your pulse thudding in your ears. The part of you that has spent months building walls tells you not to answer, not to let her in.

But tonight isn’t about walls.

You open the door.

She’s standing there, still in her UConn travel gear, hair tucked under a beanie. Her eyes are tired, rimmed with dark circles, but there’s something in them—something vulnerable, tentative—that catches you off guard.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi.”

You step aside to let her in. She moves hesitantly, as if unsure whether she belongs here.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room feels heavy with unspoken words, with everything the game couldn’t settle.

“You played…” Paige starts, then stops, biting her lip. “You were unbelievable.”

“Thanks.” You cross your arms, leaning against the desk. “You weren’t bad yourself.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, the sound awkward and raw. “I tried.”

Silence stretches between you again. The words you want to say stick to the back of your throat, stubborn and heavy. You watch her hands fidget with the strings of her hoodie, a nervous tell you used to find endearing. Now it just makes your chest ache.

Finally, it’s Paige who breaks the tension.

“I thought it would feel better,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly. “Losing, I mean. Seeing you win. It’s like I needed you to win. I needed you to be okay without me. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.”

Her honesty feels like a gut punch. You unfold your arms, suddenly unable to stay distant. “Paige…”

“I’m sorry,” she rushes out, words tumbling over themselves.“For all of it. For hurting you, for not fighting harder, for—”

“I know,” you cut her off gently, your voice quieter now. “I know.”

She looks at you, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Do you?”

You nod, stepping closer. “Yeah. I do. And I…” You take a shaky breath. “I’m tired of being angry. I don’t want to carry it anymore.”

Her shoulders slump, the tension leaving her body all at once. “I don’t either.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the weight of everything unsaid filling the room.

And then, slowly, you reach out, your hand brushing hers. She looks down at the contact, her lips trembling, and you feel something shift.

Forgiveness isn’t instant. It’s not easy. But it starts here, in this quiet room, with the two of you trying to find your way back to something that feels whole.

“Sit,” you say softly, gesturing to the bed.

She hesitates, then sits down, and for the first time in months, the space between you feels less like a chasm and more like a bridge.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to cross it.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for something. You grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge, needing something to do with your hands.

“Want one?” you ask, holding it up.

Paige glances at you, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You hand it to her, and your fingers brush—just for a second. It’s such a small, fleeting touch, but it makes the air between you feel charged, like something fragile and important is hanging there.

She twists the cap off the bottle but doesn’t drink, just stares at it like it holds answers. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually let me in,” she says softly.

“Neither was I,” you admit, sitting down beside her. The bed dips slightly under your weight, and for a moment, you’re hyper-aware of the small space between you.

Her lips curve into a faint, rueful smile. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken things. You look at her out of the corner of your eye—the way her hands tremble slightly as she holds the water bottle, the way her hair falls messily over her shoulders, the way her shoulders rise and fall with each shallow breath.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Paige murmurs, breaking the silence. “You were… unbelievable tonight. I mean, you always are, but tonight…” She trails off, shaking her head like she can’t find the words.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“I wasn’t just talking about the game,” she adds, her voice quieter now. “The way you handled everything—the pressure, the expectations, even me. It was like watching someone I didn’t even know existed.”

You glance at her sharply, caught off guard by the rawness in her voice. “You know me better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” she says, her lips twitching into something that’s not quite a smile. “But I think I only knew the parts of you that let me in. And I don’t think I earned the rest.”

Her words hit something deep inside you, something you’ve been trying to bury. You look down at your hands, twisting the cap on your water bottle. “You didn’t need to earn it,” you say quietly. “It was always yours.”

She turns her head to look at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and you can feel her staring, feel her trying to read between the lines of your words.

“I should’ve fought harder,” Paige whispers. Her voice cracks, and she drops her gaze back to her lap. “For us. For you. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” you interrupt gently, surprising even yourself with the softness in your tone. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’ve already forgiven you.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping like a weight has just been lifted. “Really?”

You nod, your throat tightening. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sound of her breathing fills the room, slow and uneven, and the faint hum of the city outside filters in through the window.

“It’s weird,” you say after a while, breaking the silence. “I thought beating you tonight would feel like closure. Like I could finally move on. But it didn’t.”

Paige looks up at you, her brows furrowed. “What did it feel like?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. “Like I was still waiting for something.”

She doesn’t ask what, doesn’t press, but the way she looks at you tells you she knows.

The silence stretches again, but this time it feels different—like the space between you is slowly shrinking, like the air is shifting.

You shift slightly on the bed, your knee brushing hers. The touch is small, accidental, but neither of you pulls away.

“Do you want to stay?” you ask suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them.

Paige blinks, her eyes widening in surprise. “What?”

“Stay,” you repeat, your voice steadier now. “Just for tonight.”

She looks at you, searching your face for something—hesitation, doubt, anything that might make her say no. But she doesn’t find it.

“Okay,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, standing up and grabbing a spare blanket from the closet. “You can take the bed. I’ll—”

“No,” she interrupts quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, we can… share. If that’s okay.”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod again. “Yeah. Okay.”

The bed feels impossibly small as you both lie down, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread. You’re on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how close she is. Paige shifts slightly, the mattress dipping under her weight, and you catch the faint scent of her shampoo.

You try to focus on anything else—the faint hum of the city outside, the muffled sound of someone laughing in the hallway, the rhythm of your own breathing. But your mind keeps circling back to her.

“Hey,” Paige whispers after a while, her voice tentative in the dark.

“Yeah?”

“Can I…?” She trails off, and you turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, the soft light from the window catching the gold flecks in them. “Can I hold you?”

The question catches you off guard, but only for a second. Then you nod, shifting onto your side to face her.

She hesitates, like she’s still waiting for you to pull away, and then she closes the space between you. Her arms wrap around you carefully, like she’s afraid you’ll break, and you feel the warmth of her body settle against yours.

You exhale slowly, your head resting against her shoulder, your hand curling slightly against her chest. Her heartbeat is steady, grounding, and for the first time all night, you feel your own racing pulse start to calm.

“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her breath warm against your hair.

“Yeah,” you murmur, letting your eyes close. “It’s okay.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The quiet hum of the room wraps around you like a cocoon, the world outside fading into the background. You focus on the small details—the way her fingers trace absent patterns against your back, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the way her cheek brushes against your temple.

“I missed this,” she whispers, the words barely audible.

You don’t answer right away, your throat tightening with emotions you’re not ready to name. Instead, you shift closer, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. “Me too.”

