#moderate flare-up
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Declining Condition
Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Transformers Rating: E Warning: None Pairing: None Description: Crosshairs and Drift worry about Jamie fighting a moderate flare-up. Her weakening pulse adds to their worry.
@whumpril day 12; weak pulse
Crosshairs and Drift always struggle when Jamie is suffering a flare-up. Even a minor one, which Ratchet allows them to keep her in the shared bedroom. They both know how to intubate and to work the ventilator, but Ratchet prefers Jamie in the medbay for a moderate flare-up. The two guardians understand that Jamie could decline, requiring drugs that Ratchet will not allow them to have in their medical capsules. Nor does he want them carrying a defaulter. He doesn’t think either could handle needing to do CPR or shocking her heart. It’s hard for him to do either. The medic is relieved he hasn’t done either action often. Ratchet does like to monitor Crosshairs and Drift while Jamie is suffering a moderate flare-up, knowing the trauma they went through after Jadin caused a severe flare-up and Jamie flatlined several times. The two neglect themselves while in the medbay, adding to his concern. Ratchet has watched the two avoid reading the numbers on the monitor. The two already know the ventilator is doing all the work. That’s hard enough for them.
“It’s bad enough knowing Jamie can decline,” Jolt comments, “but also knowing how much trauma this brings up for her guardians.” “It’s only been two days,” Jasmine sighs, “I hate we can’t help them. I don’t think Rung can help them. How can you help two Autobots who’ve watched their friend have to be revived several times?” The three medics look out the viewing window to the one across the hall. Seeing Crosshairs’ and Drift’s holoforms backs as they sit by the bed. While this means Ratchet can’t observe them, he will not tell the two to move to the other side of the bed. Worried this will cause them to worry that Jamie is showing signs of declining.
Everything is fine for the morning. Crosshairs and Drift are relaxed, close to falling asleep when an alarm startles them. Ratchet rushes in. The alarm was to alert that Jamie’s pulse was getting weaker. The other two medics walk in. The three suspect Jamie has bradycardia. Ratchet listens to her heart. What he hears confirms the diagnosis. The three medics know adding medication will add to the two mechs’ concerns, but they must help Jamie. The three medics need not speak. Crosshairs and Drift are aware of the situation. They knew this was possible, but it’s still terrifying.
Continued with Angstpril day 10.
#transformers#transformers fanfiction#transformers autobots#transformers crosshairs#bayverse crosshairs#transformers drift#bayverse drift#Jamie (OC)#transformers ratchet#transformers jolt#Jasmine Graham (OC)#medbay ICU unit#moderate flare-up#medical condition#worry#weakening pulse#whumpril2024#day 12#weak pulse
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I have some good news and some less good news: Good news: I think I'm probably going to make the giant cuddly Toothless, I can probably get by Joanns tomorrow during the fleece sale and pick up some black fleece.
Less good news: I am probably not going to be able to finish the quilt today like I'd intended to, my electrolytes apparently got even more out of whack than my normal, because in addition to regular muscle cramps and spasms I got the smooth muscle cramps again! 0/10 do not recommend, they finally stopped but I am so sore (as my doc explained it to me a while ago, smooth muscles are the ones around your organs, and normally you can't feel them at all. If they cramp or spasm very badly, you can feel them and they hurt real bad because you are not used to feeling them. I am not a doctor that's just what he told me) Good news: Sonic is my go-to Maximum Sodium meal so I'm going to have Sonic for lunch and see if that fixes me lol
#the person behind the yarn#the muscle cramps woke me up at 3am this morning from the pain! I am in significantly less pain now#because they've stopped cramping#but ouch. I did get back to sleep after like an hour#but ow my whole torso is sore from how bad the cramps were#and that's not even counting the other muscle tightness and cramps and spasms#most of the time being sodium georg is only moderately inconvenient but sometimes it's majorly inconvenient#my Sonic meal has more than 3000mg of sodium#that's eight salt pills#that's so much sodium surely it will Fix Me#also to add insult to injury when I am having a flare up like that the pain makes me sweat#which loses MORE salt#and it's like dang it me! I need that salt! stop sweating!
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Tell me you have gastroparesis without telling me you have gastroparesis: I am eating salted lime jelly while cooking my soup of the week. Semi-liquids ftw.
#ups and downs of chronic illness#gastrointestinal fuckery#gastroparesis#my gastroparesis is like moderate grade but my symptoms are relately managed#I’m usually getting all I need nutritionally I just suffer occasionally#I’m lucky that my reflux is well managed on meds that I’ll be on forever#I ran out of them over Easter which was bit of a palava#but nice to know they do their job!#I seem to be in bit of a flare atm#I think because I recently got my covid booster shot and my body had a tough time with it#not as bad as I could have been but still not fun#anyway I’m standing at the stove starting my soup thinking this’ll take a while I should eat something in the interim#when what do I see but the lime jelly I made recently#also it’s jelly not jello fight me americans#I love aeroplane jelly#aeroplane jelly for meeeeeeeee#also the salt is bc it tastes nice as a counterpoint to the sweetness. but also pots high sodium diet shenanigans#gotta get my salt where ever I can
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Anybody have any like withdrawal esque experiences after stopping estrogen based birth control?
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here I lay me down - s.r.
a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)
Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here.
The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place.
When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air.
It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her.
He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember.
He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate.
A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore.
It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door.
He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch.
Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?
Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him.
“How are you feeling?”
He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern.
“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition.
She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense.
“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice.
“I’m okay,” he tries to reply.
“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain.
“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.
It doesn’t mean anything.
“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”
It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else.
Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week.
When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.
“Thank you for coming.”
It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet.
It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him?
It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.
When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.
It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.
_______________________________________
It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver.
Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around.
She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too.
Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.
Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him.
When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch
It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them.
“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view.
It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants.
“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”
He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt.
And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back.
“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking.
“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”
It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch.
“Why did you?”
He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes, and if he comes home shot.
He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.
So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow.
She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone.
His voice catches in his throat.
“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.
“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back.
“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”
“You think I hate you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”
He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him?
“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”
She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her.
“Why do you think that is?”
She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of.
“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”
“You still love me?”
“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”
“Don’t get over me.”
It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple.
“That’s mean, Spence.”
“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”
Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”
She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have.
“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him.
“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“
“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”
He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-
It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered.
When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed.
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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Dragon Bruce meeting his kids mates 👉👈
Bruce curled around Talia, licking the side of her face as their purrs and scents blended into one. She was relaxed, laying over his limbs and spreading out her wings. Eventually, as Bruce finished preening her, he asked, “When do you think Damian is coming back? He shouldn’t visit his siblings too much, what if he prevents them from finding mates?”
Talia snorted, a puff of smoke coming from her nostrils from her laugh. “Do not fret, beloved. Damian knows moderation. Besides, he should be back any moment now…”
She looked up through one of the openings in Bruce’s lair and then paused. She squinted.
“Huh. Beloved, I believe today will be a good day for you.”
Bruce blinked. “What?” He stood, carefully disentangling himself from Talia and then looking through the opening before he froze in place.
Young dragons usually left their nest when they were of age to form their own hoards and find their own mates. Over the decades, his children had all left him to find their own mates and they would not come home until they succeeded. His nest and home had been quite lonely with only Talia and Damian to spend time with him.
However, all of his children were coming home now, nearly doubled in number with their mates.
Bruce perked up, wings flaring. “Alfred!” He called, and the old dragon who used to be his guardian gave a light sigh from his corner of the cave.
“I am aware,” Alfred said as Talia laughed delightedly at his exasperation. "I shall go and hunt for some food."
Damian was the first to come in with a broad, fanged smile. He zipped inside the cave and then flew straight to Bruce, head butting into his chest with a shriek of joy. Bruce happily gave him a lick, overriding the scent of another female dragon before passing him off to Talia who finished off the cleaning just as his other sons and daughters arrived, tumbling into the cave and shaking off their wings.
“B!” His oldest, Richard, called. “We’re back!”
Bruce was ready to greet them when he paused at the sight of them all in his lair.
Wait a minute.
Why on earth were his little hatchling's mates so big? In fact, weren't they a little too big?? Almost all of them were even larger than Bruce!
All of his hatchlings had their mate beside them, who were curiously looking around at his coveted piles of gold and splendor.
Richard had his mate, a large blood colored dragon with tattered wings and black claws, curled around him. Cassandra had somehow found herself a big white dragon with feathered wings. Stephanie was happily chewing on the fluffy tail of a tall, autumn colored dragon, and even Jason, his largest hatchling, had a mate that was larger than him, colored black and obsidian.
The only one who returned with a mate smaller than them was Timothy, who had a tiny dragon by his side who was climbing over his back in excitement, but there was also Kal-el's oldest son next to them both, dwarfing them in a sign of three-way courtship.
Bruce stared at the behemoths in his lair and almost wanted to make them turn back.
Why on earth did he have hatchlings again? Especially hatchlings who decided to flirt with such large dragons??
"Oh my," Talia said, sounding impressed. "You've all chosen well for mates."
Bruce suddenly wished Alfred would come back to knock some sense into everyone. Damian may have known moderation, but how come the rest of his nestmates didn't??
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny phantom x dc#dp x dc crossover#ask#anon ask#dragon au#anger management ship#hardcover ship#bad humor ship#dead silent ship#two for one ship#brutalia#spoiler warning ship#jason x jazz#dick x dan#danny x cass#tim x kon x dani#wes x steph#ty for the ask!
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Hello (good morning?)
I have a question about your chronic illness. We are suspecting that my kid have a form of eds, and we're dealing with recurring presence of mold in our bathroom. Since you live in an Old House™️, I was wondering if you can tell something about wether mold can cause sudden (inexplicable) flare up's? My teen's doctor shrugged it off.
We're calling professionals about the mold regularly, it's not going to completely go away and moving is not an option, so i would need to know if i need to fight this fight more consistently.
Thank you and i hope your migraine is ending soon!
It's 12:30 am and I have post-migraine insomnia, so yea, good morning!
So, here’s where mold could be triggering an EDS flare up. Mast cell instability (there are several types, the type I have is Mast Cell Activation Syndrome or MCAS) has a high rate of comorbidity in EDS due to weird connective tissue issues and mast cells being present in every part of the body.
Mold is a huge mast cell destabalizer and can lead to degranulation, and when mast cells degranulate they dump an inflammatory cocktail into the surrounding tissue.
Closer to the skin this looks like hives or other typical allergic responses, but as previously stated, mast cells are in every part of the body including deep connective tissue and that's when mast cells flaring up can exacerbate the symptoms of EDS.
I know for me when I’m around mold, my joints become excruciating. Like it just feels like I’m grinding glass into the sockets and I’m either stiff as a board or like a puppet with my strings cut. I also become listless and more disposed to idiopathic anaphylaxis, but that's due to my mast cell dysfunction which, when we unknowingly had mold in our house, went from moderate to severe.
So your kid might not have a full-blown mast cell disorder, but if they’re having EDS flare-ups around mold that’s a red flag you need to be watchful for and fighting pretty regularly.
We ended up having to rip out our entire basement after we found black mold in the walls. (I could smell it. The mold remedial company said we had “a bit of damp, nothing to worry about” but my partner believed me and started cutting into the walls and what we found was a nightmare that spanned the entire finished basement 😱. There’s pics somewhere in my blog.) and a few weeks after we did my health began to stabilize.
So yeah, get on top of that as best you can. Mold is a bitch at the best of times, but it’s even worse when there’s weird health stuff already going on. Good luck, you’ve got my sympathy.
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dead men tell no tales
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b9fcdf72706e5294671a3ecaf715bba9/a9f4ebb8a3150435-e2/s540x810/e0f86deff3ab598be5d63e47d8c9342f61473398.jpg)
pairing: johnny x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, angst, gun usage, descriptions of death and violence
summary: five years ago, you were part of a unit assigned to eliminate the head rival of a crime syndicate. the plan backfired miserably. ever since you have been laying low, but then your former boss calls you with alarming news.
word count: 23k
a/n: part 1/3 of my wanted: dead or alive series. as always, feedback is appreciated!
Maybe it was only your paranoid instincts, but from the minute you woke up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about today was very, very off.
Though to be fair, you always had that feeling. Nowhere was too safe. You were constantly glimpsing over your shoulder and bouncing across the globe to evade potential predators that wanted to stain the walls with your blood. Your mind was always screaming.
Until you met Johnny, that is. There was something about him that put you at ease from the moment you met eight months ago at a hotel poolside. He was just so damn easygoing and chill. The world could be burning and Johnny would still find a way to make you laugh, as if nothing was ever wrong.
He was an American nomad, bred of admirable spontaneity, which gave you the perfect excuse to wander without him asking any important questions. Johnny spent months courting you relentlessly and whisking you away on trips all over the world. But it wasn’t his money that drew you to him. You were more interested in his uncanny ability to subdue the monsters in your head.
You didn’t know how or why, but the cacophony of screams died when you were with Johnny. The reckless, heaving water became gentle waves crashing against the shoreline.
Now here you were, in some lavish hotel in Monaco with the entire Mediterranean sea right outside your balcony, and you had never been happier. Your whole relationship with Johnny consisted of taking vast trips together. He wasn’t in any rush to settle down and you didn’t have that privilege, though you’d made it abundantly clear you were committed to each other.
Johnny didn’t want to come on too strong. Getting to know one another was a slow and steady process, given that neither of you were none too forthcoming, but Johnny was adamant on learning all there was to know about you. And to your surprise, he had been moderately successful.
But there was one tiny secret you never let slip.
Johnny was snuggling up to you like a baby bear, which was ironic considering the sheer size of him, and it was the cutest thing ever. “I love traveling the world with you,” he mumbled into your neck.
“One day, it’ll be ours,” you replied, grinning from ear to ear.
“I don’t want it. I’d give it all to you.”
You snorted and joked, “And let me be solely responsible for all of its ugly? No thank you. I’d prefer we share custody.”
Johnny laughed. Before he could come up with another response, there was a knock at the door of your luxury suite. You glanced towards him, startled. “Did you invite company?” you asked.
“No, but I did tell my boss where he could find me if anything important came up at work,” Johnny said quietly, apparently as confused as you were. “I’ll get the door.”
You didn’t want to let him go. Most of your life had been spent in shady hotels and you never answered an unknown visitor without a gun. Your survival instincts flared up again, but it wasn’t only yourself that you feared for now. Sometimes you wondered if you were selfishly putting him at risk.
Any friend of yours was an enemy of your enemies. You had seen them come and go, temporary like everything else in your life, but Johnny was different. You wanted him to stay.
Almost immediately after Johnny stood to answer the door, tugging his shirt back over his head, your phone began ringing on the nightstand. You recognized the contact and pressed the phone to your ear. “Hey, Doie. What’s up?”
“Are you around anyone?”
Between the curtness of his question and the sharpness in his tone, you couldn’t decide which baffled you more. “Yes. Why?”
“Keep your face straight and your voice level,” Doyoung said sternly. “Can you get away from them?”
You glanced up at Johnny. He’d returned from the door by now with an envelope in hand, watching you with furrowed brows. “Yes.”
“Do it now.”
With a few seconds delay so as to not raise too much suspicion, you rose from the bed and mouthed to Johnny, “Business stuff.” Then you excused yourself to the balcony.
Johnny nodded in understanding.
When the balcony door was shut behind you, you spoke up again. “I did what you asked, but I’m at a hotel. He’s nearby.”
“I know,” was all Doyoung said.
That did nothing but strengthen your bewilderment. “What do you mean by you know?”
Doyoung cut to the chase. He sounded perturbed. “Listen to me very carefully. Margo was killed this morning.”
You gawked. “What?”
“Single shot to the back of the neck. Close distance. No sniper.”
Despite the humid weather outside, the most aggressive shudder shot down your spine. “We can’t be certain that has anything to do with us,” you said, but it was obvious you hadn’t even convinced yourself.
“I’m certain.”
The balcony door opened and you jolted, but tried to regain your composure when you realized it was only Johnny. “My bad,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m getting my letter opener.”
You nodded, smiling thinly at him. There was no way in hell you wanted to give away the nature of the phone call you were currently having. “How come?”
Doyoung explained, “Sol was killed two weeks ago. He opened a laced letter. Invisible powder. Nobody knew until today because they assumed he was on vacation. You know how he likes to go off-grid. He never even saw it coming.”
“Fuck,” you grumbled under your breath, although Johnny had already slipped back inside as quickly as he’d come.
“Dispose of your cellphone as soon as possible,” Doyoung instructed, naturally falling back into his position as your supervisor. “Do you remember the location?”
Glancing around, you searched for signs of suspicious activity. It felt like you were being watched. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Of course.”
“Get a burner and message me from that number when you get close. This phone will still be active. I’ll meet you there. Do you copy?”
“Yes,” you said, chilled by that tone. You hadn’t heard it in five years. Not since your last mission together.
Doyoung hung up. He was curt and to the point like that. When danger was imminent, there was no time to waste on niceties. This was not your friend Doyoung you’d come to know, but the cold leader of a formidable undercover unit.
Then a thought came to your mind and you rushed back inside the hotel room, immediately finding Johnny and frantically asking, “Did you open the envelope?”
Johnny’s eyes flickered. “No, but I was about to. Why?”
“Don’t touch it. Please.”
Johnny obliged, but he was catching on. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”
Rather than answer, you paraded over to your nightstand and retrieved a gun from beneath a stack of magazines in the drawer. Maybe you were considerably less paranoid than before, but you weren’t a dumbass. You still had enemies that would pay a pretty penny to have your head on a stick.
Johnny gawked at the weapon in your hand, presumably loaded. “Baby, what the hell?”
“So, change of plans,” you started, grabbing your suitcase and hurling it onto the bed, and began to toss your belongings inside. There weren’t many. This life had taunted you never to pack more than what you needed. “We’re going to the United States.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening,” Johnny replied sternly, coming to your side. “Why do you have a gun?”
A sigh escaped your lips and your eyes winced closed. This was the day you had always feared; the one where the time would come for your darkness to come to light. Johnny admired you for the pretty little image of yourself you’d painted in front of him. You weren’t ready for him to see you for who you really were.
What you really were.
Johnny pressed his forehead against yours, sensing the distress bubbling within you. He was tender and loving, even in a moment like this. Something more than you deserved. “Look at me.”
You obliged him. Without hesitation. No one thought it would be possible to tame you, but here you were, willingly submitting to a man. Hell must have frozen over.
Johnny brushed a hand through your hair gingerly, not wanting to startle you away, like you were some new animal adjusting to a stranger. “I don’t know what you might’ve done and what you might’ve seen, but none of that matters to me. I care about you. That will never change,” he told you in a whisper.
God, you wanted to believe him. It would have made things easier, being able to confide in him about all of the haunting horrors. You shook your head, overpowering your own tears. “Johnny, you don’t understand. I’ve done unforgivable things.”
Johnny’s voice was saccharine. “Then make me understand. Help me help you.”
“I wish it was that easy,” you mumbled, pulling away. You had to finish packing and relocate right now.
Your stubbornness was nothing new to Johnny, but that didn’t make it any less inconvenient. That said, he could sense the urgency of whatever predicament you had somehow landed yourself in, and started grabbing his things. He sighed, relenting. “How soon do we need to be in the United States?”
“As soon as possible.”
“I know a guy that knows a guy who has a jet,” Johnny told you, quickly folding something to toss into his suitcase. “He can get us there in half a day, maybe less.”
You paused in your tracks, considering your options. There was this unspoken arrangement about your relationship with Johnny. Your inexplicable connections that conveniently helped you out of each other’s dilemmas. But you never pressed him about it, because you couldn’t afford him asking you questions either.
Out of curiosity’s sake, you asked, “What’s his name?”
“Jaehyun.”
That name rang no bells, but you would’ve been more alarmed if you even vaguely recognized it. “Okay. Call him, but be quick about it.” The people hunting me waste no time.
Johnny did as told, swiftly taking his phone out of his pocket and heading into the bathroom to make a call.
With the last of your things zipped away in your suitcase, you had no choice but to sit there waiting for something to happen, which was not your favorite hobby ever. There were stories, in the underworld, of snipers that could stay awake for days waiting on the perfect opportunity to eliminate their subs.
