#my instincts are telling me that its the former

[getawaycardotvent]

Anyways. Do you think Camille Vasquez knows that she's making things worse for herself in the long run?

I don't know how long its going to take, but let's say in ten years, we fully have that cultural reckoning about the DvH case. Depp dies choking on his own vomit so he can't sue anyone anymore. the Framing Amber Heard doc comes out and becomes a phenomenon and the tabloids have to go on a little apology tour about it.

Does Vasquez think that when that happens (and past experience tells us that it is a when, not an if), that everyone is going to forget her role in everything?

Misogyny doesn't only impact women who are good people; another facet of misogyny is women being held disproportionately responsible for bad actions that men also commit at greater frequency or with greater consequences, etc. (This is why Amber gets so much insane hate and vitriol compared to Harvey Weinstein et al.)

When the reckoning comes, nobody is going to remember the name Ben Chew. They're going to remember the name Camille Vasquez.

And that would be the case even if Vasquez did her job during the trial and then shut up forever, but she didn't. She's basking in the attention she's gotten for this case, she's been doing it for over a year now. Taking selfies with Deppies outside the courtroom, making stupid "my dog stepped on a bee" tiktoks with other abusers, going to his garbage-ass concerts, and doing interview after interview after FUCKING interview, revealing more and more how underhanded her tactics were and how self-focused, mercenary and fucking cruel she is.

Does she think that none of this is going to come back to bite her in the ass? Does she think this hero worship is going to last forever? Or does she know it won't, and she's trying to enjoy it while it lasts?

[yuujispinkhair]

Alpha!Yuuji headcanons

A sweet anon sent me an ask wanting to know my thoughts about Alpha!Yuuji and my brain went grrr. Thank you!! I finally had an excuse to write about this strong and sexy Alpha with the sunshine smile and the knot so thick that it makes us sob ;) As you can see, I wrote this very shamelessly with my omega pussy lol but I hope my fellow Yuuji lovers can enjoy this self-indulgent piece too ;)

Pairing: Alpha!Yuuji x Omega!Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff, Omegaverse AU Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, omegaverse, smut, breeding, knotting, creampie, pregnancy, biting, a bit of rough sex when Yuuji is in a rut, slight lactation kink, praise, mentions of blood and scars. Yuuji has to kill to protect his pack. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Thank you for the star divider @/benkeibear. There is now fanart for this AU!! Thank you so much to @sandiaarts !!

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is the strongest Alpha in the city but never planned to become a leader. Until the former boss-Alpha dies and is succeeded by his cruel son, who puts the whole city under his reign of terror. That's when Yuuji's heroic instincts are triggered, and he decides to step up and claim the position as the ruling Alpha.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who you see for the first time during his fight for dominance in a back alley behind a nightclub where the packs are gathered to watch the fight that will decide who becomes their new leader. You get one look at this gorgeous pink-haired Alpha and already know he will win. Tall and buff, with firm muscles and a feral conviction in his golden eyes. A true Alpha!

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who wins the fight after just a few minutes. He lifts his face while pinning his opponent down, one hand on the man's head and one foot on his back. His golden eyes find you in the crowd, and you feel a shudder run through you, your Omega cunt slicking up just at the sight of this strong and brave Alpha. Your new leader, who you will submit to all too happily.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is so attractive with his boyish good looks and that muscular, powerful build. He has such a pretty sunshine smile but also such a broad, tall body packed with buff muscles. His skin is littered with scars that show the feral fighter he is, making him look so sexy and strong that it causes the most primal needs to awaken in you. You want to offer yourself to him, offer your slicked-up Omega cunt to him so he can breed you full of his strong pups.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who finds you later on in the nightclub, where you celebrate his victory. Who smiles sweetly when you congratulate him on his win. Who is so kind and easy to get along with despite how powerful he is. Who tells you he hates fighting, but since he is unfortunately very good at it, he thinks it's his duty to use his fists to protect the ones who are weaker than him.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who makes your Omega cunt throb with his words. All your primal instincts scream that you need this big, strong Alpha who is so brave and kind. You feel dizzy when you smell his enticing scent, filling your nostrils with its sexy, musky smell of wood and sunlight and the deep, rich aroma of ripe cherries. You gulp nervously as you tilt your head to look up at Yuuji's gorgeous face and see the same craving you feel mirrored in his golden eyes.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who mounts you only a few minutes later. Bending you over a table in the backroom of the nightclub, his pants and boxer briefs hastily pushed down while he ruts feverishly into you from behind. Riled up from the fight and exhilarated from the victory, needing to sink his Alpha cock into a willing slicked-up Omega cunt to come down again.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who fucks you like the leader that he is now. Who leans down to cage you between his big buff body and the table, interlacing his large fingers with your smaller ones while he fucks into you, making you cream again and again on his fat Alpha cock. His canines graze your skin as if he can hardly restrain himself from marking you as his mate right then and there.

+ Alpha Yuuji, who presses his nose against your neck and sniffs you, inhaling your scent hungrily and moaning against your neck, "Fuck. Fuck. You smell so good, baby." His big, heavy body shudders behind you while you feel him pulse his hot seed into you. And you know at that moment that you want to be his. That you want him to be your Alpha and your mate. You hope he will claim you one day!