Her arms tighten slightly around you, and you feel the faintest press of her lips against your hair. It’s not a kiss, not really—just a gentle, fleeting touch, like she’s afraid to ask for more.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. But for now, it’s enough. Enough to share the silence, to let yourselves be close again, to let the cracks start to heal.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” she says quietly, breaking the silence.

You open your eyes, your gaze meeting hers in the dim light. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

The faintest smile tugs at her lips, hopeful and tentative, and you let yourself smile back.

For now, it’s enough.

For tonight, it’s everything.

The End

A Note from the Me

Thank you for following The Prophecy's story through these three parts. Your comments, messages, and support have meant the world to me. You've helped shape this story of what happens when perfect meets human, when physics equations meet matters of the heart, when being unbreakable becomes more important than being flawless.

Thank you for being part of this journey (cornball moment lol). If enough people want I can do a 6 year time jump as a short story where they're married.

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inktopuck · 2 months ago

Text

juno | quinn hughes social media au (pt.4)

pt.3

_quinnhughes

Liked by trevorzegras, joshnorris10 and others

_quinnhughes happy birthday, wife ❤️ thanks for letting me be iron man

yournamehughes thank you, husband. the costume didn't fit me anyway

jackhughes i am never ever going costume shopping with you again

l_hughes06 did she cry into your shirt too

jackhughes sobbed

l_hughes06 at least she didn't force you to carry her on your back because her ankles were sore

yournamehughes you guys know he would fall face first if i got on his back!

canucks best costume this year goes to Y/N and baby Hughes!

njdevil00 ass kisser

bradytkachuk happy bday goat!

yournamehughes thank you boss baby!

yournamehughes

Liked by elblue6 and others

yournamehughes counting down (please come out)!

_quinnhughes millsy's kids got you again?

yournamehughes this is dumb and dumber's work, unfortunately

_quinnhughes aren't you glad they missed the playoffs 😁😁

jackhughes hey!

l_hughes06 too soon

elblue6 uncle Jack and uncle Luke were unusually quiet during the game... I should've known

yournamehughes as long as they stop using the belly as a table

lukeypookie is there a method to their madness

yournamehughes yes! jack tries to place them in specific areas, all color coordinated, and luke goes over and sticks something else on top of that just to piss him off :)

l_hughes06

Liked by _quinnhughes, colecaufield and others

l_hughes06 do you guys think jack's excited we're on baby watch

_quinnhughes dude i will never tell you anything again

dylanduke25 he's a division 1 yapper what were you expecting

yournamehughes he brought an overnight bag?????

jackhughes do you think i'm going home????

curtislazar95 he's fighting tooth and nail the "luke is the godfather" allegations

hughesyodaddy he looks like that hobbit that says i'm going on an adventure

trevorzegras he's about as tall as one as well

colecaufield FOUL

yournamehughes 💀💀💀💀💀💀

_quinnhughes

Liked by jackhughes, l_hughes06 and others

_quinnhughes mom and baby are perfect. wow.

l_hughes06 where is Y/N bro???

_quinnhughes she told me if i posted her while she looked "destroyed by the birth of our child" she'd ask for a divorce

l_hughes06 sounds fair she just pushed out a watermelon

elblue6 Luke do not call your niece a watermelon

bradytkachuk holy shit bro!! congrats!! can't wait to meet her!!

trevorzegras why is she staring straight into my soul

_quinnhughes she hates you

trevorzegras take it back!

canucks HELLO BABY HUGHES! Congratulations Y/N and Quinn!

jackhughes I HAVE A NIECE!!!!!!!!

elblue6 congratulations Y/N and Quinny, she's beautiful! nana wants to kiss her sweet cheeks!!!

yournamehughes quinn where is the 7up you were supposed to go get me

pt.5

#nhl #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes social media au #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes social media #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x social media au #hughes brothers

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enhafilthandfiction · 11 months ago

Note

ok hear me out (yall have a bet) imagine mutual masturbation with jake, but the one that cums first has to give the other a head.. regardless of the winner j@ke ends up eating you out

Dumb Games - Jake Sim

A/N : Hello everybodyy I. am. back. (after being dead for like 345 months). Anyways, just wanted to say that I missed you all sm! <3 I hope you are all doing well and ready to enjoy reading this fic! Anon tysm this is such a good idea oml esp with bff!Jake 🤭

Pairing : Bff!Roomie!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kinda pervy and desperate Jake, mutual masturbation, oral (f.rec), dirty talk (bc cmon it's Jake), panty smelling (sry), some fingering and I think that's it :))

Word Count : 1,268 Words

Masterlist

It was a normal day for you, laying in bed, reading, scrolling through Pinterest, studying, until-

"Y/n? What is thisss?" your roommate's tone which echoed through the corridor told you he was up to some mischief. You lift your head up curiously as he stumbles into your room, your expression quickly changing when you notice what he's holding. "Jake!" you yelp, rolling out of bed to chase after him.

"I didn't know you owned a pink dildo" he lets out amazed, looking back at your tired figure which was still running after him. He giggles and escapes to the living room, settling on the couch as you follow.

"Oh and it vibrates too!" he exclaims in awe.

"Yeah, now give it back" you breathe, trying to catch your breath.

"Nah, come get it" he lifts his arms up and you scurry to get your personal object back, climbing on his sitting figure as you reach for it, but his arms were too damn long.

"Jake, please, just give it back" you sigh, giving up. You don't even realise you're pretty much straddling him in the position you're at until you feel his other hand on your arm.

"How about we make a deal?" he asks, a playful smirk on his face. "last person to make themselves cum wins"

You deadpan at him "Are you kidding?" you ask in a simple tone.

"Nope, and the loser has to finish the other off" he adds, looking at you hopefully. "Plus I'll give you this back so you can use it in the meantime" he shakes the pink object in his hands, flicking his brows up and down.

You've always kinda liked Jake, he was funny and unserious and just your type. But he was also the person you pretty much grew up with. You were scared to lose such a friendship so you never actually made a move. This was your chance.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance "Fine. You're gonna be the one cumming too quick anyways. We'll see how good you can give head." you shrug, giving him a pretty smile "Now give me my damn dildo back"

He laughs and places the plastic dick in your waiting hand, before looking up at you, smoothing his hands down your sides. You looked so pretty like this on him, he couldn't wait to see you pleasuring yourself.

You get off him too soon, finding your place at the other end of the big couch, spreading your legs as you snake a hands between them. "Fuck" he curses under his breath, his already-hardened cock twitching in his uncomfortable pants.

He also leans back on the opposite end of the couch, quickly untying the stings of his sweats and sliding them down impatiently along with his briefs. His cock springs out, the angry red tip already leaking precum.