Johnny crossed your mind again and you shuddered, worries heightening. You glanced over at the letter. It had been addressed to him, not you, however, that only made you assume your hunters had something worse in store for you. Something darker.
Though on the other hand, it made you hyper aware of the darkness you had sucked Johnny into solely by associating with him. Your boyfriend was now a liability, exactly as you’d feared, but you refused to leave him to fend for himself. They had made plain that they knew what he was worth to you and you’d be damned if you let him die for the sake of your survival.
The assassins tracking down your unit like prey weren’t bunglers and there was no doubt that they’d be coming after you next. You had spent months studying the intricacies of the assignment and attempting to comprehend their behavior. Every breakthrough brought you closer to confirming the identity of the leader until it was all suddenly over.
Someone snitched. You still didn’t know who for certain, but you doubted they were a member of the original seven proxies assigned to the unit. Four of them were dead. There were only three of you left, as far as you knew.
Thus you did everything in your power to lay low and make yourself even more elusive. You were ever on the move, denying yourself the freedom that came with becoming too comfortable. Then, you met Johnny this year in February, on a mission in Long Beach. He had been a normal guy at some fancy hotel, never meant to be more than one night of drunken fun. So you were pleasantly surprised when one night became eight months.
And even more so when you subsequently forfeited your career. You hadn’t fully recovered from that life and you doubted you ever would, but Johnny made it easier to live with your unjustifiable mistakes. He saw something in you that no one else did. Not even yourself.
If only you knew what.
Johnny emerged from the bathroom, the sound of the door opening drawing your attention to him. “Good news,” he started, heading for the bed. “He’s available. It should be ready for us when we get there.”
“Then let’s not waste any time,” you said, tucking away your gun.
If Johnny had any more questions, and you knew full well he did, he still didn’t ask.
Like Johnny had said, the private jet was waiting for the two of you when you arrived and you hurriedly climbed aboard. They knew where you were. Why they hadn’t taken you out when they had the chance was a mystery, but you decided to count your blessings. You were (for now) still alive and that was all that mattered.
You tried to get some sleep, given that you would be up and flying for a good minute, but to no avail. You usually found plane rides oddly peaceful, but there were a million thoughts in your mind vying for your attention all at once. It was all you could do not to think about your hidden career.
It had its perks, the coin stained in other people’s blood, and the companionship of a few of the friends you’d met along the way, but most people in the underworld were not exactly affable and there was always a fear in the back of your mind that one day it would be you who died for the gain of another.
Johnny laced his fingers through yours and you glanced over at him. “Talk to me,” he murmured, sweet as ever.
You shook your head. You had met many perceptive people in your lifetime, but Johnny took the cake. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can,” Johnny said, reaching for your other hand and also taking it in his. “You can talk to me about anything.”
You glimpsed down at your intertwined hands, then back up at his deep brown eyes. They were too damn discerning. “There’s something about me you don’t know.”
Johnny said nothing, but those words made him raise a brow. He was silently gesturing for you to continue, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.
God dammit, was he trying to disarm you? Because it was working. You hated how easy it was for him to render you vulnerable. You - the most formidable of proxies this generation had ever known.
The thought made you laugh, which Johnny obviously wasn’t expecting. You shook your head and explained, “I’m shocked you haven’t left me. Most people would have wanted no parts the second they saw the strap.”
“Can I hold it?”
You burst into laughter again. Like hell. “You want me to give you a loaded weapon? I don’t know what you know. That’s like giving a bomb to a baby.”
Johnny chuckled, but he sobered almost immediately after, loosely draping an arm over your shoulder. “Hey, for the record, it’s gonna take a lot more than a gun to make me wanna leave you. I’m crazy about you,” he confessed, whispering. “And the way I see it, you’re a little crazy all on your own.”
You grinned, appreciating the way he could say something serious and make you giggle in the same minute. “Maybe I am.”
“By the way,” Johnny began gingerly, as if one wrong move would startle you away. Which wasn’t too far off. “Why didn’t you want me to touch that letter earlier?”
The amusement quickly fell from your lips and the change was not lost on Johnny. The space around you was virtually silent till you willed yourself to murmur, “I think it was laced.”
Johnny blinked in shock. “Laced? Like that Amerithrax shit?”
You shrugged. “Something like that. I don’t think it’s anthrax, but whatever it is, it’s just as deadly. Killed someone I know just from opening it. I got the call about his death this morning.”
“Damn, baby,” Johnny said with a wince, taken aback. “What did he do to deserve that?”
“It’s a long story,” you mumbled under your breath.
It was obvious you didn’t intend on elaborating any further than you already had and Johnny didn’t press, especially became a more jarring thought came. “But the letter was addressed to me,” he pointed out, clearly confused. “Not to you.”
“I know. They don’t want to kill me off immediately, for whatever reason.”
“That means you’re special, I guess.”
A chill shot down your spine. You already knew, but him saying it aloud made it true. For some inexplicable reason, they wanted to play the long game with you by watching you suffer.
“I’m sleepy,” you said. A lie, but a convenient one. You wanted to be alone in your thoughts a little longer. “I think I’ll rest my eyes.”
Johnny chuckled. “For only a few seconds, I’m guessing?”
Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” Johnny whispered, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to the temple of your forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful.”
“Night, Johnny,” you murmured.
After a few moments of thinking of the unthinkable future, you eventually tormented yourself to sleep, waking up some hours later with your head on Johnny’s shoulder. You wholeheartedly blamed him. He was holding your hand delicately, caressing the back of it the entire time. Almost like he knew you needed it.
You weren’t as relieved as you thought you would be when you touched down in the United States. Ironically, you felt less exposed to danger thousands of feet above the ocean than you did on American soil. Johnny was turning you soft. You’d rather be somewhere in his arms.
The safe house you would be holing up in until further notice was given to you by one of your trusted American contacts. It wasn’t particularly easy to find, which was a nuisance for you today, but something you would undoubtedly be grateful for later on. The place was a far cry from luxurious, but it was low-key, and that was enough to keep you happy.
“Ah. Feels just like home,” Johnny said with a bucket load of sarcasm.
Dragging your luggage inside, your shoulders shook as you laughed. “I’ve gotta make a call.” Then, you nudged his side gently and quipped, “Be a good boy and don’t talk to any strangers while I’m gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny chirped obediently.
You entered the kitchen. It was small, cramped. Not that you would be doing much eating when you were stressed like this. You grabbed the burner phone you’d picked up on the way and dialed a number from memory, hoping you wouldn’t be too late.
The phone rang for a while. You almost thought that nobody would answer, for a multitude of reasons, until you finally heard a chary, “Who’s this?”
“Mark.” You sighed in relief. “Thank god. It’s me. Are you holding up okay?”
“So you got that call too, huh?” Mark asked, though it was obvious. You had no other reason to be calling. You didn’t mean to be distant, but it was not often you reached out to your former co-workers.
But it was still good to hear his voice. With two of your other co-workers gone one week after the other, it was clear they were hunting each of you down one by one. “I got it last night,” you replied, exhaling through your nose. “This morning, technically. Monaco is seven hours ahead of Illinois.”
You could hear movement in the background, like he was actively packing his things with his ear pressed to his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m leaving Canada. I should get over there in a couple of hours. I was actually just about to toss this phone. You have great timing.”
That surprised you. Mark was the opposite of you, feeling safer in one place that felt like home rather than never getting too comfortable anywhere. “You’re not staying in Toronto? You haven’t left in years.”
“They killed my sister,” Mark hissed. You could hear the hurt in his voice, the bite in his tone. He was who you were worried about most. “I know that I’m probably being led into a kill box, but I can’t just stay here. I’ll put a bullet in her killer’s head myself by the time this shit blows over.”
“Mark,” you started, but you knew there was no use.
Mark said your name sternly. “I already made up my mind. I’m on my way. I should be seeing you and Doyoung later.”
You blew out a breath. “Okay. Get here safe. Please.”
“I will,” he said reassuringly. “Be as careful as you can, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Wait.”
You were just about to hang up when he spoke those words in the nick of time. “Yes?”
Mark’s tone was accustory, “Your boytoy’s with you. Isn’t he?”
You stifled a sigh. There it was, the cons of being buddies with proxies as good at their jobs as you were. “He’s at risk. They sent him the envelope. Not me. They will hurt him to get to me.”
“Maybe,” Mark said, obviously none too convinced by that possibility. “Or maybe it’s a setup. You could be his sub.”
Glancing around the area to make sure Johnny was out of earshot, you whispered, “Mark, I’ve given my life to this field and the sick people infesting it. He’s as normal as they get.”
“Is he?”
“Mark,” you snapped.
Mark let it die. “Fine. But you better be in one piece next time I see you, or it’s him I’m going after.”
Well, there was no use in arguing with him when he used that tone. It firmly indicated that he meant business. “Don’t worry,” you said softly, glimpsing around again. “Bye, Mark.”
When the call was over, you slipped the burner into your pocket and braced yourself for your next task. You had to make sure this place was secure enough to hold you for the upcoming nights.
Nine years in the industry had taught you that there was no such thing as being too safe and it was always in your best interest to be virtually untraceable. You double checked every window, making sure they were all locked. You also clocked a number of potential exits and noted all of your options.
It was borderline impossible to rest knowing that your life was at stake, and you damn sure wouldn’t make yourself an easy kill. If somebody really wanted you dead, they had their work cut out for them. You had spent too much time building up your power to let it be snatched out of your hands without a fight.
With the house taken care of, you could breathe a little easier in relief. You took out the burner and typed in the number you had memorized. In the city. I’m ready whenever you are.
Delivered. No matter how much you hated it, you felt like a sitting duck amongst sharp-toothed sharks.
“Had enough?” Johnny asked, poking his head around the corner. He’d seen you checking out the windows.
You’d heard his footsteps, knowing he was coming. It might have come off as excessively paranoid, or obsessively so, but you were a listener, and recognizing the distinct sounds of someone’s steps had saved your life. More than once. “Yeah, I think so. Just had to make sure the safe house is really safe.”
Johnny chortled, fully entering the living room now, and walked over to sit beside you. “We’re in the middle of only God knows where. I think we’ll be pretty okay, baby.”
“I sure hope so,” you muttered.
Johnny cocked his head. “You said there’s something about you that I don’t know, but you never told me what.”
And that was how it would stay. At least for now. The phone call with Mark reminded you of what was at stake and you had to remember that everyone was a suspect. “I didn’t?”
“You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to,” Johnny assured you gently, resting a hand on your back. “But I want you to remember that this is bigger than you. Assuming whoever is after you knows about us, my life is at stake too. Not only yours.”
Something bitter scorched its way down your throat. He wasn’t exactly wrong. It was a conclusion you had already come to, but that didn’t mean you weren’t opposed. The fact that someone had attempted to take him out angered you to no end. “I know that. And I’ll come clean. But not right now.”
Those words brooked no argument, and knowing your tendency to keep things close to your chest, Johnny asked instead, “When do we move out?”
You stretched your arms above your head, hoping to shake the tense feeling within you in spite of knowing it had nothing to do with your muscles. “The minute I get the call. I let my former supervisor know that we landed. He’s not exactly the sociable type, but he’ll let me know when we’re clear.”
“You two must get along great then,” Johnny quipped.
You rolled your eyes, recognizing his attempts at humor, but softened. “Listen, Johnny. I’m sorry I got you dragged into this mess. I never meant for you to see this part of me, but my past is coming back to bite me in the ass.”
Johnny’s brows knitted together. “Are you an assassin or something?”
“Yes, and that’s all you need to know right now,” you said, crossing your legs on the chair.
Silence prevailed for a brief moment and you were worried you had reasonably startled Johnny, but you were surprised when he said, “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty daunting news, but I don’t give a fuck what you are, baby.”
Those were the last words you expected to come out of his mouth and you couldn’t decide if they were alarmed or comforting. “Are you sure?”
“Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure you had your reasons,” Johnny said, pulling you into his brawny arms. Not afraid of you. “I already told you, there’s nothing in this world that could change how I feel about you. I love you.”
Every muscle in your body went rigid. Although you had been dating for almost a whole year, you and Johnny had never muttered those three words until now. And it had been even longer since you’d heard them.
Your face was stiff and you didn’t make a move, but somehow Johnny could sense the panic within you. He had always been good at seeing plain through the walls you put up to protect yourself. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted you to know.”
That confused you to no end. “You don’t at least want to know if I love you back?”
Johnny sounded amused, which was the last reaction you were expecting. “I already know. It’s in everything you do. If you didn’t love me, you would have wordlessly left me in Monaco to die,” he said, gathering some of your hair in his hands and brushing it out of the way. “But I want you to say it when you’re ready and not a second before.”
You nodded, trying to play off the fact that your heart was beating quicker. How did he always just know?
Johnny moved his hand to your cheek, his touch featherlight, and continued, “I know something nightmarish is happening and you probably feel like the whole world is out to get you. Do whatever you think is right. Trust your gut and nothing else. Not your supervisor, not your friends. Not even me.”
You stared into Johnny’s eyes when he pulled back. They were deep and brown and hypnotic, pulling you clean under his spell in one fatal swoop. Like you were holding a gun and he was whispering in your ear for you to pull the trigger.
It was dangerous to love somebody to that extent and you knew it, but you were past the point of no return. Johnny was your one weakness, the only thing that could blind you. Your enemies were smart in targeting him first, but foolish to think you would let them take him away from you so easily.
With his hand still on your cheek, Johnny flirted, “May I ask you to lower your guard for a few moments while I kiss you, or am I asking for too much?”
“It’s okay,” you replied, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance. “You can kiss me.”
Johnny beamed in excitement. When his lips crashed against yours, you remembered why you were even here with him in the first place. Your body relaxed in his arms, knowing it was safe there, shielded from all the dangers of your twisted world. Johnny knew exactly how to disarm you, lowering all your many defenses.
His mouth fell downwards onto your throat and you knew what he was doing, but you couldn’t be bothered to stop him. You needed the relief and the place was secure enough. What was a little bonding time between two lovers?
“Mind if I take this to the bedroom?” Johnny asked, slipping a hand up your blouse.
You nodded, biting your lip.
Johnny effortlessly hoisted you into his burly arms and carried you into the bedroom, tossing you onto the bed. You giggled as he crawled over you, threading your fingers through his dark hair to pull his mouth back onto yours. There was no delaying the soft sighs you made as Johnny felt up your body.
The two of you stayed there like that together for the longest time, your hands falling onto his broad shoulders and his grabbing a handful of your boobs. More often than not, sex was a game of patience. You were both stubborn in your own way, scheming to utterly ravage each other.
For some reason, Johnny was an expert at both dominating and manipulating your body, and for some even weirder reason, you let him. He always seemed to intuitively know what you needed and how you needed it. No one understood you like that. Johnny was the first human being you had let get close enough to wield that kind of power over you, and it was equally as sexy as it was unnerving.
You shuddered at the feeling of his big hands as they advanced down your thighs. They were so cold sometimes. Back when you first got together and holding hands gave you the most outrageous butterflies, you used to tease that he was like a snake or something.
In the heat of your kisses, shirts were thrown and pants were tossed. You gawked at the sight of Johnny’s toned abs even though you had already seen them a thousand times before. He preferred to travel to countries with plenty of sunshine and hot sand. Naturally, you’d seen him shirtless in a year more than you’d seen your mother.
“Fuck me,” you moaned, simmering with yearning. Your hands wandered down his burly chest.
When they finally reached the navy blue shorts you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why he was still wearing, you grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s half-hard cock, and he tensed with the same thought. Johnny may have prided himself on his extreme willpower and self-control, but you knew a thing or three about ruining men, and you were damn good at it.
It was obvious you were up to no good. You met Johnny’s stare as you pumped his cock stiff in your hands, watching him falter. He was melting right there between your fingers. If only he was fully naked. You would have been trailing kisses down the base of his cock.
You smirked when you heard him groan your name under his breath. That long thread of patience was unraveling. There was this battle between the two of you, taking turns sending each other into oblivion. The thing about you and Johnny was that sex started long before any clothes came off.
Johnny swatted your hand away. Gently, of course. “Okay,” he said in that firm tone that meant he’d had enough.
You couldn’t resist a satisfied grin. There was nothing like making a masculine man like himself lose control.
Johnny took the lead, sticking a hand between your legs, which you voluntarily widened for him without having to be told. He liked how submissive you became when in bed with him and chuckled faintly to himself, teasing his hand over the damp spot in your panties, and tempted to toy with you until you soaked through both sides.
It wasn’t that Johnny was very patient. You had the upper hand in that regard. But what he lacked in patience he made up for in obstinacy, which you both had an ample amount of, and made things all the more exhilarating.
You were sighing softly underneath him, your body gently arching into his touch as you felt yourself burn from the sheer proximity of his body to yours alone, and Johnny appreciated every second. There was a certain pleasure he got out of making you crack. You were tough and composed, something you prided yourself on, but something about breaking you felt like getting a small taste of your inner chaos.
A glimpse behind the forbidden door.
“Johnny,” you called out, trying not to sound whiny.
It didn’t help. Johnny could still read your body language flawlessly. He stifled a smirk, playing dumb. “Hm?”
You scowled at him. Not out of any genuine anger, of course. Though maybe a hint of frustration. You knew he was baiting you to the point of begging, wanting to satiate his ever hungry ego.
“Don’t you think it would be nice of you to do something?” you asked.
“I am doing something,” Johnny replied as if he was totally clueless to what you wanted. “I’m touching you, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. And it’s very generous of you to do that,” you said with a hint of sarcasm. “But maybe you could consider going the extra mile.”
“The extra mile? Oh, you mean, like, this?”
Johnny dipped a hand underneath the waistband of your underwear and your lips parted in a shaky gasp as you braced his shoulders again, instantly squirming. Your legs reflexively closed on him, but Johnny didn’t even blink, merely spreading them wide again with his free hand as he listened for the sweet sound of your pleasure.
“Am I right on the money?” he asked knowingly, finally letting that sly grin come out to play.
He was right on something. It may not have been money, but you could feel his thumb on your clit and it was making you shudder. You nodded, your whole body feeling electric. Your toes curled and your hands dropped, balling into fists on the sheets.
You could feel how hard he was as he leaned over you, his body damn near flush against yours, tauntingly close. The very hard bulge in his shorts was all you could feel in your thigh. Johnny ignored it. Which was getting increasingly harder the more he watched you whimper and tense with need, aching to be filled, but he wanted to play a little more.
Johnny decided to go another mile and slid a pair of long, thick digits inside your heat with no resistance from your body. You sucked him in, wet and ready, and Johnny watched the tension on your face elevate.
Your entire body was begging you to stop being stubborn and give in to Johnny’s demands if it meant he would do something to cease the endless throbbing in your core, but as good as his fingers felt in you and even better you knew his dick would feel, you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Though it certainly wasn’t more than what he deserved.
“You asshole,” you said, torn between your desires.
Johnny flinched, but smiled at your sudden outburst. “What I do now?”
You pretended to be angry, grumbling, “Making me want you. Fuck. You’re a piece of shit. I hate you.”
Johnny chuckled. He knew you didn’t mean a single word. You just didn’t want to admit that you needed him, even though everything in how your body was responding to his touches said more than enough. “You won’t be saying that when I fuck you,” he replied confidently.
“And when exactly will that be?”
“When I feel like it.”
You rolled your eyes. He could be so damn annoying. There was only room for one stubborn bitch in this relationship. You pointed out, “You’re hard.”
“So?”
You narrowed your eyes. “So, don’t you feel like it right now?”
“Nope,” Johnny replied with feigned indifference, pushing his fingers in and out of you and watching how you accepted them desperately. The whole thing made him wish it was his cock in you instead.
You didn’t buy that at all. Johnny wasn’t invincible, no matter how hard he tried. And his horniness was through the roof. “Johnny, fuck me.”
Johnny thought you bossing him around, or at least attempting to, was funny. “Say please.”
“Johnny, fuck me. Please,” you grumbled.
“Now was that so hard?” he asked, looking relatively pleased.
You didn’t get the chance to answer, because before you knew it, Johnny withdrew his digits from your sopping hole and stepped out of his shorts. He slipped your panties to the side and lined himself up with your entrance, his eyes on your cunt the entire time as he watched his cock steadily disappear inside.