You bite your lips at the sight of him, wondering how he'd feel inside you. One thing's for sure; that pink plastic dick wasn't half as good.

You get comfortable, rubbing your clit through you shorts. "Show me that pussy" he instructs, slowly stroking his shaft. You blush red, smiling at his impatience. Nevertheless, you lift your hips up and slide the shorts down along with your panties which you knew were soaked.

Jake didn't hesitate to grab the black material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. You roll your eyes and sigh at his pervy behaviour. "Jakeee" you whine "That's dirty"

He doesn't seem to care, groaning at your smell and at the sight of you. "Fuck you're glistening" he points out, licking his lips as he speeds up his pace a little. #

You spread your juice around, circling your hole, closing your eyes at the tingling sensation. His lips almost start to draw blood at the way he's biting them, his hand going up and down his cock quicker.

He can't help the way his eyes are fixated on you, watching your expressions and your fingers touching yourself. He knows he's gonna lose the second you put a finger inside yourself, squeezing his base to calm himself down.

You open your eyes to stare at his, as if in a challenging manner, the sounds of your gushing juices fills the room, his curious eyes looking at where you finger yourself.

"Close Jakey?" you ask in a breathy voice which goes straight to his dick.

He breathes in "N-no" he lets out, his shaky voice betraying him. He can't help himself though. You want him to lose, adding another finger to your tight hole and moaning out loud.

He's done for when you purposely moan out his name, sending him into a frenzy, his eyes roll to the back of his head and before he knows it, his hands are drenched in cum.

You sigh at him "I didn't even get to use my dildo" you faux pout when he slowly opens his eyes, recovering from his orgasm.

"You won't need it" he mutters, getting off the couch and making his way to you. He grabs your thighs and positions you so that you're sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn't waste a second to sink down on his knees, spreading your legs as he takes you in.

"So fucking hot" he whispers under his breath. He's been waiting to taste you for so long. Smelling your panties just made him more impatient. You nod at him when he looks up at you from between your legs and he dives in.

He flattens his tongue and licks up your folds in one go, immediately humming at your taste. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your hole before slightly prodding it in just to tease you. His licks his way up you clit, kitten-licking the little nub sending tingles up your spine.

"Fuck Jake" you breathe out, subconsciously grasping his hair between your fingers. You push his head deeper into you, encouraging him to suck at your clit. He hums at the little tugs on his hair, the pleasurable sting going to his dick.

He licks back to you hole, his nose bumping against your clit, making you whine out. You can't help but close your thighs around his head, engulfing him into you. He brings his hands up to your thighs, keeping them open before he brings one hand to your hole.

You feel like you're going to explode with his finger prodding at your hole and his tongue on your clit, the stimulation becoming too much. "Fuck, fuck r-right there" you moan out, pulling at his hair to ground yourself.

The way he hums against your folds doesn't help, your hips twitching at the feeling. He starts finger fucking you at a quicker pace, his mouth still working on your clit. All it takes is one last suck on your sensitive clit before your squeezing around his finger and tipping your head back in pleasure.

He eagerly licks up your essence before you push his head away due to overstimulation. You catch your breath as he sits up and settles on the couch next to you.

"Hate to admit it but that was one of your best ideas, Sim" you chuckle out, still in a haze.

"I never come up with bad ideas dumbass" he replies, also chilling back into the couch, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"We should play this dumb game again sometime" you suggest, trying to place a hint.

"Damn you liked it that much didn't you?" he asked giggling

"It's always nice seeing you lose your own game"

Hi again, thankyou for reading to the end :D I hope you enjoyed it !! Have a good day/night and remember that ily! <333

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moonwoodhollow · 7 months ago

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Exerzierplatz - a cc lot by moonwoodhollow (feat. The Green Room & the bookshop + a retro corner store)

Exerzierplatz is a building I've been working on for a long time as it was a bit of a trouble-child. I was never satisfied with it and kept thinking that I should scrap it, because of its awkward apartment-floor plans, until I embraced the idea of using it more as a retail/café lot. The result is something I am very satisfied with and I hope it exudes the kind of ~hip/cute neighbourhood~ vibe I'm feeling.

But it's all up to you, how you'll want to use this lot: as a café, a deco lot for your sims-stories (I'd love to see that!!) or as an actual residential building.

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

Building background

Another historical brick building, but I'll spare you the historical background this time because I forgot which real-life building inspired me to create this one, but I can tell you how I got the idea for this building in general! (if you care)

The name Exerzierplatz is a bit misleading if you know any German, as a "Platz" is usually a public square, buildings directly next to a square usually receive the square's name as well with a house number added. The square that inspired me is quite a dismal and empty square with a huge car park, but it got me thinking about what kind of buildings originally might have stood there. The historical context here is post-WW2, which left a lot of cities in ruins. Instead of rebuilding the original structures, some cities opted for a "car-friendly" approach, meaning lots of car parks and wide streets, that nowadays feel over-dimensioned.

Now if I had to pin down an era, in which this kind of building was likely constructed, I'd say the latter of the 19th century. It's likely to be a representative of historicism, or at least has elements from this style.

So what do you get?

Exerzierplatz is a 20x20 build best placed in Windenburg, but I could potentially see it in Britechester as well. The building is partly furnished, which means the whole ground floor is furnished, while the other two floors are left unfurnished.

The ground floor includes a café, a bookshop and a Tante Emma Laden (aka a corner store/delicatessen). All three of them are fully furnished and usable as a café or a retail store. The 2nd and 3rd floors are intended as apartments, but everything's up to you!

Uses items from the following packs: I own almost all packs, so I'd say most of them, but I will update this post once I hop back into game to have a look!

Download: Google Drive (600 MB) | Also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

Is the CC included? Most is! There's an Excel file with all CC that you'll need to download manually, but it's not many files. Deco Sims are NOT included.

Also a BIG THANK YOU to all the CC-creators, without their creations, I wouldn't have been able to build this!

-> Info: I've included 4 merged files, BUT! I've prepared a little note, about which ones are hard requirements, so it's up to you whether you'll include them.

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong/missing files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the house, I’d love to see it in your games.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 download #sims 4 build dl #sims 4 lot dl #sims 4 build download #sims 4 build #sims 4 lot #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 interior #sims interior #simblr #the sims community #*mine #*mydownload

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norrisainz33 · 5 months ago

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field hockey || GR63

☆ summary: george russell’s girlfriend, y/n, is an olympic (field) hockey player and he’s obsessed with her

☆ pairing: george russell x olympic!reader

☆ fc & warning: lily owsley and slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! apologies for the delay - thank you sm for taking the time to request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

georgerussell63 has added to his private story

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alex_albon: when is y/n/n’s next match?

georgerussell63: 2 days! same day as race day🥹

alex_albon: 💔 man i wanted to watch

georgerussell63: you still can! briefly! i will have it on in my garage

ynuser: georgie 😫 i miss you more!!!! also why don’t YOU hurry up and finish racing so you can come to paris????

georgerussell63: i’m working on it baby girl

ynuser: well work harder 😉

georgerussell63: yes ma’am 😍

lilymhe: you can’t rush greatness

georgerussell63: i know you’re right but im going to try anyway

lewishamilton: don’t stress her out mate 😂😂

georgerussell63: oops

yourbff: that’s my girl actually ☝🏻

georgerussell63: not this again 🫠

georgerussell63 has made a post

liked by yourbff, mercedesamgf1, teamgb, lewishamilton, ynuser, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 874,234 others

georgerussell63: everyone stop what you’re doing - y/n is playing in the olympics today

view all 685 comments

user1: george’s account is becoming a fan account for y/n

user2: george aren’t you racing today ??

mercedesamgf1: let’s go y/n! (george please pay attention in the drivers meeting)

georgerussell63: i am paying attention

alex_albon: y/n y/n y/n!!! let’s go!!!

lilymhe: lets gooooooo that’s my best friend!!

ynuser: i 🫶🏻 you both

user3: i thought this was y/n’s post but it’s just george reminding us how much he loves his girl

landonorris: 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

ynuser: 🤍🇬🇧🤍🇬🇧🤍

user4: rooting for you both today!!!

user5: y/ngeorge for the win!!

mercedesamgf1: it’s race day here in SPA! Join George as he talks race day updates and aspirations and y/n’s olympic campaign.

view all 125 comments

user4: george not talking abt y/n challenge failed

user5: i love how much he loves her

georgerussell63: my girl’s about to win!! you all should tune in!!

user16: shouldn’t you be in the car rn george

user63: he’s live tweeting from the garage apparently

mercedesamgf1: george give me your phone now - toto

user7: loving that all this mercedes and george promo is bringing the love the field hockey world deserves

yourbff: yesss georgie educate the masses on the olympic schedule!!!!

georgerussell63: watch 🗣️ gb field hockey 🗣️ now 🗣️

user9: get you a man like george who cares more about talking about your success than his own

user10: i want them to be my mom and dad

ynuser has posted to their story

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user6: girl did you even step off the field yet ?

georgerussell63: my woman my woman my woman. i fcking love you

ynuser: i love you more my race winner

georgerussell63: simply not possible my olympic field hockey game winner

ynuser: i can’t wait to kiss your cute face

georgerussell63: sprinting away from media duties and to the jet to get to paris rn

ynuser: literally counting down the minutes

user56: a winning day for y/n/n and georgie

yourbff: a couple who wins together stays together

ynuser: 😭😭 winning on the same day hit like nothing else

yourbff: so proud of you both bb 🤍

mercedesamgf1: absolutely amazing result for you both. so so so happy for you y/n ❤️

ynuser: thank you admin ily

georgerussell63 posts to his private story

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landonorris: gross

georgerussell63: if you think this is gross you should’ve seen what we did after

landonorris: i hate you

alex_albon: now you can finally stop crying about missing her!

georgerussell63: yes! until the next time we are apart that is

llyzneimer: my baby girl, give her back to me

georgerussell63: never! she is mine!

lilyzneimer: didn’t anyone ever teach you to share?

georgerussell63: nope!

ynuser: hot

georgerussell63: oh yea 😏

lewishamilton: send her my best

georgerussell63: she sends it right back and she says she wants to see roscoe asap

lewishamilton: roscoe would love a play date 🤍

yourbff: stop distracting her from playing hockey

georgerussell63: i am NOT distracting her ☝🏻

ynuser has made a post

liked mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63, yourbff, alex_albon, teamgb, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 152,324 others

ynuser: not the way i would have hoped our time at the olympics would have ended. we gave it everything we had and for that i am so incredibly proud. there’s always next time!! thank you to everyone for the outpouring of support and love - i hope you’ve been inspired to keep watching field hockey!! thank you to my friends, my coaches, my teammates, my family and most of all george for enabling this dream to come true. see you next time paris 🤍🇬🇧

view all 231 comments

user23: 4th is still impressive you gorgeous hockey queen

user44: thanks for introducing us to the incredible game of field hockey y/n

user54: no like fr i had no idea how fun the sport was!!! everyone say thank you y/n!

user64: thank you y/n

user74: thanks y/n/n

ynuser: you are so welcome 🫶🏻

georgerussell63: you’re an olympian y/n/n and no one can take that away from you, medal or not. you have inspired me and so many others. i love you y/n ❤️

ynuser: i love you mr russell 🥹

user45: we are proud of you mother

landonorris: great effort y/n! proud that you’re out there representing team 🇬🇧

ynuser: thank you lan

user33: still my favorite olympian

roscoelovescoco: prouds of yous my friends 😘

ynuser: i needed this thank you 😭

user35: can’t wait for the next olympics for you to eat it up and win gold

ynuser has added to their story

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user46: hoping you both enjoy your break!!

user87: are you guys just gonna get married yet or what

yourbff: enjoy italy!! love you both 🤍

ynuser: 🤍🤍pasta🤍🤍

mercedesamgf1: much needed rest and recovery time 🫶🏻

teamgb: until next time 🏑🇬🇧

georgerussell63: blue is your color

ynuser: so is gold 😏

georgerussell63: oh i know 💍

user78: that dress is to die for tf

roscoelovescoco: stops by and sees me pls

ynuser: will do ❤️

lilyzneimer: enjoy pretty girl

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and osc 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated!! this concludes my olympic reader series. appreciate all of you reading 🥹

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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pixlpxie · 5 months ago

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An Unserious List of Kinks I Believe Yunho Has Based on My Analysis and His Birth Chart

Please do not forget these assumptions are just for fun and are not real

This was literally my first draft ever it took months but here we are

First of all, I don't get how yall think he is a softy that man is the epitome of hard dom he will make sure you know who is in charge

The only true dom in the group

Obsessive and possessive (duh) literally look at his birth chart

Has insane stamina, will go for rounds fucking you

Starting off strong and sure: This mf definitely has cosplay/dress up kink, there are no doubts. Have you seen the way that man's eyes lit up when a fan said I will dress up for you?? Yeah

So will def go nuts if you cosplay as spider girl or as his fave game characters, he ain't lasting a second

Which is why he probably likes to see you put on a show, with his taurus venus he probably likes looking at pretty things