Johnny’s hands clamped tightly onto your thighs as he sank deeper, tipping his head back with a moan at the hot, tight sensation of your pussy gushing around his cock. He tried to will himself to go slow, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much, but the way you were throbbing was testing his patience. And his restraint.
You were out of breath and he had hardly even done anything so far. The size of him never failed to knock the wind of you. It didn’t matter how many times you fucked, or how much he prepared you, Johnny still managed to taunt your limits.
“Jesus. Fuck,” you exhaled, craving his warmth and wanting to escape him in equal measure. Your hands grappled for something, anything, to ground yourself. When Johnny took you, he took you somewhere far, far away from earth.
Johnny would have been worried, if not for the fact that you had wound your legs snugly around his waist, forcing him deeper. He smirked. “Can I move, baby?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Move.”
Johnny groaned as he started to push in and out of you, dragging his thick cock through your walls. He never got used to this either. Maybe it was only in his mind, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you got tighter the more he fucked you. Wetter the more he stretched you out.
No one had ever made you feel this way before. You’d had meaningless sex a dozen times and then some, but this was something much different. There was so much passion seeping from your bodies and it made the ecstasy skyrocket tenfold. So much love, dare you say.
But the control Johnny had over your body was your favorite part by far. The orgasms brought by his will were the most powerful you’d ever had. They felt like you were releasing a dark part of you that had quietly attached itself to your soul. Johnny was good at showing you that if you let him take the lead, if you let go, he could bring you to elysian heights.
You thought for certain you were bound for hell, but damn, Johnny made you see heaven. And now that you knew what heaven felt like, you didn’t want to consider any other option.
Johnny could see it on your face. He always could. In the bedroom, at least. Out there, you could be cold and inscrutable, but when he was bringing you to your peak, there was no part of you that he didn’t see. “Still hate me?” he asked teasingly.
“No,” you stammered out. You wanted to say you loved him, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. Don’t say anything,” Johnny whispered, pressing sweet kisses along your throat and collarbone. “Just take me.”
You relaxed in his arms, succumbing to the building pressure in your core as Johnny took and took from your body, speeding up his steady rhythm. You loved when he did that. Though you knew Johnny valued your pleasure deeply, there was something about when he availed you, of how he bled you dry.
Johnny knew you would let him if he asked. You would let him do anything he wanted if it meant he’d be satisfied in the end. It was his reward for loving you without conditions. You were his beautiful, sick little lion that he’d tamed.
“You’re perfect for me. You know that?” Johnny asked a little breathlessly. “All for me.”
“Oh my god,” you whimpered, grabbing Johnny’s hair and pulling him down to you. His chest was flush against yours and you could feel the sweat of his body mingling with your own and the vicious thud of his heart as he moved.
You found his lips and kissed him hungrily, too hooked on passion to care about kissing him perfectly. The desperation in your touches only made Johnny want you more. He matched your energy and met his lips to yours with the same amount of fervor, if not crazier. You heard him groan and the sound did everything to turn you on.
There was no denying his fire for you and you appreciated every single bit. His skin burned, hot and sticky with a glistening sheen of dampness. Johnny was just as insane for and about you as you were over him, his body said so. Though it helped that he wasn’t shy with his words.
Johnny brought one hand between your legs and the other to your throat that was stained in marks leftover from his kisses. You were already weak and he knew exactly how to make you even weaker. You gasped when you realized what he was doing, looking into his eyes and finding nothing but a darkness that said he wanted to ravage you. It made you tighten.
You felt something in your stomach tighten when you saw Johnny’s face change, tensing with the wound of pleasure. He mumbled curses under his breath in a voice that made you shudder. You knew then that you weren’t far. He was going to finish you.
“Johnny, I’m close,” you told him through heavy pants.
Johnny tightened his grip on you, moving his hand faster over your clit. He chuckled when you moaned. “Yeah, you wanna come? Tell me how bad you need it.”
“God, Johnny. Please,” you begged, knowing he wanted to gauge how much he turned you on, how good he pressed your buttons. “I need to come. I need you. I can’t hold it. You feel too good. Oh my fuck.”
“Then go ahead. Let go for me, baby,” Johnny commanded darkly, watching you expectantly. He knew you were about to fall apart any moment now.
And you did. Your orgasm took hold of you and slammed you down onto the surface, and you felt the impact in every bone of your body. But rather than a dull ache, it was a heady euphoria. Johnny was there to sweep you into his arms, whispering sweet nothings as he coaxed you through every second like a gentleman.
He tried to act like the way you clamped around him and cursed out his name when you trembled with climax wasn’t getting to him, but Johnny was starting to melt into your heat and he couldn’t help how much getting you off got him off. It was too natural. He looked down at you proudly, taking in the sight of you laying there, trying to collect yourself.
You tried to take it as he continued to pound you out, trying to make himself come now than he had taken care of you, but it was making your head spin. “Johnny,” you whined.
Johnny raised a brow, playing innocent. “What? I didn’t say I was done with you. Now did I?”
You swallowed sharply. This wasn’t the first time he had fucked you through your orgasm and then some, but he was damn good at making it feel like it was.
“You tapping out on me?” Johnny taunted, knowing it would do the trick. You always had something to prove.
You shook your head. It was too much for you, but that was exactly the point. You let Johnny decide how much you could handle. He was the one in charge, like it or not. “No. Never.”
“Good,” Johnny chirped, satisfied. “You know what to say if you change your mind.”
You had a safe word, but you remembered using it only once. The word lingered in your mind but didn’t dare escape your lips. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to take you until there was nothing left. And then take some more.
Your silence was loud as ever and Johnny grinned, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He continued to have his way with you, his hands gentle as they wandered your entire body, but his hips slapping against yours with a vengeance as he tried to drive himself over the edge.
It wouldn’t be long. Johnny wanted to keep fucking you forever, die tangled together limb to limb, but with every hit through your slick walls he felt his grip on his restraint slack. You were breaking him down, piece by piece.
You couldn’t think straight. You could barely even see, your vision hazy with the faint sting of tears in your eyes. Johnny had once told you that there was a thin line between pain and pleasure and now he was taking you there. He delicately kissed your face and chest all over as he overstimulated you, making you teeter.
“Johnny, come,” you whispered, coaxing him to finish while still playing meek. “I want you to fuck me full. Please. Oh my god.”
Johnny grunted at the thought of fucking you full of his cum and the memory flickering into his brain. He tightened his hold on your body, hands falling to your perfect hips, and moved even faster. You gasped when he sank his teeth into your neck, fiending for you. All of you.
You took it like you were made to take him. Your soft moans and sweet cries were unraveling Johnny quicker than he would have liked, making his dick twitch inside you, and it was only a matter of seconds until he lost the fight.
It was insane how much power you wielded over each other. You knew all the right places to touch, all the right words, all the right things to say. There were no limits. Only getting lost in the endless cosmos of each other.
Johnny closed his eyes as he at last came with a delicious, guttural groan that made you burn with the urge to suck the soul out of him. He kept fucking you until he felt like stopping, his warmth flooding into your wet pussy, and the sensation made you moan.
When he was finally sated, he collapsed against your chest, smothering you with the weight of him that you loved. You could feel his tired breath on your neck and the heat of his body against yours, and it was oddly comforting.
Johnny lifted his head from the crook of your neck to peer into your eyes, asking, “You okay?”
You nodded. “I’m good. Thank you for that.”
Johnny chuckled. He could feel the tension leaving your body and he was proud, and more than glad, to be of service. “Pleasure is my business and I aim to satisfy.”
You giggled at his words, wounding your arms around his broad shoulders while you held him close. You knew you would have to get up one way or another, but not right now. This was your time to simply be there for each other.
And that was what you did, but then you had a mischievous thought and it was all you could do not to snicker as you untangled yourself from Johnny’s arms. He was reluctant to let you go, but relented, watching you with curious eyes.
You brought your hand down to his now soft cock, toying with him as you tried to get him up again. There was an untamed look in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Johnny.
He tensed immediately when he felt your hands on him. His voice was suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” you replied in a tone that was way too innocent to be believable.
Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re doing something.”
You giggled, gently shoving at him. It didn’t work, but Johnny took it as a sign that you wanted him to shift, and so he sat up on the bed. You followed, returning your hand between his legs as you stroked him back rigid.
“Are you really trying to make me come again?”
You shrugged. That was only half your goal. You wanted to make him lose his mind, and the best way to do that was to give him a nut he would always remember. “Why not? Don’t tell me that’s all you got for me, handsome?”
“I always got more for you,” Johnny flirted without hesitation.
You smirked, moving from the bed and sinking onto your knees. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Johnny had only just managed to recover his breathing when he felt his breath start to hitch again as you pumped him stiff in your hands, which only took a few moments. You were his vice. Nothing got him hard like you, the thought of you, and the promise of fucking you.
When he was ready, you took him into your mouth slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You kept your fist around the base of his cock, figuring it would be best to have multiple sensations. Johnny groaned. It was one thing to fist his own cock, but when you were the one doing it, it was like his entire body was in flames.
“Fuck,” he grunted, tangling his fingers through your hair none too gently. He knew you liked it a little rough, knew you didn’t feel alive without pain.
Your supple hands moved just fast enough to make Johnny want more and your mouth took just enough of him that you weren’t gagging. He was a really big boy. Though you knew you could fit more, you wanted to draw things out for as long as you could, slowly tasting his shaft with your tongue.
Johnny gave your cheek a little impatient slap when he started to get annoyed with your teasing. This was the only man you would let touch you like that and get away with it. Mainly because it was hot coming from him and you liked pushing his buttons.
Ignoring the faint burn of his palm on your cheek, you obliged his silent command, knowing better than to test him. He wouldn’t hesitate to take away all the power you thought you had right now and have you at his mercy. You took more of him into your mouth, head bobbing around his cock.
“Shit, baby. Like that. Suck me just like that,” Johnny moaned. You loved the breathlessness in his voice, the way he sounded borderline desperate. And you loved knowing that it was only for you even more.
Johnny watched you suck him off like it was the driving force behind your life, seemingly having your fill of teasing him. He gathered another fistful of your hair, using it to keep you in check. You looked so pretty on your knees for him, kneading his cock with your perfect tongue.
It was everything you knew it would be, knew he would be unable to resist. You wanted to see him unravel one good time before the night was over, no matter the cost. The bruises forming on your knees and the dull soreness developing in your throat be damned.
You loved pleasing Johnny. Not only because you got pleasure from having the power to make a dominant man like him lose his shit, though that was a significant part of it. There was a giving side of you that just wanted to see him content as his reward for making you feel safe and comfortable.
The violent need for control you had stemmed from a lifelong struggle with power. You had been completely helpless before and now you wanted to conquer the unconquerable. There was nothing that would stand between you and what you wanted. After being denied so many times, you became the villain and began to take.
But Johnny was just as stubborn as you, if not more. He couldn’t be bent into shape and he would never bend to anyone’s will. Though it took you a minute to accept, you liked that about him. He didn’t view you as something to be feared. And he seized control over you without making you feel like something to own.
There was no way in hell you could repay him for that, but you knew he would settle for a mind-numbing blowjob.
Johnny grumbled curses under his breath as he started to rock into your throat without warning, setting a rhythm of his own. He was close to the edge and he needed to come. You weren’t prepared. You gagged a little bit, eyes burning. But you didn’t complain.
“I’m gonna come,” Johnny warned, though it was relatively obvious. “Take it all for me, baby. I know you can.”
You allowed Johnny to fuck your throat as he so pleased, desperately trying to handle his aggressive pace and willing yourself not to gag by sheer force. The throbbing between your thighs had returned and you chastised yourself for getting horny over being used.
Johnny tipped his head back with a moan he couldn’t stifle before looking back down at you again, something sharp and hungry in his stare. You looked up and met his gaze, your eyes misty with unshed tears, and the sight made him bust on the spot.
His thighs trembled as he released, painting the back of your throat with a load of hot cum you attempted to swallow. He hissed in something like pain but not quite there, his grip tightening on your hair, inadvertently pulling your face flush against his balls.
It was a sight you would never forget. The way his handsome face tensed perfectly in a dangerous kind of ecstasy, a deep groan of your name escaping his lips. The way he swallowed as he accepted his defeat. It was absolutely beautiful.
Johnny panted, pulling you off him and wiping a stray tear from your face with his thumb. “You win. This time. Next time I won’t go easy on you.”
Your voice was a little hoarse from the rough fucking it had received as you snickered and replied, “If that was you going easy on me, I’d hate to see you going hard.”
Johnny smirked. “Please. You love when I go hard.”
You rolled your eyes playfully.
Johnny ushered you to the bathroom for a shower. Though it was much smaller than you knew he was used to, he didn’t complain. He was mostly focused on taking care of you and worshiping your body after ravaging it. Which was only fair.
You fell asleep in record time, tangled in his embrace. Nights with Johnny ensured the easiest sleep you had ever gotten. There was something about the arms of a big, strong man like him that easily lured you someplace far away. They were the safest place in the world.
Morning came and Johnny rose before you did, gingerly slipping from behind you. Watching your face as he climbed out of the bed, he was careful to make sure you didn’t stir. The last thing he wanted was to wake you up when you were blissfully oblivious. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and started out.
Johnny glanced at you one more time before leaving. You looked so peaceful, curled up into the blankets. He’d noticed that you had this uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any given time. He shook his head and made for the door. Most nights he lay awake.
Something didn’t feel right. You noticed the empty spot in the small bed and the lack of arms around your body immediately upon rousing. That was weird. Where had Johnny gone? Did he leave in pursuit of coffee? Or did someone get to him while you were sleeping?
You told yourself you were being ridiculous and tossed the blankets off your body, sliding your feet into a pair of slippers. The possibilities were endless, but it was reasonable to assume Johnny was still in the house somewhere. He wouldn’t have gone without a fight. And there was no doubt you would have heard a struggle.
The sound of his voice coming from the living room made you grind to a halt in the tiny, dark hallway. He sounded like he was speaking on the phone. You tried to make out who he was talking to, but his responses gave nothing away. They were too straightforward.
Much like how you were trained to answer questions on the phone when the wrong people were privy to your conversations.
You lingered in the hall, wondering whether you should have approached or not. Something told you not to give yourself away just yet, but something else told you to stop treating Johnny like a sub by spying on him. Fuck’s sake, he was your partner.
Before you could decide, Johnny hung up the phone and started for the kitchen. You acted like you were casually walking down the hallway and greeted him sweetly.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Johnny replied, slipping his fingers through yours as he led you into the kitchen with him. “I made coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Johnny added playfully, “For myself. But you’re more than welcome to have some.”
You rolled your eyes. He was only kidding, but you always loved how much energy this guy could have in the morning. You were an early riser because it was built into you. Johnny was just a productive kind of man.
The kitchen was uncomfortably crowded even with only the two of you inside, so you shifted over to the slightly larger living room while you drank coffee together. Johnny was sitting beside you on the couch with his spare hand instinctively resting on your thigh, tracing circles on your exposed skin.
Your eyes flickered to his naked back for all of two seconds before you willed yourself to focus on the important bits. “I heard you on the phone earlier,” you mentioned, getting a conversation rolling.
Johnny seemed totally relaxed, as if he had nothing to hide. “Did you now?”
“Yeah, I did,” you replied, glancing back down at his hand on your thigh before meeting his eyes. “Who were you talking to?”
Johnny realized by now that you were doubting him in some way, and he was quick to explain, “I was talking to my mom, letting her know that we might have to do a rain check. You and I were supposed to fly out and see her this weekend. Remember?”
That was true. Your last night in Monaco was always meant to be yesterday regardless of how the day’s events played out. “Ah,” you replied, quiet. It would have been your first time meeting his mother. Which meant things were serious. “Well, you’re still close to home.”
“She doesn’t know that,” Johnny said. “She did most of the talking. I was trying to keep her from getting worried without revealing too much information.”
That was a perfectly logical explanation and you believed him wholeheartedly. You made a face, feeling guilty for suspecting someone as harmless as Johnny. Maybe that phone call with Mark the other day was making you even more paranoid than you already were.
That was the way of life around here, though. Your kind didn’t believe in being innocent until proven guilty. It was the other way around. As much as you wanted to deny it, Mark had a valid point. You needed to hold Johnny to the same standard that you held henchmen.
But you still felt bad. In your mind, Johnny was probably the last person you needed to be evaluating. “I’m sorry,” you whispered with obvious guilt.
“Don’t apologize,” Johnny told you, patting your thigh. “You want to be safe. I get it. Like I said, trust your gut.”
You swallowed. That was the problem. You had always trusted your gut, but between her and your heart, you couldn’t tell the difference when you were with Johnny. “There’s an old saying in the underground, uh, my former boss told me. Death that tastes like sugar is poison.”
Johnny cocked his head, staring deeply into your eyes. And maybe your soul. “What’s it mean?”
“That something that seems too good to be true probably is,” you said, your gaze unfaltering as you watched him watch you.
Johnny took that in stride, chuckling. Draping an arm over you, he asked softly, “How do you sleep at night when you’re always looking over your shoulder?”
“Because I have you next to me,” you quipped.
Johnny laughed. “Good answer.”
Playfully ruining the mood, you added, “And your dick also makes a good lullaby. You wear me out.”
“Better answer,” Johnny replied, leaning in to meet his lips to yours in a gentle, intimate kiss. The feeling of your body made him feel warm all over.
You kissed him back, hands combing through his hair. And he was sweet as sugar.
You soon forgot all about your suspicions and tried to forget about your worries as well, but it was much harder done than said. Keeping your mind off the madness was like pulling teeth. Johnny wanted to help, but the more he tried to comfort you, the more shame and dread made your stomach ache.
You were just antsy. Waiting on a phone call or something from Doyoung was leaving you on edge. The silence was suffocating. Any moment you could die and the people hunting you had a solid five different ways to take you out of the picture. For good.
At the same time, you were thinking of Johnny’s comfort too. You could tell he didn’t exactly love this place. It was a far cry from the luxurious suite in Monaco, but it was something you were accustomed to as a criminal. Your only hope was that it didn’t inconvenience Johnny too much to be here. You knew how he hated confinement.
You also knew that it was for the best. There was no way you could promise to keep him safe if he wasn’t here beside one of the most lethal proxies to enter the league. Though you couldn’t help but regret coming into his life and bringing your chaos with you. It was selfish. He may have insisted that he wasn't afraid of your darkness, but Johnny had also never seen your monsters.
Even you were scared of them. That said more than enough.
With that thought, you considered the only thing you hadn’t done. The one option you had been actively avoiding. Which was telling Johnny the whole truth. You were painfully aware that if you told him the full extent of what you were, you couldn’t just stop there. You would have to tell him everything.
That thought was terrifying. It might have done you some good to confess away the weight on your chest, but you didn’t want anything to change more than it likely already had. You liked things between you and Johnny the way they were without him knowing what all you’d done, but the truth of the matter was that he already knew. He may not have known the details, but there was no doubt he had imagined it.
Frankly, whatever he was picturing in his head was probably nothing compared to what you had actually gone through.
With a sigh, you removed yourself from your post in the living room and made your way over to the bedroom where Johnny was. He looked up when he heard you come in and watched you plop down beside him. “Hi,” you greeted, shyer than you had ever been with him.
Johnny held back a chuckle, wondering what that meant. “Hi, beautiful.”
That word stung to an indescribable level, because you felt so ugly at the moment. For what you had done. For what you had seen. And for what you hadn’t said. “I’m coming clean.”
Johnny raised a brow. “Oh?”
You nodded, stuck in the middle of an extremely unfair game of tug of war with your nerves. “Yeah. You deserve to know the truth. And the truth is that I’ve been hiding myself from you for eight months.”
Johnny didn’t say a word, letting you talk. He recognized that look on your face, the one that meant you had something to get off your chest.
You took a deep breath and explained, “When we first met in that hotel earlier this year, I was in the middle of a mission. A week after we hooked up, I finished it. It was the last one I ever did, because I got so tangled in you that you made me want to be normal again. So I hung up my cap and tried to live a happy life with you.”
“But then this happened,” he finished for you in typical Johnny fashion.
“Yeah,” you replied, glancing down at your hands in your lap and chuckling faintly. “Five years ago, I was a part of a unit assigned to eliminate a major sub in the underground. Subject, I mean. That’s what we call our hits.”