Also why he enjoys lingerie a lot

Imo hes a huge hedonist and materialist, he has needs and desires that are difficult to satisfy and i don't think he can ever reach that high. So he will use you and your body for his pleasures a lot, that's also why he needs someone that can obey him

Won't keep his hands off of you for sure, the type to grab your ass in public no shame at all

His taurus venus combined with his scorpio placements, his touches and holds will be possessive. He will make sure you know that you are his (But that will only happen if he really wants you otherwise you might feel like you are being used for your body🤡)

The next one I am so fucking sure is his pain kink. Likes both receiving it and giving it. Esp electric shock. Again have you seen him literally reaching cloud 9 when he was hurt? idk man smths fishy here

Which brings me to the next point: He most likely is a sadist 🥰 luvly rly

He can enjoy dacryphilia, with that pisces mercury seeing your tears will get him going in an instant 🫴🏻

Will bite you, wherever he feels like although imo he'd bite your lips and make them bleed

Will not put up with your brat shit

Likes marking you but especially bruising you. Will also adore it when you leave marks on him, again burises. He already seems to bruise so easily (i feel you babe) so I feel like he would adore them post-sex

Size kink for sure, loves seeing you literally vanish beneath his massive figure

Likes when you praise him with dirty talk

Angry sex <3 jealous sex <3

Is quite vocal but he mostly growls and grunts especially when it's a kinkier sex, on the regular his moans are def low pitched

Sex under influence is something he will enjoy, whether it's drunk or high sex he will love it

Food play🏃🏻‍♂️ He will involve food during sex for sure

LMAO FOOT FETISH 😭 WE AINT MISSING ON THAT 🤾🏻‍♂️ (did that one pisces placement he has made him this way?? idk??) Enjoys both recieving and giving but id say giving more so def likes it when your feet is pretty (painting your nails and pedicure is def a turn on)

Like it or not he's a CNC typa man😋 loves forcing you and seeing you so ruined, controling you is important to him

In fact hes probably the only member to be heavily interested in darker and heavier kinks

He will be really sensitive with his 5 senses so he needs someone that can stimulate those senses

He doesn't want to get bored during sex, mental stimulation is important for him

Loves dirty talk

Humiliation and degredation™

Will force you to look into his eyes (But as a punishment he might never let you look at him either)

He is a slapper... He will slap and spank you a lot

Fake sympathy™

To me he's just that type of person to grab you from the chin, look you in the eyes and tell you "You wouldn't want it to be like this, would you princess?" Like he will threaten you subtly without being even mean

I might keep adding to the list so beware

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plmp0 · 10 months ago

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Bad Game

Summary: You've just missed how rough Heeseung used to fuck you so you decided to push his buttons, but he noticed what you are trying to do and gave you exactly what you wanted.

Warnings: pwp (no plot really), mean!dom!Heeseung, begging, dirty talk, degrading, hair pulling, oral (f r), unprotected sex, cream!pie, i think that's all

A.N: This was a very quicky i wrote at 4 AM, sorry if there is any typos/ weird spacing, also please note that english is not my first language. Enjoy ^^

=========================================

"didn't know you were that cock dumb u know? always denying being horny in front of me but all the time you are fantasizing about my dick huh?" Heeseung stuffed two of his fingers inside ur mouth making you choke on them your hips trying to grind on his knee that is positioned between ur legs and he chuckled at ur miserable attempt

"What a pervert, a naughty slut" he whispered in ur ears as he grabbed ur hair and pulled, you arched your back moaning, "And that's okay, you know why? Because i'm the only one who can take care of you like this." he removed his fingers from ur lips groping ur breats making you whimper wanting him to touch you more.

"Only I can fuck u till u can't remember your name." he grunted one of his hands wrapping around your neck choking you lightly but u couldn't help it but grip his wrist and he just cooed at how weak you are.

Heeseung made sure u'd regret messing up with him, trying to make him jealous? really?Knowing how he can't handle seeing others trying to make a move on you in front of him.

"How low of you, horny girl trying to piss me off." He chuckled "You don't know who you're messing up with, sweetheart." He leaned towards you, "I am a man of few words. If you mess up, then i'll fuck u out of your mind."

He kissed you hard and pushed you down the bed, making you lay on your back. He kissed down from ur neck, collarbones, to the valley between ur breasts and you arched your back when he took ur nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly.

"So cute" He licked over ur nipples, "So beautiful and all mine." He kept kissing down, reaching your belly making your mind go numb from how different he sounds everytime "My pretty princess" He mumbled spreading your legs apart and putting them over his shoulder, giving a kiss to each thigh. "U could of just said that you wanted me to fuck you dumb" He gave a smirk and dived in between your legs, eating you out.

"Fuuuck" You moaned when he started moving his tongue around ur clit skillfuly hid hold tight on your thighs moving his head left and right and it was just too much for you, pulling on his hair signaling him to slow down but that just made him moan keeping the same pace.

He continued working on you his nose rubbing against your clit as he sucked on it harshly and you felt a knot forming on your stomach moaning his name non stop

Heeseung felt so lost in the taste of you his dick twitching all the time, he took his right hand, bringing his middle and index finger to ur entrance and you rutted your hips trying to feel him inside you and that just earned you a tsk from him and a slap in ur right thigh "Patience, i get that you're desperate to be fucked but there is no way i'm gonna let what you did slip without punishing you" he voiced, still sucking on ur clit and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

"Pleasee, i'll do anything just fuc-" Your pleads got interrupted by him shoving two fingers inside you and curling them to reach the spongy spot that always made you see stars, "Fuck yes right theree" You arched your back and closed your eyes as the knot was becoming tighter, Heeseung could tell that you were close so he started moving his fingers at a faster pace, making you scream and cum all over his face and he didn't even give you a moment to rest fingers working faster than before making you cry and try to get away from him feeling so sensitive, "No no no" you whined, "too much" You cried

"No?" He stopped and grabbed your chin "isn't that what you wanted, huh? What's wrong now?" he mocked curling his fingers inside you his other hand locking you down on the bed and you could feel yourself close again feeling so weak against him eyes rolling back as you were about to come again and just when you were about to Heeseung stopped moving pulling his fingers out leaving your body shaking as a whine left your lips

"Owww" he cooed looking at ur undone state eyes red and teary lips red from biting on them, seeing you in that state just made his dick twitch but as much as he wanted to fuck you now he couldn't forget what you did earlier his blood boiling even tho he knows it was a stupid plan of yours but that doesn't change the fact that Jay held your hand it doesn't change the fact that his filthy hands wrapped around our tiny waist, and Heeseung couldn't let go of that sight his eyes darkening more making ur skin shiver as he looked you down

"Turn around and get on your knees" he commanded, his voice dark. You followed his command and did as told, "I'm not gonna stop till i feel that you are really sorry for what you did today and don't even try to cum without my permission baby" You could feel his dominance taking over you making you more excited and you couldn't wait for him to wreck you.