Johnny nodded along in understanding. “I’m guessing that didn’t go too well?”
You swallowed, fumbling with your hands. This was your least favorite part of the story. “We got so close. We were at this ball for his drug front. I still don’t know how it happened and how he found out, but two of us died that night. The other five survived by the skin of our teeth.”
“That dude you said opened a poisoned letter,” Johnny started, mentally connecting the dots. “Was he a member of your team?”
You frowned. “He was. There was another girl too, and she was killed the other morning. There’s only three of us now. We’re all being hunted to the last man.”
The room was silent. It didn’t surprise you that Johnny had gone quiet, probably trying to process everything you were telling him, but it did unnerve you a little.
You had so much more to say. Now that you had gotten started, a part of you didn’t want to stop. You had been carrying these secrets with you since forever. “After we made it out, we had all agreed to lay low and not draw any attention to ourselves. One of my partners went back home to Canada because that’s where he feels safe. But I don’t feel safe anywhere. That’s why I’m always moving. It’s not because I like traveling. It’s because I’m on the run.”
“That’s like running from your shadow,” Johnny whispered, gently putting an arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t in any way malicious, but that comment made you sweat.
He was right. The shadow of who you were would follow you perpetually. You couldn’t just wipe the slate clean now that it was stained in blood. It was naive of you to think that the past wouldn’t come back to bite you. This life had chosen you, after all. Not the other way around.
“You are the one place in this world where I feel safe. Where I feel like I don’t have to hide,” you confessed, glancing up to meet his gaze. “But at the same time, that’s why I’ve been hiding from you. I was scared that if you knew what I really am, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. And I would lose the only reliable thing I have.”
Johnny didn’t say anything about that, gingerly running his hands over you. You already knew that he wasn’t leaving. “What all do you know about this sub you were hunting?”
The better question would have been what you didn’t know. You worked harder than you’d played, and you’d gone through great lengths to uncover the dirty secrets of that syndicate and each of its high-ranking members. The Emperor, their leader. Volcano, the explosionist. Toxic, the poisoner. Bullseye, the sniper. Torch, the arsonist. And Backstabber, the spy.
You sighed, being forced to confront the part of your life you’d been running from for the past five years. “Frankly, I’ve never seen his face. We just know that he runs one of the most dangerous syndicates in the underground. We got damning info on their ranks, their functions and their operations. It was the most advanced job I ever had.”
“How come?”
“Well, because the core of my job is that I’m more of a killer,” you replied, the words like poison on your own tongue. “When you kill big fish, it’s natural to have to do a lot of digging to establish the best method, but nothing like this. This was months of grueling effort even with a team. And it was my first time with a group.”
You were not used to working on a team and it was more than a little obvious, but the seven of you made it work. Mark could testify to your aloofness. You were good friends now, but you rarely went out of your way to speak to him. It was nothing personal; that was just how you rolled.
Johnny was taking all of this surprisingly well. He didn’t flinch once when you casually mentioned killing. “Five years is a long wait.”
You shrugged your shoulders. You had held grudges for much longer. And in the underground, people forgot very little. They forgave even less. “When you make an attempt on someone’s life, it’s not,” you told him, a shiver running your own spine. “It’s perfectly calculated revenge. Like I said, our unit buckled down on safety after the mission failed. I’m sure the syndicate wanted to wait until we let our guard down to strike.”
“You said it's a big syndicate,” Johnny reminded, maybe the smallest hint of concern in his voice, as if he was trying not to let it show. “Where do you stand in the line between the powerful and the powerless?”
That was an unexpected question and it made your brows knit together in thought. “Well, I’m not in the game anymore, but I’ve spent a lifetime building up my power and rep. I’ve got influence. I could still have my hand in the business if I wanted, if you know what I mean. And I’m a pretty good damn shot. I’ve never missed.”
Johnny cocked his head. “So you just threw it all away to be with me? And they just let you?”
“When I last worked, I was a freelance proxy. I didn’t belong to a network and I never will again,” you replied with noticeable disdain. “When you’re as good as me, it gets you power, but it also gets you a lot of enemies. So obviously there’s a lot of people out there that don’t wanna see me happy. That’s why I lay low.”
Johnny took a good look at you. He knew you were making it sound easier than it was, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. The place he was looking was far deeper. “Why this life? Why not something more normal or less dangerous? Why did you choose to live a life where the only thing you can trust is your gut?”
“I didn’t choose it,” you said, quiet as a mouse. “I didn’t have a chance to be anything different. It was either this, or a slow death. I lived on the streets as a kid and I saw a lot of crazy shit in a short time. I guess it desensitized me. Which made me the perfect candidate for a contract killer.”
“So you were taken in?” Johnny asked.
“Remember how I said I didn’t wanna be in a network again?”
Johnny nodded his head, seeing where you were going with this, and he frowned at the thought of something happening to you. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Well, they took me in when I was twelve,” you told him, less than proud. But you told yourself countless times that you’d only done what you had to do to survive. “Primed me for the job. They said I would make them a lot of money someday. And I did.”
Johnny wasn’t too convinced that this was so simple either. “There’s more to the story. Isn’t there?”
You tensed with something far more explosive than anger and potent than sadness, something that made your eyes blur. You fought it with all your strength, whispering, “I went through a lot of shit, Johnny. But I couldn’t leave. Because they told me they were the only family I would ever have. And they weren’t wrong. But the shit they put me through? I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And I have a lot of those.”
Johnny frowned, but he’d expected as much. He doubted there were a large number of people that had a normal upbringing and yet went on to become contract killers, if any at all. He whispered your name softly. “You didn’t deserve whatever you went through.”
Your eyes were burning. “Then why does it feel like I’ve been punished since the second I was born?”
Hearing you say that broke Johnny’s heart. It was clear to him that you had been through hell and back. More than anything, he wanted to relieve you of all your suffering and kill all the demons he knew you’d faced. The demons he knew you weren’t done facing. “I want you to listen to me carefully,” he said softly, taking your hand in his own. “You are not being punished. I know it’s unfair what happened to you, but you did what anyone would have done to make it. You made a hard choice. You made the strong one.”
“I’m tired of being strong,” you murmured.
“I know. I know you are,” Johnny replied, letting you rest your head on your shoulder. “But that’s exactly what these people want. They want to break you down and give you a reason not to fight. Don’t let them win.”
You were silent for a long minute, strangely comforted by his words. So many times had you thought of giving up, of letting go. The main reason you were still alive was because you were too cocky to let anyone else kill you and too much of a coward to do it on your own.
Finally, you glanced up into Johnny’s eyes and asked, “Why aren’t you scared of me?”
Johnny could see the vulnerability in your expression, a part of you he had never seen before, and it made him even more curious about you than he already was. “Because I don’t think you’re a monster.”
Those words came with an impact. You didn’t know how to feel. There was something about the way Johnny saw you that was so damn precious and too much of a damn lie.
“Call me crazy, but I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to scare me away,” he continued, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.
You swallowed hard. It was hard to believe that you had found someone with such unwavering loyalty to you, without any ulterior motives. You felt bad for doubting him again, but you just couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right. Your insecurities were loud.
One part of it was that you had always viewed Johnny as the perfect picture of what a normal life should have looked like. What did it mean if he glimpsed into your world and somehow didn’t immediately run the other direction?
Johnny tilted your head up and placed his thumb on your bottom lip, as if he was preparing to lean in for a kiss. You would have let him, but in that very moment, your phone began to ring in your back pocket.
You startled, pulling away and immediately putting the phone up to your ear. “What’s the move?”
“It’s time,” came Doyoung’s voice from the phone, stern as ever. “You know where to go. Don’t waste any time.”
“Copy that,” you answered, sending a look Johnny’s way to let him know it was time to get going.
The line went dead and you immediately got to work. Johnny had already started moving, preparing to leave the house and head towards the final destination. “Where are we even going?” he asked in the middle of gathering his things for the second time.
It was a valid question and Johnny was half expecting a vague answer, so he was surprised when you replied, “Dead Man’s End. It’s an old refuge for assassins, been around since the eighties. It’s kind of like a hitman hotel, if you will.”
Johnny grimaced. “That just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. Are you sure about this?”
You exhaled a deep breath, pausing dead in your tracks. That was a good question for which you didn’t have a proper answer. “No, but it’s our best bet at figuring out what the hell is going on. And besides, the road there is way scarier than the place itself.”
“Whatever that means,” Johnny mumbled.
His reluctance made you frown. You understood his distaste, but this was entirely out of your hands. Your best bet at survival was by pairing together with the last walking members of your old unit and going over what you knew about this organization.
As long as you were still breathing, no one was going to hunt you like an animal and get away with it.
There were a couple hours of travel to make and Johnny was adamant that he would drive, even if he didn’t know the roads. You let him. It wasn’t like you were expecting a coup. When you said the road to the hotel was scarier than the place itself, you’d only meant putting up with all the dread and unease.
After driving endlessly, you finally pulled in front of a random building in the middle of essentially nowhere. You knew you were at the right place when you noticed how meager the place looked from the exterior. Nothing that would draw unwanted attention. It was the perfect hideout for criminals like yourself with a lot of blood on their hands.
“So, what’s the plan?” Johnny asked as you both carried your things to the door.
You kept yourself composed. “We’re going to walk in and get a room. Don’t say anything. I’m gonna find my boss.”
Johnny nodded, opening the lobby door and holding it for you as you strolled inside with your suitcase in tow. You thanked him and he followed you straight to the front desk where a woman was sitting there on the phone. She glanced up at you and mouthed, “One moment, please.”
While you waited, you glanced around the lobby, scrutinizing it with the intent to commit the entire layout to memory. There was standard hotel stuff, in spite of this being a getaway for lowlifes. A small lounge area with the television set on some sports channel. An even smaller spot for brewing coffee. There were more things down the hall beside the elevator.
The lack of other human presence didn’t concern you. Most wouldn’t hang out somewhere as open and vulnerable as the main lobby, and the wise few wouldn’t come out at all. You didn’t look for long. You didn’t need to. It was your job to be able to record a lot of information with little time and effort, and nothing seemed out of place, so far.
“Alright, sorry about that,” the receptionist said after a few minutes, putting the phone down. She glanced between you and Johnny. “Name and handler?”
You told her your name and gave her Doyoung’s, before gesturing towards Johnny and adding casually, “He’s with me.”
The receptionist glanced up at Johnny and nodded, documenting his name in addition to yours. “I’m going to need you to check in your weapons, please.”
Drawing your weapon from behind you, you signaled towards Johnny again and told her, “He’s not carrying.”
“That’s fine, but I still need you both to check your luggage through that door over there. It’s like the airport, only much simpler.”
The expression on Johnny’s face gave away the fact he clearly found the policy odd, but you both followed instructions and stepped through the security checkpoint one after another, not hearing a single beep.
But when the receptionist handed over your keycards, instructing you to head to the elevator on the right hand side of the room, Johnny crept close and whispered, “Never heard of criminals checking in their guns.”
You snickered. “I told you, the road here is scarier than the place itself. With a bunch of murderers in the same room, shit’s bound to get messy if we’re all packing. It’s the only thing that makes this place remotely safe.”
Johnny didn’t seem too convinced about the safety of this refuge. “You don’t need a gun to kill someone.”
“That’s true, but it makes things a lot easier,” you replied, pressing the second floor button. It was perfectly safe; not too close to the bottom floor, yet not too far away from the ground.
Johnny had no argument.
When you reached the second floor, you both stepped out, scanning the hallway for your room number. The walls were a murky shade of green, the paint chipping off and every decoration (which they barely had) looking as if it was on its last leg. The entire place appeared stale and in violent need of renovation, but something about it was strangely comforting.
You walked by one door and immediately got a strong whiff of marijuana. “Someone’s getting high as hell,” Johnny quipped.
“Could be worse,” you murmured.
The second you were in the room, you locked the door and secured the door chain, making sure no one could creep inside behind you. Then, you swung your luggage onto the bed and dug in your pockets for your phone, sending Doyoung a text to let him know that you had checked in and you were ready to meet.
“I’m guessing your former boss’ name is Doyoung,” Johnny said, given that was the name you had supplied to the receptionist earlier. “Is he here?”
“No idea,” you replied, brows stitched together. You had been expecting an instant response or phone call. “I thought he would be. I’ll give it twenty minutes before I get suspicious.”
Johnny had noticed a shift in you. You seemed somewhat more comfortable and at ease here than you ever did at the five-star hotels he’d stayed in with you or even the safe house you’d locked yourselves in only some hours before, and he wanted some kind of explanation. He knew you had your reasons for everything, but the idea didn’t make any sense to him whatsoever.
But he didn’t ask. Instead, he settled on the bed and flirted, “You know what I could do to you in twenty minutes?”
“Absolutely nothing,” you chirped, playing along. “Our foreplay lasts way longer than that.”
Johnny chortled, knowing it was true. A solid half of your foreplay didn’t even involve physical touch. Sometimes he got worked up simply from talking to you and listening to you speak your mind. “We can skip the talking,” he said, loosely grabbing your waist. “That’s my favorite part though.”
“Mine, too,” you agreed. “But frankly, I don’t trust these beds.”
Johnny laughed. Everything about this building made it seem like it hadn’t been touched in decades. “Well, let’s hope we’re not here for long.”
You wouldn’t be. Either you would come to danger, or danger would flock to you in large quantities. No matter what happened, your only hope was that you would be prepared. There was no hiding.
At first, ten minutes passed. Weird, but no big deal. Then an entire twenty went by and you were still snuggling up on Johnny, having not heard a single chime or ping. That was extremely out of the ordinary and you internally began to fret.
Retreating from Johnny’s arms ever so begrudgingly, you gave him a fleeting kiss on the lips and said, “I’m gonna go check things out. It’s really weird that he hasn’t called or texted me yet.”
There was a hint of reluctance in Johnny’s eyes, as if he didn’t want to let you go, but there was nothing he could do to keep you still. You were restless. “Be safe,” he told you, appreciating how the faint feeling of your kiss was lingering on his lips.
“You be safe too,” you replied with worry. It wasn’t like you wanted to leave Johnny alone, but you trusted that he could hold his own. “Keep the door locked at all times. The bolt and the chain.”
Johnny waved you off. “I know, I know. I’m not a kid, baby.”
“I just want to make sure you’re careful. I love you.” The words had already escaped your lips before you realized exactly what you were saying, but you couldn’t take it back. You blinked in surprise.
Johnny’s eyes widened vaguely, having not expected you to blurt out a confession of your love for him, but he was pleasantly surprised. “I know you do. I love you too.”
You nodded silently, feeling awkward. With one final glance and a pat on his shoulder, you waved goodbye and turned away.
There was something you had to get to the bottom of.
You stepped into the hallway. Doyoung was the type of human being you didn’t call unless it was an absolute emergency, as were you, so you had tried to keep your conversations strictly written only, but something about this situation was starting to give you unpleasant vibes. Calling you hours ago to order you here, but not being around himself, didn’t make any sense.
Not to mention Mark, who you hadn’t heard from since that less than ten-minute phone call you’d had when you landed. You wondered if he had even arrived in the States safely. The most important thing right now was figuring out if he and Doyoung were even still alive.
The thought struck fear into your very soul, but you tried not to let it consume you. There was a reason the lot of you had been assigned together to the same team, and that was because you had the means and the willpower to survive. You wouldn’t be taken down easily and neither would they. They were strong.
You felt borderline naked without your gun as you sauntered very quietly down the hallway of the second floor, but the knowledge that no one else had their weapons on them either provided you some easy reassurance. Plus you had something that not everyone else did. Your tenacity was your secret weapon.
With no other viable option, you gave in and dialed Doyoung’s number on the burner phone, hoping he would pick up after a few rings. The call immediately went to voicemail. You furrowed your brows and tried again, but he ultimately still didn’t answer.
Which made you moderately anxious.
Maybe he had to get another phone, you told yourself, which still didn’t make enough sense. Doyoung had a remarkable memory. Wouldn’t he still try to contact you?
This was officially beyond weird. This was venturing into the territory of all things dark and dangerous. You promptly dialed Mark’s number instead, hopeful to get a hold of him, but to no avail. Rather than go straight to voicemail like Doyoung’s phone, it went on and on.
Fuck, he switched phones, you remembered, thrusting yourself back into that phone call you’d had the other day. He had said something about how he was about to toss his phone and how you had good timing. Wherever it was, it wasn’t off or dead, but still of no use to either of you now.
That was the catch. You were meant to be elusive and completely untraceable, but it came to a disadvantage when even the people you needed most couldn’t reach you.
Having no idea what else to do, you turned around and headed back for your room to regroup, knowing you needed to mull over your next steps and the middle of a hallway was no place to do something like that. On the way, you paid close attention to the windows and any potential blind spots.
Upon unlocking the door, you were surprised it opened immediately without any need for asking Johnny to unhook the chain. Fuck’s sake, didn’t you tell him to lock it behind you?
“Johnny,” you called out in annoyance, shutting and bolting the door behind yourself as you walked inside. You had been expecting to find him pacing around somewhere or gazing out the window, but you didn’t see his tall body anywhere in the tiny room.
You narrowed your eyes and checked the bathroom, but it was entirely clear too. Johnny wasn’t here. Matter of fact, the only thing that indicated he was ever even here was his bag on the single bed.
Something like panic filled your chest and made your stomach tighten. Your brain immediately went to the worst case scenario. Did someone get to him in the five seconds you had turned your back? How in the hell did he sneak out of the hallway without you noticing?
You shook your head, willing yourself to calm down. Maybe he just went downstairs to get coffee or something. You knew he needed coffee like an addict needed crack. He would drink it at any given hour.
Solely to be safe, you quickly called his burner number, having saved it in case of situations like this. You were disappointed when it rang and rang with no answer, wondering what in the hell was happening. It had to be on his person. You would have heard it otherwise.
You groaned and stepped back into the green corridor, confused as all hell. Your very first thought was the elevator. The only reasonable idea you could conceivably imagine in the midst of all this bewilderment was to return to the main floor and see if the receptionist could clue you in on any significant information.
It felt like you had been standing in front of the elevator for ages before it finally drew back its doors with a chime and allowed you to enter. You pressed the lobby button and waited patiently for it to descend down to the main floor.
The trip took a long minute. Though it was only two floors down, the elevator didn’t seem to be in the same rush you were in, which was more than a little frustrating. Every second you went without answers was another second you couldn’t bring yourself to relax.
You breathed in a short-lived relief as the doors opened again and you walked onto the main floor, straight for the lobby. The sight in front of you only made you blink.
The receptionist was very dead, slumped forward onto the front desk. You could see the wound that had done her in, one shot to the back of her neck. The exact same way Doyoung said Margo had been killed. The exact same pattern you had studied in that unit so many years back.
You shuddered. They were here. Your initial instinct was to charge into the inventory behind the front desk where the receptionist had checked in all of the weapons, but the shock on your face when you realized the entire inventory had been cleared out was priceless.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” you said aloud in total disbelief. Not only did that mean that you were unarmed, but at least one person here had access to several different weapons.
And you had no idea where Johnny was, or literally anybody else for that matter.
Paranoid as ever, you frantically called Johnny’s number again, mumbling under your breath for him to pick up the damn phone. Your blood was pumping belligerently in your veins and you were seconds away from losing your ability to think altogether.
A noise echoed from behind you, making you snap around. You heard a ringing sound from the lounge area of the lobby, but no one was there. You did notice, however, the familiar phone on one of the coffee tables.
Johnny’s phone was here. Which meant that at some point, he had been here as well. And he possibly knew what had happened with the receptionist.
Your brain was starting to hurt, spiraling with all the different possibilities of what had happened and what was to come. There was only one thing you knew for certain, and that was that your trust in Johnny was steadily beginning to wane. There was no longer a strong faith in his seemingly normal, picture perfect life. With every second that passed without knowing where he was, it dwindled more and more.
An idea popped into your head and you stepped around the desk, skillfully maneuvering around the dead body to briefly scan today’s log for any relevant information. You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it sooner. If any of your colleagues had checked in, their names would be on the paper.
You grinned triumphantly when you saw two familiar names, Mark and Doyoung. They had both checked in this morning, hours apart, with Doyoung logically getting here first and Mark some time afterwards. So they were here. The only thing that didn’t make sense was why you hadn’t heard a peep from either of them since your last exchanges over the phone.
At the very least, you knew you had to keep moving. You were a walking target the longer you stayed in place. There had to be a way to figure out where they were without risking your life in the process. It may have felt like it, but you weren’t the only one in the building.
Making a beeline for the elevator, you tried to create some semblance of a plan. Given the other one was out of order, it was the only functioning elevator connecting the four total floors, which made it a dangerous spot for anyone trying to travel. And seemingly so far, no one else had been brave enough.
That, or they took the stairs. Either way, you had to be cautious. You saw the way the receptionist had been killed - quick, efficient, and more importantly, quiet. Gone within a blink. There were people here who wanted you dead, likely staking out every available exit, and you had to be both stronger and smarter than them if you wanted a shot at survival.
The very second you were back in the room, you chained the door shut behind yourself. It felt like you were walking in circles. Your body was hyper aware of the danger it was involved in, burning with the urge to pace around, but you didn’t want to make excessive noise or draw any unwanted attention to yourself with movement.
You did, however, approach the closet in search of something that could be used as a makeshift weapon, knowing that you inevitably would have to go back out. You stilled when one of the floorboards creaked beneath your weight. At first, it was out of fear of making too much noise. Then, you realized there was something unusual about the panel.
It was loose, as if it had been removed and then placed back improperly. With your experience in the industry, you knew it was very common for proxies to leave tools in place for their allies to use. You weren’t at all surprised to find something like this in the hotel.
Getting down on your knees, you scanned the room for something to facilitate pulling up the panel, grabbing the closest object of assistance and digging up whatever the hell was clearly underneath the wooden plank.
It was a gun.
You beamed, victorious. Upon checking the chamber, you found it was fully loaded. Meaning you had all the ammunition in the world in comparison to most people here, assuming those stolen guns in the inventory had fallen into the hands of one person and not many.
Well, that changed things. For one, you no longer had to confine yourself to this room for half of eternity. You would obviously still need to be extremely cautious, but now you had a means of defending yourself. And for two, it would be easier to find your former teammates, and get rid of anyone who stood in your way.
With a sigh, you nodded to yourself, standing up. You tried to think of a tentative plan. For starters, you had to find Doyoung. He would have answers, he always did. And where in the hell had Johnny run off to?
Back in the hallway, it didn’t take long for you to get your answer.
Johnny was by the elevator, stained in blood.
You rooted in place as if you had crossed paths with a wild bear. For a second, you couldn’t even feel yourself breathe. Your heart all but stopped. And when Johnny finally turned and saw you, standing there in total shock, the emotion on his face was completely unreadable.
There was a dry lump in your throat that you tried to dampen by swallowing. Who’s fucking blood was that?
Then, it hit you.
“Did you kill the receptionist?” you asked, blurting out the question the moment it entered your mind.
Johnny had the audacity to blink in surprise, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. Which you didn’t believe for a second. “No, of course not.”
“I don’t believe you,” you snapped. “You disappeared when I told you to stay inside. I called your phone. You weren’t in the lobby, but it was. Don’t expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this.”
In an attempt to be consoling, Johnny reached out to hold you like he had always done when he tried to reassure you calmly, gingerly calling out your name before responding, “Baby, I know what it looks like, but…”
You instinctively whipped out the gun you had found, pointing it at him in a heartbeat as you stepped away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you warned, threatening. Your true colors were showing. The side of you that you never let him see. “I swear to God, I will shoot you.”
Johnny backed up, putting his hands up in innocence, as if he had nothing wrong. He looked surprised, likely not expecting you to be armed, whereas it didn’t seem like he was packing. Right now. “It looks like my cat’s out of the bag. I might as well come clean.”
Your heart was trembling, but your mind was trying to cling onto some leftover strength. She wasn’t a quitter. “You knew. You knew ever since we got that laced letter.”
“There was no laced letter,” Johnny replied, indifferent.
Your eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that?”
“Because I’m the one that sent it to us.”
You didn’t think it was possible for you to go any more still than you already had, but now you were as rigid as a corpse, standing there in a kind of disbelief stronger than the agony of a bullet tearing through flesh. “Who are you?” you asked stiffly.
Johnny smirked, as if he was proud of himself for having deceived you all this time. “Take a wild guess.”
“You’re his gun,” you said, hands trembling as you grasped the weapon in your hands. All this time, your kryptonite had been hiding in plain sight. You had shown affection to the enemy, held him, made love to him. Slept beside him at night with all the trust your wounded self could muster.
“I consider myself his poison,” Johnny retorted.
You gawked. The gears were turning in your head, the gears that should have turned a long time ago, but you were too love blind to see it. “Your function,” you gasped. “You’re the poisoner. You’re Toxic.”
“Ding. Ding. Ding. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure me out. They said you were the best of the best, you know. I guess that was before I got to you,” Johnny replied, grinning from ear to ear. He sighed, content. Then, he patted himself on the back, and quipped, “Good going, Johnny.”
“Is this a fucking joke to you?” you asked viciously, clearly having none of it.
“Maybe just a little bit, yeah,” Johnny admitted, chuckling faintly. “I mean, you have to admit I got you good. Rich American guy who loves traveling but never talks in detail about his job. I mean, I thought it would be too convenient, but you never asked any questions.”
Because I didn’t want you asking any questions about mine, you thought, but the words wouldn’t come. You were too stunned to speak. He had you completely fooled.
“You’re a bastard,” you sneered.
Rather than be offended, Johnny laughed in amusement. “How are we any different? You had your secrets too.”
“I told you what I was when shit hit the fan,” you replied, although you knew it would be impossible to justify your half of it. You were just so sick of who you used to be and you didn’t want to risk losing what you had now.
“Yeah, after shit hit the fan,” Johnny said, making a valid point. “Do you know how easy it would have been for me to take your life? God knows I’ve had ample opportunity. And yet you’re still here. Do you wanna know why?”
“Because you want to savor this to the last breath,” you replied, guarded.
“Because I’m in love with you. Tragically. Fatally. Dangerously.”
You would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to believe him, to crawl into his bloody arms and let him hold you as if you meant something to him. But now you knew what he was. He was exactly like you, if not worse. And you were no stranger to telling a fib if the job required it.
“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” you argued, willing yourself to be strong. “Where’s Doyoung?”
Johnny wanted to touch you. Where words had failed, he knew his body could win you over, but something told him it wasn’t the best call to make right now. He sobered. “I have no idea, but you need to stay away from him. He’s not what you think he is.”
Your skepticism only heightened. “What do you know about him?”
Johnny was holding back, his hands still above his head. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you. “He’s dangerous. This whole trip is a scheme to kill you and your friends. He wanted to pry you out of hiding.”
“But you went along with it without saying a thing,” you reminded, doubtful. “How is that any better?”
Johnny sighed. “I had to. It’s the only way.”
“The only way to do what?”
“To get rid of him.”
“Get rid of him for what?”
“He’s the Emperor, baby.”
You shook your head in denial. For one, that didn’t make any sense. Doyoung was the same person you had spent years of your life hunting? Impossible. You saw the grief on his face that night your other teammates had been killed like lambs to the slaughter.
The idea that he was another evil, however, did explain his absence now that you were finally in the kill zone. You still weren’t entirely adamant on trusting Johnny though. Fuck’s sake, he was covered in blood right now. And you didn’t want to know why.
“You’re lying,” you sneered, pressing the button to summon the elevator. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand next to him. It was too goddamn overwhelming.
“I can see why you think that,” Johnny replied softly, having suddenly turned serious. Like he was trying to prove his innocence somehow, even if he was stained in the evidence of what he truly was. “But I promise I’m not.”
You scoffed. If only life was so simple, where promises were inherently something of substance. “Your word means nothing to me right now. You’re a killer,” you said, tightening your grip on the firearm in your hand.
“I’ve been a killer long before we met. So have you,” Johnny reminded, his voice becoming slightly sharper. “And you know what? I’ve never lied to you. I’ve just kept you away from the whole truth.”
You raised your voice, asking, “How do I know that?”
That tone was something Johnny had never heard from you before, and in a way nothing else ever had, it startled him; it showed him how close he was to losing you. “Don’t you trust me?”
You didn’t even grant that a response. You felt completely and utterly betrayed, even if a part of you didn’t think you had any right to be. It felt like a direct affront to your character that he even asked you something like that. You had trusted him, and look what that had gotten you. Where it had gotten you.
“I’m going to leave this floor,” you replied, gesturing towards the elevator. “And you’re going to make yourself useful, or die trying.”
Johnny looked at you, more so the gun in your hands, eyes flickering in surprise. “You’re leaving? What? No. You can’t do that.”
“Watch me,” you whispered, stepping backwards into the elevator. The whole time, your eyes were trained on Johnny and so was your weapon, making it abundantly clear that you were armed, capable, and very, very dangerous.
Death didn’t discriminate, after all. Why should you?
Not daring to move as much as an inch, Johnny watched the elevator door close, stealing you away from him and carrying you to God knows where. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, heart thudding violently.
Once in the elevator, you relaxed, but even that was short-lived. You jolted when your phone began to ring and you were shocked when you read the number, recognizing it immediately. You put the phone to your ear and answered, “Jesus, Doyoung. Where the hell are you?”
In typical Doyoung fashion, he didn’t waste any time on explanations, whispering, “Listen to me. Johnny’s lost it. I watched him shoot the receptionist with my own eyes.”
Your brows furrowed. You had mentioned Johnny to Doyoung before, but only vaguely. Not once did you ever reveal his identity. “How do you know his name?”
“How do you think?” Doyoung asked, suggesting it was obvious. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I had to make sure you were safe, that you weren’t falling into the same trap as the others.”
“And what did you conclude?”
With seemingly no intention to be very forward for once in his life, Doyoung continued, “I was suspicious. His record was squeaky clean, too clean, so I kept digging. I didn’t find a damn thing, but I knew I was right to be suspicious when I saw him shoot the receptionist with no mercy.”
You shook your head, thinking it over. Missing inventory aside, whoever killed the receptionist had to have access to a gun, but they had all been checked in upon entrance. And you knew Johnny wasn’t carrying one, because the machine would have dinged if he was.
Though that didn’t mean there weren’t any other weapons in the building whatsoever. You were sure there was some way to sneak them inside and plant them for others to get a hold of. Hell, that was the only reason you had one now.
To say nothing of the fact that he was literally stained in blood. That was the entire reason you had suspected him in the first place. The only problem was that now that you thought about it, he couldn’t have been armed. You saw the look on his face when you left and it couldn’t just have been because he didn’t want you to go.
It was because you had something valuable.
Another conflicting part of the story was that Doyoung talked about Johnny as if they had never met before, but Johnny himself had told you he was the Emperor. Which, if true, meant Doyoung was his boss. So, one of them was lying.
Stepping out of the elevator onto the bottom floor, you stealthily paced the corridors with the gun in your clasp and the phone to your ear, whispering, “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
“I meant to, I really did, but after I checked in, all this crazy stuff started happening, and…,” Doyoung trailed off, confusing you. Until he added, “You have a gun?”
That voice didn’t only come from your phone; it came from behind. You whipped around in a blink, noticing Doyoung standing a few feet away, eyes widened in surprise.
You hung up. You hadn’t seen Doyoung in person in years. He hardly looked any different. He still had deep, dark hair and that stern, chiseled face. And he still had this commanding aura to him that had made him so efficient as your leader.
But you weren’t so confident about him anymore. Not after the interaction you’d just had. Johnny had planted doubts in your mind, even if you didn’t trust him either. You figured it was in your best interest to assume everyone was dangerous and a threat until proven otherwise.
“I found it in one of the rooms,” you replied casually, but you stiffened as he stepped closer to you. “Why?”
Doyoung looked more alarmed than you had seen him since that godawful night so long ago. He whispered, “You need to give it to me. I think Johnny’s the Emperor.”
“What?”
“Why else would he kill the receptionist?” Doyoung asked, frantic. “I know you like him, maybe you love him, but this is important. We have to kill him before he kills us.”
You heard heavy footsteps coming from the staircase at the end of the hallway and drew your gun in preparation, but you were surprised to see that it was Johnny. And he looked equally as stunned to see you standing there next to Doyoung.
“Stay away from her, Johnny,” Doyoung spoke up, getting the first word in. He stood in front of you, as if he was defending you.
“Whatever he’s been telling you, he’s lying,” Johnny told you hurriedly, panting for breath. “You can’t trust him. I told you, he’s the Emperor.”
Doyoung looked offended. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the Emperor. You planned all of this to isolate us and get us alone, didn’t you?”
Johnny raised his voice, insisting, “Don’t listen to him, he’s lying. I told you who I am. Think about it, baby. Why would he bring you here and make it easier for you to die?”
Doyoung matched his energy and snapped, “I brought us here so we can decide collectively on a course of action. We’re stronger together than we are alone.”
Ignoring him, Johnny focused on you entirely and reasoned, “You’re more vulnerable together and you know it. You said it yourself that you’re being hunted down to the last man. Why go out of the way to assassinate you when he could just lead you into a death trap?”
“That’s not true,” Doyoung hissed.
Johnny called out your name, shifting around Doyoung to make eye contact with you. He could see how your trembling hands clasped the weapon like it was your only lifeline. “Please. I’d never hurt you, you have to trust me on that. Give me the gun.”
Rolling his eyes, Doyoung said, “Come on. You’ve known me for years. Give me the gun and we can walk out of here and go home.”
Something inside you burned furiously. You didn’t have a home. You’d considered home to be wherever Johnny was, but even that had fallen through. And you knew that if you walked out of here without him, you would have nothing left except the shadow of what you used to be. You had nothing left to lose.
When you told Johnny that you were on the run, he had said, That’s like running from your shadow. And now more than ever, you realized he was right. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself anymore. You needed to end the fight once and for all so that you could finally know peace instead of transience.
“Enough!” you screamed, pointing the gun back and forth between both men. They startled, your raising voice making them still. “You can both go to hell.”
With that, you took off, sprinting up the stairs and hoping to lose them before they could even attempt to catch up with you. That was one of the many, many pitfalls of being a woman in a male-dominated world. You had to compensate somehow, and what you lacked in strength, you made up for in speed and wit.
You just hoped it would be enough to save you.
There were footsteps behind you. You couldn’t see them when you turned, but you never stopped moving. The only thing you knew was that you had to think of a way to get out of here, but going outside was far too risky. You didn’t know what was waiting for you out there nor were you even remotely curious.
You cut down to the other staircase on the right hand side of the hallway, hoping to outsmart them. There were only a handful of floors, but there had to be some way to buy yourself more time to think. They wouldn’t expect you to go back down, would they?
When you made it safely to the bottom floor, you checked both ways like a child crossing the street before circling back to the main lobby. It was strangely empty. You wondered if anyone was here other than the three of you. Mark crossed your mind and a palpable fear began pumping through your veins.
He had signed in. You knew that much. Walking down the corridor you had clocked upon entrance, you made a beeline for the bar, knowing no one would expect to find you there of all locations. But to be safe, you locked the door and released a shaky sigh.
Your head was spinning. Your mind was scattered. Someone had emptied out the inventory, but neither Johnny nor Doyoung clearly had weapons of any kind. So who in the hell stole all the guns?
A sudden sound jolted you out of your mental headache. Your first thought was the door you’d locked, but no one was there. Then, you heard it again. It was a thud, coming from behind the door, as if there was something behind it that couldn’t get free. Like a trapped bird throwing itself against its cage.
Your heart was thumping in your chest as you approached the storage room, wielding your weapon. You heard the thud again; it sounded like a kick, followed by muffled noises. There was someone back there. You felt a sudden chill sweep over your shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, you counted to three under your breath before you yanked at the knob, throwing the door open.
Mark fell over, having been leaning on the door, and dropped to his side.
“Mark,” you gasped, recognizing him in a heartbeat. He was familiar to you, even in this disheveled state.
He said something, eyes wide as he glanced at you, but you couldn’t make it out. There was tape over his mouth.
You sat him up, crouching down onto your knees. After you had gotten him upright, you looked into his eyes and warned, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry.”
With no further warning, you ripped the tape straight off in one clean jerk.
Mark recoiled in pain. “Goddamn!”
You winced, as if you were the one hurting. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Mark replied, exhaling a breath of relief. He looked like he was simply happy that you had found him and he didn’t die in that storage room, which you understood. You could finally relax knowing he was physically okay.
As you cautiously undid the tape binding his arms and legs, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, you asked, “Who the hell did this to you?”
Mark shrugged. He looked like he had been through hell and back without taking absolutely any detours. His skin was damp with sweat you could feel through his clothes. There was a faint patch of blood on his skin and you assumed he’d been attacked. “I don’t know.”
Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“They came up from behind me while I was walking in the hallway,” Mark explained, stretching his limbs now that they were free. “I never saw their face. And when I came to, I was tied up in the closet.”
That only confused you even more. Obviously, there was something they didn’t want Mark to interfere with, but a bullet to the head seemed like a much more practical solution than tying him up and hiding his body. “Well, they didn’t kill you,” you pointed out.
Mark nodded, sighing. “Yeah, but why?”
You sighed too. Like hell you knew. You had been expecting more bodies, more casualties. There no was no doubt you were grateful Mark wasn’t dead, but it still threw you off. “You were right.”
“Of course, I was,” Mark chirped, even though he had know idea what you were going on about. “So, what was I right about?”
“Johnny,” you told him quietly, almost like you were ashamed. Maybe you were. “He’s not what I thought he was. He’s one of us. And I was his sub.”
Mark gawked. A part of him had seen it like that coming, but it wasn’t like he had happily anticipated it. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
You tangled your hand through your hair, because now you were thinking about it and it was breaking your heart all over again. You had fallen six feet under for his deceit. The man you loved and thought you knew was just another proxy that had been contracted to take you out. Only this time, he had actually gotten close.
“It gets worse,” you replied, forcing yourself to remember everything that had gone down in the past hour. “He claims to be Toxic. And he says that Doyoung is the Emperor.”
The first part seemed to surprise Mark more than the second and his brows knitted. “Wait, they sent Toxic after you instead of Backstabber? Why? I thought his function was just to poison people and leave. You guys have been together for months.”
“Why would he lie?”
Mark shrugged. “Maybe he’s the Emperor.”
You could literally feel your bones chilling. That was what Doyoung had said, and now Mark seemed to believe it too. You didn’t know what to think. “Johnny says Doyoung is the Emperor, but Doyoung says it’s Johnny. I don’t know who to trust.”
Marked mulled it over. There was a lot of catching up to do, all things considered. He shook his head, frowning. “What is your gut telling you?”
“I don’t know,” you whispered. You couldn’t even trust your instincts anymore, even after relying on them your whole life. Johnny had told you to trust your gut and kick everything else to the curb. But how could you when you didn’t know what it was trying to say?
You had learned to bridle it, but it never completely stopped. It became a whisper instead of a scream. And now there was a dull echo.
“Come on,” Mark encouraged, grasping your shoulders. “Think. Forget everything you feel right now just for a second and think. You were in a unit with Doyoung for a year and you’ve spent the past however many months practically glued to Johnny’s hip. What did they say? How did they say it?”
You blinked. “Mark, I can’t.”
Mark shook his head. “Yes, you can. I know you want to move on from this life, but you never will if we can’t make it out of there. We need the clever assassin. Let her come out one last time and then kill her.”
You sucked in a breath, willing yourself to get back in shape. The clever assassin. The lethal proxy. The woman you thought was dead and buried. Now more than ever, you needed her back. One last time. “Someone shot the front desk lady. Uh, close range like Margo. Johnny was covered in blood. I thought it was him at first. Doyoung said he saw him shoot her with no mercy.”
“You said at first,” Mark pointed out. “Do you not think so anymore?”
You were reluctant for a minute, but you finally said, “They don’t have guns. They were both trying to convince me to give them mine, but I told them to fuck off.”
Mark was surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Someone took all of the guns from the inventory, but I don’t know where they are, and they both looked desperate for a weapon. Which means someone else is here too. But Johnny couldn’t have shot the receptionist if he didn’t have the means.”