He slapped your ass massaging the skin afterwards and then started leaving marks on your back, you felt the tip of his cock rubbing on your entrance, the anticipation was making you go crazy but you ended up disappointed when Heeseung kept grinding his cock on your folds for the next couple of minutes despite your begging he didn't enter you and when you tried to reach out and rub urself against his cock he just slapped your hand away.

He took your chin and turned your face to the side so he could look at you as he started kissing you, his tongue finding its way inside ur mouth. He moved his hands from your waist and cupped your boobs, massaging them, pinching and pulling on your nipples making you whimper and he didn't miss the way your hips twitched burrying himself inside you without a warning stretching you open,and puting an end to your suffering, he didn't wait for you to adjust to his size pounding on you hitting your g spot immediately and you couldn't hold your voice in and moaned loudly, Heeseung didn't stop there he grabbed your neck and pushed your head down and started moving at an even faster pace the sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room, he let go of your neck and you felt his grip on your hips getting tighter as he kept going and going and you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, your walls fluttering around his dick, "Don't cum until i say so." He warned voice stern as ever and you couldn't do anything but nod his hand steadying your head against the mattress, bed frame banging against the wall at the force of his thrusts, you felt yourself coming closer and closer and he knew it, his groans going straight to your core making you clench on him and he threw his head back cursing at your tightness his hand slapping your ass and the sting brought you back from the edge Heeseungs hand reached to your hair pulling on it and making you arch your back, you couldn't keep your eyes open as they rolled back "Look at you now, can't even speak because of my dick" he grunted and you didn't even have the strength to moan, his grip on your hair getting tighter "What a good little cockslut" he chuckled seeing how his words affected you "But looks like you forgot that you are mine" he thrusted this time hard and deep making you moan and clench around him "Who are you?" You could hear the anger in his voice "Tell me" he griped your jaw cock still deep inside of you waiting for your answer,

"I'm- Yours- Ahh" you choked on your moans making him smirk as he pulled his cock all the way out and then slammed back in making you arch your back

"Again" He repeated and you felt your orgasm approaching again "Heeseung-" You were about to cum but he slapped your ass

"Who do you belong to" Heeseung growled and the grip he had on ur hair and hips tightened "Who's dick are you on?" he thrusted a couple of times before stopping again, "Yours! It's only yours, please let me cum!" you begged trying to fuck yourself on his dick but his hands were holding you still and it was just too much, he chuckled "You should've known better than to be a brat to me baby"

He started moving again slamming his cock inside you hitting the deepest parts of you, making you a moaning mess and after a couple of minutes of begging he finally gave you permission feeling close as well, "You can cum baby, show me how much you love my cock" he whispered in ur ears and it was enough to make u come and tighten around his dick, making him cum right after you

"Fuck" he cursed as he rode his high and then pulled out of you, and he couldn't help but groan at the sight of his cum dripping out of you taking his fingers to fuck his cum back inside of you and then licking it off his fingers, the view made you whine

"I hope that what you did today won't repeat again, understood?" He asked as he helped you lay on your back and you were too tired to even talk so you just nodded whispering a small "sorry" and he laughed a bit "You did so well baby, such a good girl" he praised caressing your cheek and you couldn't help but lean in and close your eyes at the sensation of his hands, he smiled at your action and leaned down to give a kiss to your forehead. And you don't know if this is gonna really be the last time your gonna push his buttons loving the way he fucked you earlier but hey he doesn't need to know now!

Thank you for reading a feedback would be so much appreciated ^^

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #kpop smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #enhypen scenarios

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xshadowdelta · 6 months ago

Text

Witch

Irene x Male Reader (3.6K Length)

"Hey rookie, it’s time to work."

You stood up and left that small service room, in whose sign was written 'Authorized Service Only'.

It was your first week in this new summer job as a bellboy at the most famous 5-star hotel, right in the middle of the city with a huge amount of guests every day. You got here thanks to a friend’s recommendation, not your dream job, but you really needed the money, and the pay was juicy. You arrived at the reception hall where your manager was standing next to a mountain of suitcases, feeling as if your soul wanted to leave your body seeing all those bags.

"Miss Bae Joohyun’s luggage, room 362, as soon as possible, she is waiting for it."

It took you a while to place every one of the suitcases in the luggage birdcage, using every skill you had in the Tetris game to not drop them. Then you took the elevator to the third floor, and once there, you drove until you reached the indicated room by your senior.

You knocked on the door and fixed the wrinkles in your jacket, since your first day, the manager had been very insistent on looking perfect in front of the clients. You heard the sound of the door opening and forced one of your best smiles,

"Good morning, Miss Bae, here is your luggage."

The woman in front of you didn’t say a single word as she scanned you up and down, just a slight head move to give you permission to get inside the room, meanwhile, she continues with the phone call in which she was involved.

Oh yeah, another rich middle-aged woman with a major superiority complex. You frowned and let out a whisper that only you could hear.

"Witch…"

But you have a job to do, so you entered the suite along with the luggage and began to unstack all the suitcases.

You looked back at the woman who was now standing, looking at the beautiful views offered by the windows of that room. She was speaking in a foreign language, maybe korean.

Yet you managed to understand the word "stylist" and it gave you the feeling that the person on the other side of the line was getting a good scold.

You could only see the profile of her face, enough to detect a serious and cold expression that you didn't like at all, but still you had to admit that she was a very beautiful woman.

The work was finished at the same time she ended the call. Your eyes met for a moment, and you felt a shiver run through your body. You gave her a small bow before saying goodbye.

"Have a good stay with us, Miss Bae, we are at your disposal." You were already close to the door when her voice stopped you.

"Wait a moment, please."

Another smile was forced in your face before turning on your feet to come face to face with her.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Here is your tip."

She got some bills out of her wallet and offered them to you. You hesitated at first, but you ended up taking them, and for the first time, your smile was a genuine one. You save them in the pocket of your uniform, ready to finally leave that room.

"By the way, just from one look, have you been able to deduce that I am a witch?" Suddenly, your breathing stopped, and your skin tone turned pale white. You were sure you had said it quietly enough for her not to hear that.

"Being a woman as important as me. I must be alert to everything that happens around me, don’t you think?”

Cool, now she can read minds, definitely a witch.