“So, Doyoung lied,” Mark concluded.
You shrugged. It seemed like the whole room was reeling at this point. “I guess so.”
Mark mumbled something under his breath, likely in shock as he processed the new information. “Then, the only question left is what are they so scared of?”
“Or who,” you replied quietly.
Mark stood up. The solution seemed obvious to him. “We gotta go.”
Your eyes followed him. “And do what? We need a plan if we’re going to go out in the open.”
Mark shook his head. “Are you serious? Doyoung is guilty as all hell. And that means he probably killed my sister. You have a gun. Let’s go put a bullet in his head and get the hell out of this dump.”
“Wait, Mark,” you replied, standing up and grabbing his arm. “Let’s just think about this for a little longer.”
“What’s left to think about?” Mark asked grimly.
“Let’s say Johnny is telling the truth. He’s Toxic and Doyoung is the Emperor,” you started, lowering your reach to his hands. “That means they’re trying to kill each other even though they work together. Why?”
Mark shrugged his shoulders again. “No idea. What did Johnny tell you?”
You thought about that interaction you’d had with Johnny on the second floor, where he’d confessed to being complicit in the nightmare you were currently living. “He said that this trip was the only way to kill Doyoung, but I don’t get why he would want to kill his boss.”
“I do,” Mark replied. “Think about it. You’re Johnny’s sub. The cold case excluded, when has it ever taken you months to kill someone?”
Your lips were in a line. You didn’t want to entertain the idea that Johnny genuinely cared about you, because you didn’t want to be wrong. But he said it himself he had ample opportunity to leave you for dead. He never did.
“Never.”
“Exactly,” Mark said. “He’s obviously stalling. If Doyoung is his direct boss and he’s been assigned to help pick us all off for being in that unit, he’s not gonna wanna go through with killing you, especially if he really loves you.”
You chewed that over. There was something about your affection for Johnny that triggered your fight or flight instincts in a way you’d never experienced before. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it was suffocating.
“It’s your call,” Mark told you, patting you on the shoulder. “We can always kill them both if that makes you happier.”
You laughed for the first time in a long time, but you knew that wasn’t what you wanted. You were just so scared. Fear was one of the most natural human emotions and yet you were so ashamed to be afraid. It made you feel out of control. “No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I think I know what I need to do.”
“Then, let’s go,” Mark said, waving you forward with his hand.
With one final breath, you nodded and silently followed Mark out of the bar through the double doors. You hoped you were making the right decision. This was beyond life or death. You weren’t afraid to die. You were afraid of dying alone.
When in the hallway, there was a light in one of the rooms on the right side. You and Mark exchanged glances, noticing that the door was ajar. It looked like a laundry room, likely connecting to a sauna or pool. There were a bunch of white towels stacked on top of each other from what you could see.
“You go ahead. I’m gonna check this out,” Mark told you, distracted.
You narrowed your eyes. Did he seriously think you were going to leave him alone? He’d just barely survived being thrown into a closet to rot like an animal. “Mark, no. You don’t have a weapon. Come on, it’s just a closet.”
As if he didn’t hear a word you said, Mark walked off. “Five minutes.”
You shook your head in disbelief, but there was no opportunity to argue, because he had already disappeared.
“Unbelievable,” you mumbled under your breath, disgruntled. That boy had a death wish. You were practically certain of it now. What had he seen that made him want to investigate instead of minding his own business? A ghost?
The more you walked into the lobby, the less confident you were beginning to feel. You couldn’t afford to be wrong. Even if you weren’t afraid of death, there were more lives at stake than just your own. You had Mark to take care of, even if he was perfectly capable of defending himself, and you had honor.
It was everything in your world. You may not have been on a team anymore, but if there was anything the league did teach you other than how to be a lethal, unstoppable bullet no one would ever see coming, it was that you didn’t leave your family to die. And it was a principle you still followed despite your reproach for the network.
With how you had grown up, taken under the wing of a hawk to become an even deadlier hawk, you knew there was no one you could really trust. Hardly even yourself.
But you also knew that living life with no one really, truly by your side was lonely.
You didn’t even need to look for Johnny. He was creeping down the hallway with quick, soundless steps, totally not looking suspicious. When his eyes locked on you, he went rigidly still.
“Johnny,” you called out faintly.
Johnny put his index finger up to his lip, shushing you, and approached you ever so slightly. With the gun in your grip and your evident distrust of him, he wasn’t taking any chances. His voice was light as a feather as he said your name. “I know I had you under the impression that I was some oasis away from this world and I apologize. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever.”
The sudden apology had you taken aback, even though you tried to stay on guard. It was hard when you were around Johnny. Your body was so used to being at ease when you were with him, not registering him as a threat. “You never hurt me.”
“I never hurt you,” Johnny repeated, knowing what you’d meant by that. He had never physically caused you any pain - not more than you’d bargained for, at least. “And I hope you can believe me when I say that I never plan to. If nothing else is, my feelings for you are real. The thought of hurting you alone makes me angry.”
You silently took his words in. They sounded so genuine, so affectionate. You were good at recognizing lies when you heard them, but it was clear by now that you were a little weak in that regard when you were blinded by emotion. Your judgment was clouded.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder and continued, “That’s why I have to do this. That’s why I have to kill Doyoung. He knows that I won’t go through with the order and he won’t rest until one of us is dead.”
“That’s why you want the gun,” you replied, realizing Mark had been right. Johnny cared about you too much to let you die.
Johnny looked over his shoulder again, like he was being watched. Or followed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was trying to stay clear of his boss. “Give me the gun and I can end this. We can meet my mom. We can go any place in the goddamn world. We can settle down if that’s what you want.”
Footsteps echoed in the halls. They weren’t coming from behind you, so you knew it wasn’t Mark. It was someone else.
“Please,” Johnny replied, surprising you. You’d never heard him beg for a damn thing in the entire time you’d known him.
You swallowed, weighing your options. There weren’t many. Either you gave him the gun or you kept it for yourself. You just couldn’t understand why he was so adamant on having it, if not to turn it on you at some point. “Why do you need the gun? Why can’t I do it?” you asked quietly.
“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”
Your heart thumped with an intense, deep tremor. Those words were weirdly sentimental to you in a way that was inexplicable. He was willing to take the blame so that you wouldn’t have a mark on your back. You believed him. If Doyoung was the Emperor, that made him one of the most influential figures in the underground. His death would send shock waves through the league and likely even through the public.
The syndicate would have its revenge. No one would take out its Emperor and not be penalized accordingly for it, but you thought about it some more. Not only would the lack of power weaken them, but there was a way to take advantage of the situation at hand.
So you gave Johnny the gun, holding your breath. He accepted it.
The footsteps drew closer, louder. Johnny pulled you behind him and whipped around.
It all happened in a blink.
A gunshot echoed out. Your ears rang from the loud noise and you shuddered, only vaguely remembering the last time you had heard something so deadly. You thought you would be numb. It used to feel like nothing. Right now, however, staring down at where the bullet had pierced Doyoung squarely between the eyes, the feeling in your chest teetered toward relief.
“Damn,” Johnny replied, handing you back the gun. “I’m still a damn good shot. What can’t I do?”
It took you a second, but you managed a laugh. The sight was surreal, but something told you that you’d made the right choice.
Johnny rubbed his temple. He was clearly relieved too. “Alright, trivia time. You were in a unit for a year tasked with knowing everything about us. What do you know about me?”
“Uh, you’ve been dealing with poison for at least a decade. You’re the best poison specialist in the league and you learned in America, but you do dirty business with chemists all over the globe so that there’s less of a trail, which has made you a super pain in the ass,” you replied, reciting everything you knew from memory.
The longer you thought about it, the more sense it made. Johnny had been hiding in plain sight this entire time and you’d had no idea. The thought made you somewhat uneasy, but you also had to admit that you were impressed.
“You’re forgetting the part where I’m his right hand.”
You gawked. “You’re what?”
Johnny chuckled, glancing at Doyoung’s lifeless corpse with no remorse. “Well, I was two minutes ago, that is. I’m the Emperor now.”
Now that was a surprise. You knew their functions, but you had never understood the exact hierarchy system in the syndicate. “Johnny, what the...”
Johnny looked more than enthusiastic to explain, but his gaze quickly became distracted. By the time you caught the flicker of motion that had stolen his attention, it was too late.
You tensed when you heard another gunshot rang out in the hallway. You and Johnny instinctively both clung to each other, shuddering with the same fear.
Sol slumped to the ground as quickly as he’d moved.
Mark stepped forward, panting. He pushed his hair out of his face, lowering the weapon he’d somehow gotten ahold of. “Found the guns,” he announced, scratching his head.
You sighed in relief, but your eyes were wide with confusion. Sol must have stolen them, not that that made any sense whatsoever. “I thought he was dead?”
“That’s what Doyoung told me,” Mark said, glancing between the two very dead, bleeding bodies on the floor. “Damn, that’s a clean shot.”
“Thank you,” Johnny chirped, simpering.
You shook your head, emptying the chamber of the gun you were holding and handing it over to Johnny. “Get this damn thing away from me.”
The grin on Johnny’s face turned upside down when he heard your tone. “Hey, it’s done. It’s over.”
Mark smiled, watching you both from afar. There was a bittersweet feeling in his heart at the thought of what he’d lost and the sight of what you’d gained. “It’s over,” he echoed.
You nodded, holding onto Johnny like you would die without him. Though you still couldn’t help but notice he was still covered in blood. “So why are you wearing blood if you didn’t kill the lady at the front desk?”
“I got into a little fight with that guy. I had no idea you knew him,” Johnny replied, lifting his shirt and revealing a bloody gash.
You gawked. “You got stabbed?”
Johnny laughed. “You didn’t notice, right?”
“You have a pain tolerance even a masochist would bitch about,” you said, shaking your head. “I should have known. You have all those tattoos.”
“Never trust a guy with tattoos,” Johnny said jokingly.
You snickered. “No, absolutely never.”
Mark seemed to have finally caught his breath. “Hey, Johnny guy. So, there’s not a team of snipers sitting outside this place?”
Johnny shook his head. “Nah. Doyoung really had it out for you guys, wanted to kill you himself.”
Mark sighed. “Where does Sol fit in all this? Doyoung said he was poisoned.”
Johnny shrugged. “Doyoung’s lied to you guys a lot, even all those years ago. He was planting fake clues to lead you guys astray, but you were still getting closer than he thought you would. So he threw in the towel.”
Hearing that made you frown. You’d looked up to Doyoung, admired him even. You hated that things had to end this way. “So is Margo really dead?”
“Who? That girl in your unit you were talking about on the plane?” Johnny asked. “I don’t know.”
Mark’s face fell.
Your heart ached. Untangling yourself from Johnny’s arms, you walked over to Mark and pulled him in for a hug. “Go,” you whispered. “Look for her.”
“I have a better idea,” Johnny said. “If we get somewhere with better service, I can ask my team. If she’s dead, one of them probably know. Doyoung hasn’t been telling me stuff anymore for obvious reasons.”
Mark glanced at Johnny from over your shoulder. “You’re serious, dude? You’d do that?”
“A friend of the woman I love is a friend of mine. I can do a small favor. I have to let them know Doyoung’s dead anyway.”
Your heart warmed, but a question lingered over your head as you released Mark, and you asked, “But won’t they bark when they find out you killed him?”
Johnny’s shoulders shook as he laughed. There was a very, very tiny possibility, but that was why he took the kill. “Who said they had to find out? Dead men tell no tales.”
It was your turn to laugh. No one ever had to know. You could keep a secret, especially if it meant you’d be free from this hell. “I guess that’s true,” you replied, nodding. “Dead men tell no tales.”
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Rahu & Ketu: Abuse & Addiction
TW: drug overdose, death, suicide, abuse, childhood abuse
Nodal influence can be very destabilising and intoxicating. They're opposites but as they say the extremes of anything is a meeting point for it's opposite, so Rahu & Ketu share many similarities.
Rahu & Ketu are both shadow planets, Rahu is the head whereas Ketu is the tail. This in itself reveals much about the nature of the two. Rahu is over immersed in the world whereas Ketu is completely cut off from it.
When I say Rahu is over immersed/over stimulated, I don't mean they're profoundly connected to reality, I mean the opposite, they're deeply immersed in Maya/illusion that they often have no sense of reality. Rahu is the head, imagine if you lived in your head all the time? You'd be in your own la la land, disconnected from what is actually happening around you. This is Rahu energy. Without your body, you cannot use your senses, you cannot fully feel alive or experience reality. Rahu being the head means you're cut off from what is "real". You only live in your head and what happens in your head is very subjective and completely illusory.
They are so deeply immersed in an illusory world. This can manifest as substance addiction, video gaming, fame, material success, internet addiction, overly obsessed with "binging" content, maladaptive daydreaming etc, any experience that disconnects you from what is "real" and immerses you in something that feels very real but isn't real. Both Rahu and Ketu people suffer from addiction, Claire had mentioned that Nodal influence can make someone prone to addiction but why Rahu and Ketu are addicted tend to be very different. Rahu is overstimulated, they always need more of everything. There are people who spend 10 hours a day just watching YouTube videos or IG reels or whatever, that's because they need that much stimulation, since they live in their heads. Their minds need that kind of fodder to thrive off of. Once you start using any kind of substance, your brain builds a tolerance for it and you have to start using higher and higher doses to get the same high. When a Rahu native accumulates wealth, they start indulging in it but nothing is ever enough. They never feel "full", they don't have that fuse in their brain that flares up and says "this is enough". Basically they never know when to stop, they just keep going and going and going with anything they immerse themselves in. People play video games for 3-4 days straight without leaving their game set up. They don't ever feel satisfied. This is scary because "feeling full" is our brain's way of asking us to stop. Without that mechanism, we would overindulge and overdo everything which is what these natives do.
This is also why relationships are so tricky for Nodal people. They give too much and immerse themselves to the point where it's detrimental to the relationship. You either feel like you're losing part of yourself to it or the other person feels like you're consuming their energy too much (which makes them feel drained). Moderation does not exist for Nodal people either they're completely detached or they're completely obsessed.
Its similar to Jupiter energy in the sense that Jupiter is also very expansive and has the ability to immerse itself in everything and give so much but Jupiter has other principles that firmly ground it in reality as it is not a shadow planet like Rahu. It is not suspended in an illusion, Jupiter natives give so much or do so much because they have the internal space to do so, not out of a tendency to immerse themselves in Maya/illusion. Jupiter is the opposite, they see through Maya and find it hard to consciously part take in it.
Taylor Swift- Ardra Moon
She works harder than anybody in the biz. Her concerts are like 3 hours long and she does like 40-50 shows on average. She's ALWAYS doing THE most. She releases a new album every 2 years or so, has other projects etc this is a positive manifestation of Rahu energy because it allows you to be deeply immersed in your craft and your world but it also means you live in a bubble and you are cut off from "real life".
Ketu is the tail, it is cut off from reality and feels profoundly disconnected to reality. It is hard for these natives to feel like they relate to anything. This is why Ketuvians struggle with addiction. They use substances because they want to feel something, want to feel tethered, want to feel connected. They have to use higher doses because it helps them feel heightened emotions when they usually don't feel anything at all.
Ketu is connected to spirituality because natives who feel disconnected from the real world to this extent find it easier to immerse themselves in the occult and in esoterica. It is more abstract and requires you to think non-logically, i.e, experientially, but this is something Ketuvians have a hard time with, they themselves feel very "abstract" or like they aren't real or don't exist, so while they're intrinsically drawn to the esoteric, they feel untethered/ungrounded by immersing themselves in it too much. They need something they can cling to, they need something solid that they can attach themselves to.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9b25c138cdf7e21ccc7c9bddac409257/35062ecf29e77c6e-de/s540x810/5f7e358c52007feb540117af09b97dc1d03e7a19.jpg)
All Rahuvian nakshatras belong to the Shudra caste, specifically the Butcher caste, this is very interesting because Shudra is the lowest caste (Mleccha is "outcaste" which means it exists outside the system entirely), to be Rahuvian means to operate on the lowest level. Butchers have to slaughter meat to make a living, that is unpleasant and brutal work, and only if they are disconnected from it can they keep doing it. They cannot be too focused on what they actually do because then it will be hard for them to do their tasks. They're not repulsed by it because they're disconnected from it.
2/3 Ketuvian naks are also Shudra caste whereas Ashwini is the only Ketu nak that is upper caste as it is a Vaishya nak.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/18d4fd0da0c6eb7f2375b46b28f846d7/35062ecf29e77c6e-87/s540x810/45905ada7572159a52b87f45e72349ae3c1a5773.jpg)
(table by me hehe)
Rahuvian naks are found in all 3 ganas (Swati is deva gana, Ardra is manushya gana, Shatabhisha is rakshasa gana)
2/3 Ketuvian naks are Rakshasa gana (Mula, Magha) with only Ashwini being a Deva gana nak
I feel like Ketuvians are always made to feel like the bad guy / people villainize them a lot. They're the "ugly ducklings" who have to "win" approval as they're never accepted for who they are.
Rahu needs to immerse itself in something because its sensory perception is limited and they need to really indulge to grasp what is "real". Its very common for people with heavy Rahuvian or Rahu in a malefic placement to experience hallucinations or feel like their grip on reality is very thin.
Ketu has nothing perceive with at all. Its like being completely lost in the shadows or the dark. There's no perception taking place at all, it makes the natives inwardly drawn because its truly hard for them to absorb from their surroundings unlike Rahu which absorbs easily and fully. Rahu is over immersed whereas Ketu lacks immersion at all.
Lets look at the yoni animals of Rahu & Ketu naks respectively
Rahu: Ardra -dog yoni, Shatabhisha- horse yoni, Swati-buffalo yoni
Ketu: Magha-rat yoni, Mula- dog yoni, Ashwini-horse yoni
one common theme is that all these animals are abused, mistreated and exploited
(rats are the go to animal for lab testing, dogs are valued for their loyalty and are at the mercy of their owners, horses are made to endure so much labour, buffalos are farm animals)
all of these animals are also associated with dirt/filth in some way or another which is perhaps why people with Nodal influence often have a dishevelled appearance. They're bad at taking care of themselves.
Both horse yoni & dog yoni are divided among Rahu & Ketu naks whereas the yoni consort for Swati is Hasta (Moon ruled) and Magha is Purvaphalguni (Venus ruled).
Horses are very strong but very fragile animals. They start walking almost immediately after birth, they sleep standing up but they require a lot of attention and care as their health tends to be very fragile. Even though horses are associated with working hard, its not exactly innately part of their nature, it's just that they've been domesticated into being that way. It represents a very powerful active energy, as horses can be highly temperamental and unpredictable.
Dog yoni on the other hand, makes a person very needy and eager to please others. Dogs depend on the affection of their owners and without it they feel unhappy. Both these nakshatras have obsessive tendencies and a people pleasing nature. They're also two nakshatras who endure abuse the most.
I've noticed that a lot of people tend to have both nodes in their chart and I wonder what its like to house such contradictions. On one hand you're extremely involved, on the other, you're supremely detached.
The entertainment industry is one where people with Nodal influence really thrive but also often, self-destruct themselves. Its immensely hard to balance these energies since Rahu heightens whatever is in it, the way Jupiter expands whatever it touches. Both planets make you feel manic but in different ways.
Addiction is the result of an overactive nervous system and a coping mechanism. Ketu feels cut off from society/life/the world so in order to feel connected, it over indulges. Rahu needs something that will help them fully lose themselves, idk if I'm explaining it properly but you know how the best movies you've watched are the ones where you feel like you were in them experiencing those things with the characters? Its like that
There is an unhappy pattern of Rahu & Ketu influenced people being abused, I have especially noted this among child actors but also others.
Taylor Momsen- Swati Moon
Her parents signed her up with Ford Modeling when she was just 2 years old. "No 2-year-old wants to be working, but I had no choice. My whole life, I was in and out of school. I didn't have friends. I was working constantly and I didn't have a real life."
This theme of not experiencing "real life" or reality is very prominent in the lives of Rahuvian and Ketuvian people. It can be interpreted in many ways according to the context but there is always a sense of being deprived of what was "normal" or "real" as a result of which these natives had to live in their imagination or indulge in other things.
Like the child star who worked their whole life playing other people (acting is very Rahuvian) or the loner kid who spends all their time immersed in movies or video games because that feels more "real" to them.
Fame is also an inherently Rahuvian experience bc it's an illusion & a prison.
Judy Garland- Ardra Rising, Mula Moon
She was emotionally abused and controlled by her mother who got her addicted to drugs by the time she was a teenager. She was also sexually abused by the studio executives she worked with. Judy had a very tough life.
Aaron Carter, Ardra Moon, Mula Rising
Aaron Carter claimed that as a teen musician, his family spent $500 million of his money on 15 houses and 30 cars. He claimed that when his parents sold the houses, he didn't get a cut of the profits. He also alleged that his dad shot a .44 magnum near his ear — which resulted in him going 70% deaf in one ear — to force him into signing a $256,000 check.
Being heavily tattooed (more examples at the end of this post) is also a very Nodal thing to do.
He unfortunately passed away in 2022 from an accidental drug overdose. This is also a very unfortunate pattern among Nodal celebrities.
Macaulay Culkin- Shatabhisha Moon, Magha Sun & Mercury
Macaulay Culkin's father Kit managed him during his childhood career. Macaulay has shared that his father was controlling and had him on a very busy filming schedule in the early '90s. He added his father made him stay up every night to study the lines he would have to say the next day. Macaulay asserted that his father was "such a crazy person" that he forced him to do SNL without cue cards when he hosted the show at 11 years old. Macaulay has explained that he felt his father was jealous of him because “everything he tried to do in his life I excelled at before I was 10 years old.”When Macaulay stopped acting after his 1994 movie Richie Rich, he told his parents, “I’m done, guys — hope you all made your money because there is no more coming from me.”His parents were never married and after he stopped acting, his mother filed for custody. Macaulay ended up taking his parents to court to stop them from controlling his $17 million in earnings. Since then, he and his father have been estranged.
I feel like the "child star gone wild" is a trope meant specifically for Nodal people
Keke Palmer, Magha Sun & Mercury, Mula Moon
Palmer shared on IG:
"Due to traveling and scheduling both of my parents had to stop working to support my career and be present for my three siblings, leaving me with the financial responsibility around age 12. Which I took great pride in because I knew what it would do for generations to come and a huge blessing that I could even help out. However it caused me a lot of pain because I essentially had to abandon my childhood feelings and desires, becoming like a parentalized child, which is something some of you can probably relate to in your own way. This was something that I have had to continuously work through because I am grateful but often feel like.. I missed “IT”. Life can be such a tragic comedy because how funny is it.. that now becoming an actual parent, and the responsibility I’ve always carried being more valid now than ever, has in fact given me the chance to feel what it’s like to be a kid again, I get a chance to explore a lot of the things I missed out on with my son, His freedom is like, the most priceless gift to me. He is already teaching me so much, it’s like he awakened the little me inside that I thought was long gone."
Ketu dominance = being your own parent, being neglected by your family or having to be your parent's parent.
Michael Jackson, Magha Sun & Mercury, Shatabhisha Rising
From a young age Jackson was physically and mentally abused by his father, enduring incessant rehearsals, whippings and name-calling. Jackson's abuse as a child affected him throughout his grown life. reading about the lives of the Jackson siblings and how severely they were all abused is very perspective altering and sad
Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen, Magha Moon, Ashlesha Rising (inc the ashlesha placement bc its another nak often subject to control and abuse)
“With what we were doing in business when we were younger, I don’t think it ever felt like we were actresses,” Mary-Kate “Because we spend so much more of our time not in front of the cameras, building a brand. Ashley agreed, saying: “I always looked at myself, even as a kid, as a business woman.” Mary-Kate said she wouldn't wish her childhood on anyone, and said she felt like a "monkey performer."
they quit acting in the mid 2000s and rarely make public appearances and god only knows what they endured in the business bc neither of them will talk about it.
Sarah Michelle Geller, Ashwini Sun conjunct Ketu, Shatabhisha Moon
Sarah herself enjoyed the path she'd ended up on, she has rules in place for her own daughter. Recalling the "industry abuses" she experienced as a teenager in Hollywood, she said she hoped she'd "set up a safety net for these actors that I didn't have," but that she and husband Freddie Prinze Jr. have "rules in place" that mean daughter Charlotte "can't be in front of a camera until she graduates high school."
Kylie Jenner, Swati Moon
Kylie started appearing on her family's reality show when she was 10
In 2016, she told her sister Kim in an episode of the show: "I feel like I've had anxiety for too long. I feel too much, I care too much, I read too much. Some people are born for this life and some people aren’t. I just know I’m not supposed to be famous.” in an old IG post she said: "I’m proud of myself, my heart, and my strength. Growing up in the light with a million eyes on you just isn’t normal. I’ve lost friends along the way and I’ve lost myself too sometimes. My first tattoo was 'sanity' to remind myself everyday to keep it. I’ve struggled with anxiety my whole young adult life." "I know I don't want to be famous forever. There's gonna be a time where I feel comfortable, I'm at a good place in my life, and I just stop."
Natalie Wood, Ashwini Moon
The late Natalie Wood was forced into acting by her mother, Maria, who missed her chance to become a performer and instead focussed her efforts on pushing her daughters to stardom.
While young Natalie had a natural talent for performing, it seemed that her reason for going to movie sets was more to please her mother than to quench any desire of her own.
Bella Thorne, Mula Moon
"I was sexually abused and physically growing up from the day I can remember till I was 14. When I finally had the courage to lock my door at night and sit by it. All damn night." She has also stated that she only started acting as a child to support her family.
Drew Barrymore, Shatabhisha Sun
Drew's mother took her to clubs and allowed her access to drugs and alcohol, ultimately leading to her institutionalization at the age of 13, and emancipating herself at 14. Drew described fame at such a young age as "a recipe for disaster."
Edith Piaf, Mula Sun & Mercury, Magha Mars
Born in Paris practically on the streets, she struggled from day one, the daughter of street performers. The mother, a singer, eventually abandoned both Edith and her father for a solo career. Piaf spent her youth entertaining passers-by, receiving little formal education in the process. She often accompanied her father's acrobat street act with her singing and at various times was forced to live with various relatives, in alleys or in cheap hotels. An aborted love affair left her with a baby girl at age 17, but little Marcelle died of meningitis at 2 years old. Devastated, Piaf returned to the streets she knew, now performing solo. Her fortunes finally changed when an impresario, Louis Leplee, mesmerized by what he heard, offered the starving but talented urchin a contract. He alone was responsible for taking her off the streets at age 20 and changing her name from Edith Gassion to "La Mome Piaf" (or "Kid Sparrow"). Piaf grew in status entertaining in elegant cafés and cabarets and became a singing sensation amid the chic French society with her throbbing vocals and raw, emotional power. From 1936, Piaf recorded many albums and eventually became one of the highest paid stars in the world.
Later in life she became an addict and died in poverty at the age of 47.
Brittany Murphy, Swati Moon & Venus
she was a child star who was managed by her controlling mom. she battled with eating disorders and drug addiction. rip britt.
Justin Bieber, Shatabhisha Sun conjunct Saturn
Justin shot to fame at a very young age and was severely exploited by his management/everybody around him
Now here are some heavily tatted celebs and their placements
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L to R
Rihanna- Shatabhisha Sun
Paris Jackson- Ardra Moon
Cheryl Cole- Ardra Sun & Mars, Shatabhisha Moon
Demi Lovato- Magha Sun
Jungkook- Magha Moon, Mula Rising
Ruby Rose- Swati Rising
Machine Gun Kelly- Ashwini Sun
The 27 club refers to a phenomenon where several musicians have died by age 27, many from an overdose. Unfortunately many of them have Nodal influence.
Brian Jones- Shatabhisha Sun
Jimi Hendrix- Mula Rising
Amy Winehouse- Mula Moon
Kurt Cobain- Shatabhisha Sun, Ardra Moon,
Janis Joplin- Ardra Moon, Mula Mars, Asc conjunct Ketu (in Dhanishta)
Jim Morrison- Ketu conjunct Rising (in Shravana)
several other celebrities who have died from overdoses also tend to have prominent Nodal influence
John Belushi- Mula Rising
Phillip Seymour Hoffman- Mercury in Ardra 2h, Mars conjunct Ketu in Swati
Prince- Shatabhisha Moon, Ketu in Ashwini
Whitney Houston- Shatabhisha Rising
River Phoenix- Magha Sun conjunct Ketu, Swati Ascendant conjunct Jupiter
Elvis Presley- Shatabhisha Moon
Margaux Hemingway- Ashwini Rising
Nodal planets are shadow planets and it can be very difficult for these natives to manage this energy as it is energy without a source, Rahu & Ketu don't have physical form or existence, that is a lot of uncontrolled energy to possess within yourself. Many people turn to spirituality and other esoteric sources and good Rahu & Ketu influence is vital and necessary to study or gain access to gnosis, study astrology or other occult matters but when this energy is imbalanced in their chart, these natives are more prone to self-destruction than any other planetary dominance simply because the unbridled energy is impossible to contain and requires some kind of coping mechanism. I have dated several Nodal men and they all dealt with varying degrees of addiction to varying substances and they all spoke about "wanting to feel more real" or how "nothing feels solid". I will try to focus on the positive manifestations of the Nodes on a future post.
thanks for reading<333
#astrology notes#astrology observations#vedic astro notes#nakshatras#astrology#astroblr#astro notes#astro observations#vedic astrology#sidereal astrology#jyotish#rahu#ketu#ashwini#shatabhisha#mula#magha#swati#ardra
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Disabled Whump & Hurt/Comfort 2025 Prompt List
These are the prompts for the 2025 Disabled Whump & Hurt/Comfort writing challenge, a 30-day challenge running from April 1-April 30, 2025.
Below the read more are the content and posting rules for this challenge.
Feel free to start writing your works before April, but please only post on and after April 1st.
The prompts are divided by themes, but can be mixed up or taken out of order or only a few at a time. See rules for more information
LIFE IS LIKE THAT Established disability
1. Hurt: Hitting a weak spot | “I knew this would happen” | Exacerbated injury
2. Comfort: Challenged expectations | Relapse recovery | Disabled comforter
The Long Haul
3. Hurt: Chronic pain | Forced endurance | “Aren’t you better yet?”
4. Comfort: Support network | Recognizing the signs | Reassurance
Acquired disability
5. Hurt: Accident | Deliberate injury | Medical aftermath
6. Comfort: Accommodation | Physical therapy | Learning curve
Recovery
7. Hurt: “I feel like I’m going backwards” | Exhausting recovery | Side effects
8. Comfort: Long-term treatment | “New normal” | Healing from trauma
Adaptation
9. Hurt: Destroyed assistive device | Painful healing | Go it alone
10. Comfort: “My own way of doing things” | Work-arounds | Assistive device
PAIN AND PERIL Environmental
11. Hurt: Extreme temperatures | Mobility restriction | Isolation
12. Comfort: Safe place | Survive together | Coming home
Sensory
13. Hurt: Flare-up | Relapse | Adverse reaction
14. Comfort: Quiet place | Helping them calm down | “Hang in there”
Trapped
15. Hurt: Painful restraints | Chemically subdued | “No one’s coming”
16. Comfort: Rescue | “It’s alright, you’re safe” | Support/carrying
Medical
17. Hurt: Emergency/field medicine | Hospitalized | Medical trauma
18. Comfort: Being believed | Symptoms relieved | Diagnosis
Breaking Point
19. Hurt: Self-sabotage | “Pushing through” | Collapse
20. Comfort: “You’re not alone” | “Give them time” | Loyalty
EMOTIONAL HURT Loss
21. Hurt: Frustrated ambition | Something lost permanently | Missing out
22. Comfort: Adjusted expectations | There no matter what | New paths
Autonomy
23. Hurt: “I know what’s best for you” | Defiance | “My body’s not mine”
24. Comfort: “It’s your decision” | Leadership | At home in their body
Psychological Effects
25. Hurt: In a bad mood | Out of energy | At the end of their rope
26. Comfort: Moral support | “You can rest now” | “Give them space”
Stoicism
27. Hurt: Hiding a condition | Impossible standards | “I’m used to it”
28. Comfort: Explicit support | Opening up | “I won’t leave you”
Intimacy
29. Hurt: Miscommunication | Trust issues | Fear of rejection
30. Comfort: Adapting intimacy | Let it all out | Kiss (or more) and make up
Rules below the cut:
This event will be centered on characters with disabilities and chronic conditions, both visible (ex, paraplegia; limb differences) and invisible (ex, migraines; CFS). For writing to qualify, please have one or more disabled/chronically ill characters as the focus of your story, rather than a side character/cameo in a story about abled characters. Prompts are meant to facilitate stories about disability and disabled characters in the genres of hurt/comfort and whump (also known as hurt-no-comfort).
"Disability" can have a broad definition, and many conditions can be disabling. The moderator will not be filtering or rejecting submissions based on what medical conditions "count"; the only parameter is that the central character lives with a chronic condition of some type which is disabling for them in some way. Disabililties which come about in a fantasy or sci-fi setting are welcome as long as they are portrayed as being disabling in some way which is anaolgous (eg, a permanent problem caused by magic, or vampirism as a fantasy-disability).
Please do not TAG your posts/links with the names of disabilities you are writing about, or with “disability” or “chronic illness”, as those tags are used by disabled folks to talk about our RL disabilities and in the past there have been issues with writers inadvertently clogging those tags with fiction/writing advice.
Please DO tag your posts and links #disabledwhc2025 and, in a second tag, the day (eg, #day 1: established disability) so the mod can find and reblog them to the blog!
Original work and fanfic are both welcome; anything goes in terms of settings and genres (fantasy, sci-fi) as long as it’s h/c or whump.
You do not have to write for every prompt (that’s why there’s a mix of hurt and comfort!) or every day to be featured. If you don’t have time for 30 days, do as many as you feel like. If you only write either H/C or Whump, you can do a 15-day challenge, reinterpret the hurt prompts to include comfort, and/or find a whumpy spin on the comfort prompts.
If you write prompts out of order please still tag which day you are writing for and the title of that prompt set. So if you decide to post the prompt “frustrated ambition” from the set “Loss”, which is day 21, on April 3, please still tag your April 3 post “day 21: loss”.
There are no restrictions on what content can be posted, but please use content notes for the following topics: "Rape/noncon" "Underage" "Graphic Depictions of Violence" (ie gore), and "Major Character Death" before the start of your piece. You can also use the warning "Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings" if you do not want to spoil fic. Please use a "read more" for these pieces.
Please tag any NSFT works (explicit sexual content) as "NSFT". Please use a "read more" for these pieces.
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Im not saying im horny for Sebastian Krueger
But Sebastian would let you trace his tattoos for fun while he grinds against you gently through clothes
He loves to rub up and down your body.
His favorite hobby is rubbing lotion into your soft skin. He’d never admit it though, he’ll just grab the lotion and start rubbing her.
Truthfully it’s like the only stress relieving mechanism he has in his life, rubbing knots out of your muscles the same way you do for him.
He gets so horny when you moan. He’s even hornier if you help massage his muscles after a long deployment he’s a mess.
His body is rippling and twitching under your hands, he’s rock hard and grinding into the bed as your massage an especially difficult knot from his shoulder. He’s both trying to run from your hands but craving your keep going. He’s biting a pillow so he doesn’t make any embarrassing noises as you straddle his back. He’s praying you dont notice how he’s grinding because it’s a knot that’s probably been in hid back for years and having you release that tension is heavenly.
When you did get it unstuck he came in his pants a little. He ate you out and fucked you real good as a thank you. Truly, you are hus saving grace. He gets so whiny when he has knots now and all his comrades notice.
His cock, you asked, tell me about his cock?
My darlings I’ll tell you about his cock.
7 inches, moderate girth, nothing too big. Even girth throughout his length but a big flared tip that just bullies your insides. Its like that video of the train ramming into the little hole in the side of the mountain sometimes.
Huge fan of cock warming. Like the biggest. Will make you sit on it while you watch cooking shows because it was your choice that night for tv show and he was so bored.
Dont get him wrong, he’s taking notes so some day he can surprise cook you a fancy meal, but he gets so bored. He loves feeling you breath heavy and lean against him as he plays with the lips of your pussy as you sit on him. Truthfully there’s no place he’d rather be than with you on his cock as he rubs lotion into your hands. He loves the way your hands go almost limp in his touch when you feel pleasure, like you brain can’t separate the resources to keep controlling them and that priority is only on senses to your special areas.
Truthfully, this gruff and brutish man loves nothing more than his girlfriend, even if he shows it through snarky remarks and oddly sensual touches. “I love you” just doesnt come easy to him, but thats ok.
SO MUCH MORE in comments bc why not
Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!
#cod x reader#call of duty#sebastian krueger x reader#krueger x you#cod krueger#krueger x reader#sebastian krueger
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anxiety attack(ing me in real time)
Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader
Summary: The high of your shared love confessions becomes buried slowly over the following weeks, all thanks to your spiraling thoughts mid-flare up. You begin to believe you’re just not meant to be loved, but Steve has no problem challenging that absurd thought.
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This is a follow-up to just a lover. could be read on its own, I guess, but you might be a bit lost. Read on AO3 here.
WC: 2.6k
Includes: hurt/comfort, some very brief smut, language, discussions of painful vaginal sex/anorgasmia, moderately detailed descriptions of some LS symptoms, angst, happier ending
A/N: yesterday (1/17) was lichen sclerosus awareness day, and this fic is a way to cope with quite honestly the worst year of my life with LS, but also a request for a fic with a reader who deals with anorgasmia. I hope it’s alright I combined the two— it helps for me to write about what I know, but I hope this still brings some kind of visibility and comfort to any readers with any sort of vulvar conditions and/or painful sex. love y’all <3 (divider from @/saradika-graphics, and title is from anxiety in real time - the maine)
Of all the torment your body drags itself through, nothing is as devastating as forcing yourself to keep distance from the one you love most.
It’s been weeks since Steve touched you— because you won’t let him. It took one severe flare up, starting a whole new treatment— even discussing surgery with your doctor, as a last ditch effort for your health and sexual wellness— for you to crawl back into yourself.
Beyond embarrassment, the way your body betrays you is isolating. Always has been. Always will be, it seems. Despite finding love in the one person you trust most, the one you’ve always felt safe with, this illness is still merciless.
You had some hope, maybe, just maybe, after those first few times together— never fully having sex, only what your body could handle— there was a loophole to it all. That it just took being with the right person to be comfortable enough to actually feel pleasure, and genuine love, rather than agony and shame.
This body, though, had other plans. It always does.
Slowly, you drifted away; even if your rooms were across the hall from one another, it felt like you were miles apart.
Steve’s been empathetic from the start, checking in on you and your pain level, taking it day by day, keeping his promise of sharing “lazy days” with you, comfy clothes and all. Sex wasn’t a priority, nor did you believe he was ever that kind of person, but it was destroying you from the inside out that you couldn’t have that intimate connection with him. Not in the way you’d want, without caution beyond protection, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.
It’s as if the emotional wounds from this disease, with all of its life-altering symptoms, continued to get worse alongside your physical health. You used to be able to turn the thoughts off, float away in bliss with your partner, but the negativity only festered, rotting away a corner of your mind to make a permanent home.
Humiliation triggered erosion at the simple concept of only cuddling with Steve, or hugging him. The belief of becoming a disappointment to him seeped into your confidence; maybe you should push him away, so he finds someone better. Someone who won’t be such a let down, or distraught over their body destroying itself.
Your body wasn’t just destroying itself, it was destroying your relationship with your partner, your best friend, too.
Once the spiraling thoughts held strong enough, they were hard to shake. Even the mere thought of Steve holding you made your chest ache. An ache full of want, full of self-disappointment. You wanted to let him hold you, and you wanted to hold him, too.
But it didn’t stop the one prominent thought, driving you further away from him each day:
Some people are built for love— to love, to be loved— and maybe that just wasn’t you.
“That’s it, honey…” Steve murmured, forehead pressed against yours as he pumped a digit into you slowly, gently. You shuddered as a familiar sting drew itself up your slit. “Doin’ okay?”
“Mhm,” you lied, eyes scrunching shut with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. You were losing the tender moment, rather than losing yourself in it, feeling the pleasure slip through your fingers like sand.