"I apologize, Miss Bae, it was never my intention to hurt your feelings." Your voice trembled, knowing you could be fired because of this.

"Feelings? I put them aside many years ago."

The confusion on your face was notorious, your eyes followed her to see how she took a seat, watching you with a scary look. Another shiver ran down your spine. Running away from there was not a good idea, first because it wouldn't solve anything and would make you look like a coward, but the truth is that you wanted to disappear from the world at that moment.

On the other hand, you could just cry like a baby begging for her forgiveness, that would certainly be ridiculous, but it would save your ass from a guaranteed dismissal.

"Miss Bae…"

"Don’t tell me. Do you want us to forget this incident, right?"

Her face was cold, and her words sounded like ice, sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. But you couldn't articulate a single word, just nodded your head.

For a small period of time, you thought that a halo of kindness would take over her, and she would give in to your request to forgive you, but kindness wasn't in the dictionary of Bae Joohyun.

"Get naked"

It took you a few seconds to understand the request she had just made. She didn't take long to repeat. "What are you waiting for? Get naked"

"WHAT?"

That scream only made her angrier, hitting the ground with her foot, impatient. Her look did not change at any time, she continued staring at you, challenging you.

"I see, you don’t care about this job, so…"

"Wait…"

Your hands started to move, and your uniform jacket fell to the floor. You continued unbuttoning your shirt, making your naked torso visible.

Next was taking off your shoes so you could get rid of your pants that would accompany the rest of the clothes on the floor, leaving you in underwear under the watchful eye of Mrs. Joohyun, who now had a slight mischievous smile while looking at you.

"I think we have a different concept about nudity."

You looked down at your nether area, and then your eyes returned to her. She was really trying to humiliate you in every way. "Everything?"

The coldness of her gaze was enough of an answer for you, making you slide your hands over your boxers, leaving you now completely naked. "Now I want you to stay there, don’t move and pay attention."

You felt like you were about to faint right there when you saw that woman spread her legs on the couch, raising her dress to reveal her panties, which she pushed aside.

She was showing you her naked pussy before she started caressing it with her hand. You couldn't believe your eyes, a minute ago you were fired, and now you had an incredibly hot woman masturbating herself right in front of you. Joohyun licked his own hand as she stroked herself fast, starting to moan with no shame. Despite finding yourself in this complicated situation, watching this show made your body react, and your penis was already completely erect. You tried to move one of your hands towards your penis, but Joohyun's voice stopped you. "Told you to, don't move!" "Remember that your job is at risk."

Then she inserted two of her fingers inside her pussy to stimulate herself more. Hear her loud moans, and the watery sound due to the humidity of her vagina was driving you crazy.

Joohyun continued like this for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, Meanwhile, you were praying that this torture would come to an end, and miraculously she would decide to forgive you and run away out of there, straight to the employee bathroom to masturbate yourself, thinking about what you were experiencing at this moment.

"Come here" She demanded in an authoritarian tone, and you approached until you were right in front of her, which didn't stop her from continuing to pleasure herself.

"On your knees."

Now, your face was practically a few centimeters from her pussy, but you didn't expect Joohyun to let out one last pleasure scream, squirting directly on you.

You closed your eyes at time, however, now your face was covered by Joohyun fluids, who was now breathing tiredly but still looking at you, with a serious expression on her face.

“Wow”

Was the only thing you could say, you were in shock after what had just happened. You ran your hand over your face, trying to clean up the mess, licking a couple of your fingers in the process.

"Delicious"

"What have you said?" She was stunned, and her voice tone sounded even more enraged.

"You are delicious, Mrs. Bae."

That answer made her get up from the couch in a bad mood. She walked to the pile of your clothes on the floor and grabbed the tie that minutes ago had surrounded your neck, but now was being used to tie your hands at your back.

"What are you doing?" You asked, standing up.

She stood next to you and, without warning, grabbed your still erect penis with one of her hands, making you gasp.

"You keep saying vulgarities, you need a real punishment."

She whispered in your ear, starting to masturbate your penis slowly, making you moan a little bit. She was increasing the pace, stroking you with both hands at the same time.

"You were supposed to feel humiliation, and instead you had the courage to taste my fluids and the nerve to say 'delicious.' I have never met someone like you, you are quite a challenge."

Your brain was unable to say anything as it was busy moaning in pleasure at Jonghyun's touch.

"Mrs. Bae, I'm about to…"

"Don't you even dare, now it's my turn to taste you."

She stopped touching you and crouched on her knees in front of you. She looked up, straight into your eyes, you saw that look again, that no longer seemed so cold, but immediately closed your eyes because of the immense pleasure you felt when her mouth devoured your cock.

Your body staggered, and you cursed for having your hands tied at that moment. You opened your eyes again only to see how she sucked your cock over and over again at an accelerated but constant pace, damn, you were in heaven.

She grabbed your balls, and at the same time she was sucking you, pressing on them, making you feel a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Fuck, you have a good dick here."

She spit on your cock, going back to masturbate you, making wet your entire length, so that now when she sucked you, she also slurped some saliva.

“Mrs. Bae…”

She stopped for a second and looked into your eyes again.

"Irene…call me Irene."

The beat of your heart increased because of that, a feeling that was quickly replaced by another wave of pleasure when you noticed how she reintroduced your penis into her mouth, now even reaching his throat, causing her to choke on your cock.

You looked at the ceiling, trying to hold on as long as possible, wishing this moment would never end, then you felt a pinch of pain in your thighs, so you looked down again.

Your eyes found the view of Irene grabbing your thighs with her nails and the entirety of your cock inside her mouth, with some tears welling up in her eyes. She closed her eyes and started moving her head back and forth. You could say she was using you to fuck her own throat.

She stopped to take a breath, but immediately lifted your cock with one of his hands and began licking your balls desperately. "Keep looking at me or this will end here."

It was the first instruction that you would gladly follow.

She ran her tongue along the entire length, licking every inch before giving your tip a special treatment and taking it back into her mouth, this time masturbating you with her hands at the same time as she sucked you off. That made you about to explode.

"Irene…" You managed to say between several moans.

Then she let it off from her mouth again and masturbated you fiercely with both hands, looking at you with lust. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, sticking her tongue out. You knew what she wanted.

There was no need to say anything else. A few more seconds, and you let out a huge load of semen that fell directly into his mouth and face, squeezing until the last drop fell.

Irene's face was now a real mess. She had managed to swallow part of your cum, but other threads of semen fell near her eyes and part of her hair. She didn't mind at all, she was busy cleaning your cock now.