“So good for me, so, so—“
Steve’s praise was cut off by an involuntary hiss from the pain; his hand stopped completely, frozen, afraid to move incorrectly and hurt you more.
“Hey, s’okay, we’re stopping—“ He’d cautiously pull his hand away, eyes flickering between his touch against you, and your expression. “… You don’t have your period, do you?”
Your eyes snapped open, falling to his hand; faint streaks of blood tinged the skin of his finger red.
“I’m sorry, I thought—“ Your eyes became glassy with tears, threatening to fall as you shook your head wildly. “I was hoping if I kinda… powered through it, maybe it’d feel better.”
Steve sighed, murmuring a “hang tight” as he slid off the bed, retrieving some clean, warm towels, and a first aid kit. It’s one he decided to make, full of things either of you needed, mainly for your flare-ups during intimate moments; back-up medication and all.
“Why didn’t you say something was wrong?” He kept busy with a tender touch, cleaning off remnants of blood on you. Shame began to swallow you whole, and the tears finally broke. “Hey, I’m not upset with you. I just wish you said something. I hate hurting you.”
“N- no, it’s not you, I promise!” This is where the whirlwind of panic usually tied to these flare-ups begins. “I’m sorry, I was— it’s— I didn’t mean to—“
He gently shushed you, hands warm as they rested on your thighs. “Lay back for me, angel.” You complied, conflicted by how sincere he was caring for you, and how mortifying it was for him to see this part of you. “Be honest if anything hurts, okay?”
With patience and love, Steve applied medication to your agitated skin with a feather-light touch. In time, the sharp sting and inflammation’s throbbing heat began to subside; it wouldn’t go away completely, not for a few days, maybe even a week, at least. This was better than minutes ago, though.
Though you were grateful through the guilt for his help, you hated whenever he had a close look at how fucked your anatomy had become, scarred over time from a majority of your life without a diagnosis, without treatment. The unkind thoughts began to convince you that you must look grotesque to him.
He cracked an instant ice pack, wrapping it in a washcloth before handing it over to you. “Your bed, or mine? Or do you want space?”
Ice pack held to your core, you croak out, “Yours, please.”
Minutes later, you were tucked in next to him, in fresh, loose clothing, physically feeling calmer, but mentally, you were a wreck inside.
“Talk to me,” he gently commanded.
“It’s- sometimes it’s hard to—“ you huffed in frustration, eyes welling up with tears again. “Sometimes it still takes me longer than I’d like to finish… sometimes I don’t, at all. I thought maybe it was different now that we’re together, but it’s— I swear it’s not you. You know that, right?”
Steve rested his hand on your neck, fingers brushing along your jaw, behind your ear, in slow, soothing movements.
“I know. It’s out of your control. We don’t ever have to do anything.”
“But I want to—“
“And I want you to be safe, and not suffer more than you already do.”
There was no arguing that, not with Steve; you kept your mouth shut, trying to settle into the shared quiet before falling asleep.
Instead, your racing thoughts kept you awake; if you’d ever reach remission, finally feel something other than pain when Steve would touch you, or would he eventually become fed up and leave? You wouldn’t blame him.
Couldn’t hurt to give him some distance… right?
A knock echoes over the shower’s running water, but you don’t react. Instead, you stay curled up on the shower floor, knees pulled to your chest as you sit under the shower head. Body quaking with heaving sobs, you don’t hear the curtain as it’s pulled back, and it takes a few seconds to register arms around you, embracing you with extra care.
“Oh…” You look up to find Steve, leaning into the tub to hold you close, concern written all over his face. “Steve… you’re gonna get your shirt wet,” you mumble, hiccuping in between sobs.
He laughs lightly, but it’s forced. “I can wash those, it’s— that doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”
You shrug.
“Angel, c’mon, talk to me,” he pleads. “Robin called me, said she could hear you crying from down the hall.”
Well. That’s a pathetic new low.
It hits you Steve’s still in his Family Video vest. “Oh my god— you— why did you leave work?”
He scoffs, exasperated that it’s not obvious. “‘Cause I love you, and you’re way more important than some stupid movies.” Pulling back, he peels his damp shirt and vest over his head, kicking his pants off too. He flounders around on the floor comically, struggling to get his pants off before realizing his shoes are still on.
You snort through your tears, curling his own smile just a smidge.
“Make some room, I’m coming in to bother you.”
That pulls a weak giggle out of you. “You’re never bothering me.”
Steve climbs in next to you, wiping water from his eyes as it hits his face. It’s a snug fit, in this tiny bathtub, but you make it work. He takes one of your hands in his own, gently kissing the back of your hand.
“Will you tell me what’s going on now?”
“Are you happy with me? With us?” It comes out like word vomit, surprising you, and it doesn’t stop there. “Because I— I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me, if you feel bad, or you’re worried it’ll fuck with our friendship, and the fact we live together, and—“
“Where’s this coming from?” Then he begins to connect the pieces. “Is this why you’ve been so distant?”
You nod reluctantly, adding, “It doesn’t bother you that we can’t have sex?”
“If anything were to bother me about that, it’s the fact that I wish I could make you feel good when you want to.” His hand cradles along the side of your face, molding to your jaw as he sweeps his thumb along your cheekbone. You hesitate from leaning into his hold. “This is all out of your control… and even if it wasn’t, and you just didn’t care for sex, I’d still love being with you.”
Your bottom lip curls into a pout, afraid to let your eyes meet his own. “You’re not just saying that, right?”
“Are you kidding me? I loved you before we started dating, back when the most we did was cuddle. What makes me happy is spending time with my best friend, being in love with my best friend.” Not a shred of doubt lies in his expression. He maneuvers around you awkwardly, but eventually, he’s got your back to his chest, resting against him in the tub.
It’s soothing to have his skin flush against your own; intimacy and compassion without it becoming sexual. As much as you’d like that, it’s good to feel this, that it’s something he’s more than okay with.
“We’ve survived so much, that I’m just happy we’re both here. We’re both alive. I’m content spending time together however you want to, as long as you are.” He kisses your cheek, arms winding around your waist. “Has this been the same flare-up this whole time?”
You nod, sighing. “I kept getting… frustrated that I couldn’t finish, and eventually—“ Pausing, you remember he assured you in the past the gory, unappealing details don’t bother him; he’d rather you talk about it than downplay it. “I’m so mad I can’t experience what I did the first few times we got together. I’m angry I can’t connect with you in this way. It’s not everything, but I’d kill to feel… normal when it comes to this shit.
“Thought maybe if I tried some toys again, I’d work myself up to do more with you, but that— I just… I’m only making the scarring worse. My skin has been tearing so easily lately. M’close to saying fuck it and getting surgery, ‘cause I can barely feel my clit under all the scars, and I’d really like to just… exist, without my skin tearing and fusing, and infection risks.”
Steve rests his head against the back of yours, asking softly, “What’s the ‘but’ here?”
“… But, there’s a chance it can fail. Worst that happens is… nothing.” Sniffling, you mirthlessly laugh over it all. “I go through surgery, I heal, just for my skin to completely fuse back together… but it’s gonna continue doing that anyway, even with treatment, it seems. So… might as well take the leap, I guess.”
“Whatever you decide, I’m with you, every step of the way.” He turns his palms upward over your lap, and you take the hint, lacing your fingers between his. Squeezing gently, he sighs softly in your ear, tickling your skin, earning a faint smile. “If you ever decide you wanna fool around, you have to be open with me. If you don’t feel good, there’s no point in continuing. And if you decide you never want me to touch you, even outside of sex, I can respect that, too.”
A small sob leaves your lips, shaking your head quickly. “No, I— give me time. If anything, I still wanna cuddle and kiss and all that… maybe more if this flare-up ever fucks off. Just kept thinking maybe if I stayed away, it’d be easier for you.”
“It wasn’t, but I understand you’re hurting. Like I said, I’ll respect whatever you want, but I hope it’s alright to say I missed this, being close like this. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?” Steve runs a thumb over the pad of your own, grimacing. “How long have you been in here? You’re practically a raisin at this point, babe.”
“Oh, shit. I’m probably using up all of the hot water—“ You scramble toward the faucet, killing the water flow, cringing as you turn back to Steve. “Oops.”
He snorts, helping you up as he stands, too. “C’mon, let’s get in comfy clothes, then we can do whatever you wanna do.”
“Lazy day?” You softly suggest, earning a sincere, half-smile from your partner. He pulls a towel off the nearby rack, draping it around your shoulders before grabbing his own.
“Lazy day,” he affirms, enveloping you back into his embrace.
Though the thoughts try to creep back, it’s easier to shove them aside in his arms. Everything feels certain here. Safe.
While the two of you get changed, your gaze wanders, taking in Steve’s figure before he’s covered up. He’s just so… pretty. Even all this time later, your stomach still flips when you admire how gorgeous he is.
Steve throws a sweatshirt on, catching your less than sneaky stare. You clear your throat, rushing to toss a shirt on while rambling out, “I really am okay with kissing, though. Like… really, really okay with it. Very okay. A-okay.”
He breathily laughs, pulling you back against him, only to hold you. “If you’re okay with it, I am, too. And if you change your mind, that’s also a-okay.”
“Well…” your hands grip his hips, glancing up with a tiny smirk, feeling more at ease than earlier today. “Just ‘cause I can’t do certain things, doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good still.”
Blushing, Steve’s eyes widen. “I- I don’t— you don’t have to do anything, that’s not fair to you—“
“What if I want to?” Your question comes out sweet, and it’s genuine; you still love making him feel good, at least. There’s ways to go about that without worrying about your health. “Would that be alright with you?”
“Uh-huh,” he breathes, hyper-aware of your body against his. You lead him over to your bed, gently pushing him back onto it.
“Good.” Crawling up over Steve, it’s satisfying enough to watch how dazed he’s already become. It’s a compromise you’ll gladly take. You brush your lips against his, speaking softly, “‘Cause I got a lot of time and touch to make up for.”
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#anxiety attack(ing me in real time)#My fics
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ive been thinking about chronic pain, mine specifically and how everyone else that ive interacted with seems much to have worse pain then what i have. the majority the time its no pain or mild to moderate pain in my knees and hips which makes it hard to walk up stairs/long periods of time and its annoying and makes it hard to concentrate so im stuck between thinking "i dont have chronic pain and theres nothing wrong with me im making this up" and when im in a flare up/pain is worse its "im actually not making this up and its fucking horrible i want it to stop". maybe this is normal idk. im tired and just want to know what the fuck is wrong with me.
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Fluff with jiyan? The rest is up for you :3
Idk where this went as this feels more crack than fluff.
Long before he was a general he was a medic, and with that came a need to treat each and every one of your injuries, whether it be a paper cut or a burn jiyan felt the need and the duty to care for it and see it heal properly.
So that’s exactly what he did and it never failed to amuse you.
‘Must you always be reckless with yourself?’ Jiyan would find himself asking as he finishes up covering the cut on your upper forearm.
‘Must you always resort back to your medic days whenever I get hurt?’ You retorted, looking at his work and taking note of how the bandage didn’t feel neither loose nor too tight, it felt just as it should if it were done by the hands of a professional. It amazes you that the same calloused hands that meticulously covered your wound were the very same calloused hands that now leads an army into battle, it wasn’t something your mind couldn’t quite grasp yet despite how long you’ve been with him.
‘I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t go out and get hurt by a rouge Gulpuff.’ Jiyan replied as he crossed his arms over his chest while you smiled sheepishly at the mention of how you got where you were in the first place. You didn’t see that Gulpuff coming and that was your biggest mistake.
‘It came out of nowhere!’ You cried, waving your arms and immeditly regretting it when pain flared within your injured arm.
‘Even if you didn’t see it coming, you would’ve still been able to hear it coming.’ Jiyan explained but the moon upon your face told him all he needed to know as he added. ‘Unless you were listening to music unnecessarily loud, again. I’ve told you the danger that poses to your hearing.’
You pouted, not one for liking when Jiyan was disappointed in you. ‘Then they shouldn’t make music that makes me wanna rail loosing my hearing for.’ You muttered under your breath as Jiyan could only run a hand down his face. You were certainly something so he wasn’t quite certain why he was acting as this was anything new but getting ambushed by some Gulpuffs while listening to loud music was defiantly…something.
‘Then at least promise me that you’ll listen to music at a moderate rate, or at least have one earphone out while you’re out on your explorations, the last thing I want is you getting seriously hurt and I’m unable to help.’ He then asks as he holds your face in his hands, looking at you intently with his golden eyes.
‘I promise,’ you muttered as you melted into his hold, ‘I promise I’ll stop if it gives you peace of mind.’
Jiyan kisses your forehead before pressing his forehead against yours. ‘It very much would my dearest, it very much would.’
*a week later*
‘A Gulpuff attacked me.’ You told jiyan as you pointed to your forehead where your most recent injury was, teary eyed.
Jiyan only sighed as he got the first aid kit from the kitchen but while retrieving it he couldn’t help but smile to himself, you truly knew how to make life entertaining, even if it was your unspoken rivalry either some Gulpuffs.
#wuwa#wuwa x reader#wuwa x you#wuwa imagine#wuwa imagines#wuthering waves#wuthering waves x reader#wuthering waves x you#Wuthering waves imagine#Wuthering waves imagines#jiyan x reader#jiyan x you#jiyan imagine#jiyan imagines
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The Lost Boys: When they break up with or are broken up with by their S/O
******Note: This post definitely makes the boys come off super toxic, so if that's not your thing you've been warned******
Marko
I could see him being the one to break Hearts
His artsy fartsy ways of doing things aren’t for everyone
And he’s a bit of hot head, so I could see him starting fights with his S/O over nothing
I think his S/O would feel like they were walking around on eggshells whenever they were around Marko and it would become to much eventually
He can be so thoughtful and genuine with his S/O, but then in another moment be so cruel
He gets bored easily, and will just stop hanging out with you mid relationship because he just not “inspired anymore”
I think he is the type of person to not care about who does the breaking up either
If you want to break up with him? Fine. He doesn’t care, and to prove that point he will throw any belongings of yours that you left in cave, right into the ocean
If he sees you on the boardwalk, and you try to talk to him? He will pretend like he never met you before and introduce himself.
Yep, he's that type of asshole
He’s not afraid to break things off himself either
Except when he does it full of theatrical flare, and usually ends in blood
Paul
I Think most of his break ups were do to him being a little bit of a player
It’s not his fault that when he sees a beautiful woman walking down the boardwalk he checks them out!
Or that when you two were at a party he lets some other randoms grind on him
The worst part is that he won’t take responsibility for it either
He will just blame it on his “vampire instincts”
He still acts like a teenager too, which is S/O finds infuriating
He won’t wash unless reminded too, so he’s a little smelly and he tries to hide it with cheap cologne
He never has any money and has to constantly asks for an allowance from David or money from his S/O
I think Paul has a new girlfriend every few days too
It’s to the point where whenever he introduces a new girlfriend to the boys they don’t even bother learning their name.
And sometimes Paul won’t even bother introducing them in the first place because he know they don’t tend to last
Of course he doesn’t believe he has anything to do with it. He just blames it on how “Santa Carla women are”
So all these thing together could force his S/O to break up with him
I think it would happen on the boardwalk too
The two of you meet, and as your telling him your breaking up with him he checks out someone mid convo
I think his S/O would just give up halfway through their “I’m breaking up with you” speech and just walk away
Unfortunately, I don’t think Paul would really care
I don’t think his relationships ever truly reach the serious stage
He prefers his relationships unclear and full of spontaneity
He’s also very lazy, so he’s fine when someone breaks up with him so he doesn’t have to put the effort into doing it himself
Dwayne
he is a very private person, and rarely seeks out human companionship unless it is to secure his next meal
But every once in a while he meets a human he moderately like more than most humans and decides to pursue them
When this happens he never introduces them to the boys and never brings them back to the cave
In his mind their secret is far too valuable to risk it’s exposure
Because of this his S/O can get frustrated that Dwayne doesn’t share at lot of his personal life with them
So The relationship can feel very one sided
Dwayne is also really bad with verbal communication and tends to lean on non verbal cues to get his point across
I think Dwayne also has a “thing” about people breaking up with him so if he suspects that the relationship has run its course he will just end things first
He also has this other “thing” where he can’t stand seeing someone he used to be in a relationship with be with another person….so usually when he breaks up with someone it also ends in a meal
David
Like we all know, David likes to be in control.
He’s the leader that calls the shots no questions asked
This would definitely be same when he is in a relationship
He chooses where they go, who they hang out with, and what they do in general
I think his S/O would be okay with this at first. They knew what they signed up for when they started dating him
And they would definitely believe that the positives in their relationship would outway the negatives.
Sure David won't let them go for a walk by themselves, but at least they're safe right?
And they can’t choose what they wear either, but that's just because David knows best.
But like most things the reality of who David is would probably be wayyyyy too much for most people.
I think once David’s S/O removed their rose colored glasses and realized they wanted out
It would be a huge challenge to convince David of this fact
David’s S/O: David, we need to talk.
*David fixing something on his chair* What did you say Sweetheart?
David’s S/O: David I’m not happy I don't want to be with you anymore.
*David pretending to look around the cave for something* I don’t think I heard you right, love. What did you want again?
David’s S/O: David….
David: It’s okay love, you don’t need to talk. Why don’t you keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and let's go for a ride with the boys.
I think once his S/O managed to get him to acknowledge the fact that they wanted out of the relationship, one of two things would happen.
David would drain you himself, or give you to the boys to drain
or
David’s complex would not allow the thought he was being broken up with so, I could see him using his mind control powers to change your mind into staying with him
This wouldn't last long though. I can only imagine a person being mind controlled to be in love with you would get kind of old after a while. And David is kind of a jerk
So, I could see David mind wiping his S/O and leaving them somewhere to fend for themselves
#david tlb#dwayne tlb#fanfic#lost boys#lost boys 1987#marko tlb#paul tlb#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys david#the lost boys paul#the lost boys marko#the lost boys dwayne#tlb david#tlb dwayne#tlb fanfiction#tlb fandom#tlb 1987#the lost boys x reader#tlb imagines#tlb headcanons#tlb fanfic#fandom#fanfiction#breakups
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I would like to read about Michiru at the grocery store looking for Poptarts, examining the different types and trying to remember which one Haruka said was her favorite.
Michiru believed that little in this world could be called truth, a truth that went to the root, things that were so undeniably true they made up the world, and without it, there was nothing but a crumbled mass. Gravity. Thermodynamics. Her desperate love of the stray dog of Tokyo, Haruka Tenoh.
She had never taken into full account the saying, "truth hurts" juntil she found herself in an asbestos-tiled, florescent-lit American grocery store, considering Pop Tart flavors.
Handmade leather tapped uneasily in aisle three. Six ply cashmere brushed against raw Chinese silk as a moderate hit from the 1980s drifted overhead.
Frosted Brown Sugar beckoned.
It had been against Michiru's better judgment to have brought Haruka to the United States in the first place, but she could hardly say no, touring it for a month. There were many risks Michiru had dared in the attempt: Lost in the streets with her utter lack of English, a quick flare of temper with the wrong people, but never had she imagined the horrors of Haruka discovering Pop Tarts. Requesting them, no less, at any engagement that took her to America following.
It offended Michiru on several levels that they dare call the abomination in the bright blue box a tart, suggesting any kind of legitimacy, or, at the very least, it would if the sort of people who ate them had any sense of what a tart was meant to taste like.
"Oh, let me just sneak right past ya here."
A woman in a ball cap and a t-shirt declaring her love of a children's cartoon reached for the limited edition Frosted Strawberry Milkshake.
"Aren't these great?" She smiled brightly and then went on her way, in no need of an answer, as a true believer needs no response to know the greatness of her god.
Michiru put a box of the bismol-pink, besprinkled pastries--she shuddered that her own mind bent to call them that--into her basket.
Courage. It's Valentine's Day. She is in Tokyo, and you are in love.
No, not brown sugar. Perhaps another of the new, the Banana Bread, to ruin two perfectly fine desserts at once. The Frosted Blueberry. They are her favorite.
Michiru raised her chin, and marched steadily and with clear resolve to the check out line, ready to admit to the purchase.
Love truly is suffering.
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