She got up a little later, walking until she stood behind you again, untying the knot that was imprisoning your hands. She took one of your hands and dragged you to another room in the suite, the bedroom with a huge bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she caught your attention again.

"Do you want to keep this job?"

Once again, you nodded your head.

"If you can make me have an orgasm, I'll pretend none of this ever happened, you understand?”

"Loud and clear."

You tried to hide your nervousness as best you could and mentally preparing yourself to give her the greatest effort of your life, your future depended on what happened in the next few minutes.

You took a few steps towards the direction where she was, she was imposing, she was scary, yes, but at the same time, you had a sensation running through your body that you had never experienced before, and you wanted to go until the end.

You bent your head straight to kiss his neck. She let out a sigh, a good sign, you deduced. You trailed kisses along his neck at the same time that your hands roamed her body.

"Not bad, but this is nothing out of this world."

You shouldn't rush, she was provoking you, you knew it. Make a mistake, and it will be over. However, you also knew how to play that game.

"Excuse my clumsiness, Mrs. Bae, my job consists of transporting suitcases, not to sexually satisfy clients, even so you seemed to have enjoyed my cock."

Your lips now kissed the part of her naked chest that was not covered by her dress.

"Even now you are still behaving like a reckless, shut the fuck up and take me off this damn dress…now."

She raised her arms, so the dress came out more comfortably, her black lace bra was still annoying, but with a deft movement it quickly disappeared as well, leaving you with the view of her naked tits.

Your mouth quickly acted as shelter for her boobs, drawing loud moans from Irene. Her hands traveled to the back of your head, pressing you closer against them.

"Just like that, fuck, work on these fucking little tits."

You sucked her boobs and licked her nipples, which at this point were really hard by the moves of your tongue. With every second that passed, Irene became more moldable under your touch.

At that moment, you took advantage of to move one of your hands to her lower zone, totally wet after the first session, you touched her pussy over her panties using circular movements.

"So fucking wet, Miss Bae." You said it with a superior tone.

"Told you to shut up." She was getting angry again.

"As you wish."

You replied and suddenly kissed her lips. Irene opened her eyes in surprise, but it didn't take long for her to respond to the kiss with even more energy, until both of you got separated to take a breath.

"It's funny, men are usually afraid of me, and I love to create that feeling in them, but it also makes them never dare to kiss me. I almost forgot how kisses felt." She said with a half-smile on her face, touching her swollen lips.

"In that case, let me help you remember."

You said, emboldened, kissing her again with passion, making her respond with the same lust and starting a battle of tongues inside your mouths. You lost your balance due to the fury of the kisses, and you fell on top of her when her back hit the bed.

When you separated from her again, you could see how her messy hair had fallen on her sweaty forehead and her cheeks were completely red, but you were surprised by her smile, this time it was a full formed and sincere smile.

"Show me what else can do that mouth of yours."

You kissed her lips again, a quick kiss this time, which was followed by another path of kisses all over her body until you reached her panties, you managed to take them off to finally see her naked pussy.

You kissed her thighs previously before sinking your face against her area, making her moan louder than ever. Your tongue moved fiercely against her pussy folds as Irene's screams filled the room.

"Don't stop, don't even dare to stop."

You were giving your best to make her feel good. Her moans, screams, and bad words only motivated you to continue doing this with more intensity. Having your tongue a rest, you quickly replaced it with your fingers, masturbating her with all your strength.

"Holy fuuuuuck, I’m cuming!" She screamed, curving her back and, once again, squirting a lot from her pussy, messing part of the edge of the bed and the bedroom floor.

She had now difficulty breathing correctly, and her chest was up and down again, trying to calm herself. Your fingers once again caressed her pussy, this time doing it so slowly. You approached to kiss her once again.

"Irene"

You called, so both of you noticed your penis fully recovered, ready for more rounds. She smiled at you, turning around, remaining face down, then you stared at her trained ass.

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Fuck me".

Your penis got excited hearing those words. You stood up immediately to stand behind her. Grabbing her hips and aligning yourself with her pussy, inserting your entire length at once into Irene's pussy.

"God, you're so tight." You moaned, starting to thrust into her.

"Yes, fuck, stretch my fucking pussy with your big cock."

"Holy shit, Mrs. Bae."

You increased your thrusts, making everything more and more primitive, to the point that your balls were colliding with her hips every time you buried your length inside her.

Irene couldn't stop moaning and screaming, grabbing the bedsheets with her hands while moving her hips to give more depth to your moves.

You didn't hesitate to grab one of her ass cheeks tightly with one of your hands and then give her a slap that echoed through the room and made the woman scream. You repeated it a few more times, having the same result.

"This is what you wanted, right? A witch like you just wanted to be fucked this hard."

One more spank to her already red ass, drove Irene crazy.

"Yes! Fuck yes, fuck me please! Don't stop now! Use my witch pussy however you want."

You kissed her neck from behind and ran your tongue down her back as your hips moved at a constant pace for a longer period of time.

"Wait." she said between moans. "I want to see you."

You took out your cock off her, allowing her to turn around, giving her another passionate kiss, you took her hips and brought her closer to the edge of the bed, sitting there, she opened her legs for you.

You entered inside her again, resuming your task of fucking her hard, Irene wrapped her arms around your head, moving a little on the bed, allowing you to fuck her deeper.

"So fucking deep." She sighs, closing her eyes.

When she opened them again, she met your eyes, making her blush a bit. You didn't ignore it and brought your lips closer to hers, touching them but not kissing her.

"Mrs. Bae, I'm about to cum." She took your face in her hands, smiling.

"Inside me, until the last drop… I need it."

That was the last thing you needed, Irene hugged you and in a last effort you fucked her harder than ever until you shot all your cum inside her pussy, making both of you reach an orgasm. Both of you really had made a mess.

Irene laid on the bed, still shaking, with one of her arms covering her face. You laid to next to her, looking directly at her.

"Don't worry, today is a safe day."

"That’s fine of course but wasn't my real concern."

Irene lowered her arm and stared at you for a few moments, her eyes widening as if she had forgotten the reason of this. He pretended to cough in an attempt to hide her mistake by sitting back on the bed.

"Yes, about that… You did your part, so I'll do mine, and I promise I won't say anything about what happened here."

Feeling a big relief at that moment, you didn't say anything more than "thank you" to get out of bed in search of your work clothes. You had a schedule to complete.

"I will stay here for a few days because of work."

You left your shirt half buttoned to watch as Irene leaned against the door frame, now wearing a bathrobe from the bathroom.

"Maybe you can offer me this special service again." Her mischievous smile made your face get one, too. "I am at your total disposal, Mrs. Bae."

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #red velvet smut #irene smut #smut

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