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who doesn't pull out and leave after your needy fuck, like most new pack leaders would. Many of them would go from unmated Omega to unmated Omega to show them that the new Alpha has a right to take them now. But Yuuji stays with you. His big, broad body slumps against you, his muscular arms wrap around you, hugging you while he kisses your neck, sweet and caring. His seed and your slick run down your thighs in hot sticky rivulets, and your pussy twitches around his gorgeous thick cock, instinctively asking him for more, as if your Omega cunt is begging her Alpha to mate her and claim her for life.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who tells you that he needs to see you again when he finally pulls out of you. He turns you around, a large calloused hand cupping your chin tenderly, and he captures your lips in a sweet kiss before he lifts you up and places you on the table so he can clean your pussy with his loving mouth, taking proper care of you, moaning against your wet cunt how sweet of an Omega you are.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who keeps you close after that first night and makes an effort to get to know you. He buys you flowers and chocolates and asks you on dates, making sure to appreciate you and not just see you as a willing and breedable Omega but as a woman he cherishes and adores.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is such a good pack leader, kind and protective. He is so sweet to the little ones, playing with them and teaching them how to box so they can learn how to protect themselves. He also cares about the older members of the pack, telling them he looked after his sick grandpa for many years and, therefore, understands the struggles of the elderly and that they can always come to him and ask for help. He is a natural leader. A real Alpha. It makes him even more attractive in your eyes, and you catch yourself getting nice and slick for him anytime he is in the same room.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who makes your scent glands throb hotly anytime he fucks you, your body trying to lure him in, wordlessly signaling to him how bad you want to be his. How bad you want him to mate you. He growls brokenly anytime it happens and licks hungrily over your scent glands, making you cum instantly around his powerful Alpha cock.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is so sweet and caring that he tries to hold back as long as possible before he claims you. Who fucks his balls empty into your sweet Omega cunt and grunts and growls as he tries his best to stop himself from forcefully claiming you as his mate.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who kisses you in front of the nightclub that belongs to him now, smiling against your lips while his strong arms hold you so tightly, pulling you against his tall, buff body, offering you a feeling of safety you have never known before. He tells you he loves you while he holds you in his strong arms, and you almost cry from the happiness you feel.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who reaches his breaking point that night after you both confessed your love to each other and pushes his cock extra deep into you, letting you get a little taste of his knot, making you sob in need while he groans in your ear: "I want to mate you so bad, cutie. Want to make you my Omega. I can't hold back much longer, sweetie. Want to mate you and breed you and cherish you and give you my pups. Fuck... please let me mate you! Please be my Omega and my mate!"

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who waits for your consent even while his muscular body is shaking from the effort it takes to hold back before he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites you with a mating bite that hurts and arouses you at the same time.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who mounts you again to seal your bond with another load of his Alpha seed. He fucks you deep and feral, claiming his mate thoroughly, making sure you know how much he loves you and that he is yours now and you are his. He moans and growls and tells you he will give you his knot, will give you his everything for the rest of his life, while mounting you so hard and good that you see stars.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, whose knot is so big that you are worried you won't be able to take him when you feel the first swelling at his thick base. But Yuuji is such a caring Alpha and such a sweet mate. He soothes you with his low, sexy voice, whispering the sweetest praise to you while he prepares you thoroughly for his knot. He will give you his all, even if it takes hours to prepare you for his knot. He kisses you and rubs slow, tender circles around your swollen clit, loosening your cunt with several orgasms on his cock before he allows his knot to grow and plug you up.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who makes you mewl and orgasm instantly when you finally feel his fat knot plugging you up, claiming you as his alone while he moans I love you's in your ear. His calloused fingers rub your puffy clit, making you squirt over and over again on his fat knot while he pulses his hot seed into you, sealing your mating ritual with both of your cum.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who kisses you deeply and tells you how sweet and beautiful you are while he slowly slips out of you after a night spent mating you. You sigh happily, so content and happy that you found such a strong Alpha and such a caring mate. Yuuji stays with you for hours afterward, refusing to leave your side after such an intimate experience. He holds you tightly, lets you rest and sleep in his strong arms, safe and warm in your mate's embrace, knowing he will take care of you for the rest of his life.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is loved by his whole pack for his kindness and strength. A caring and protective Alpha. His large, calloused hands touch you with so much love and tenderness, but they can also deal the hardest punches against the ones who dare attack his pack. And if anyone tries to hurt his mate, Yuuji will see red and become a feral predator so powerful that his enemies will grovel before him and beg for mercy.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who won't start a fight without a reason. But he hunts down the ones who break the rules of peace and are cruel and dangerous to others. He kills if he has to, but it bothers him greatly to take a life, and he always seeks comfort and reassurance in your arms after every kill.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who comes back home to you after a deadly fight with bloody scratches all over his body, which will heal into a few more sexy scars that show his dominance and strength. There's a feral glint in his golden eyes, making them glow like two full moons, angry and unrelenting. The eyes of a powerful predator who was forced to unleash his fury against his enemies. A gaze that makes you moan and grab the bed sheets tightly, your legs instinctively falling open to present your panty-clad slick cunt to this strong Alpha in front of you.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who craves you badly after every kill. Who rips off his shirt and lets it fall to the ground, looking at you with that feral, primal need in his eyes while he opens his belt with one large hand, so riled up from the fight and ready to fuck his anger into the comforting wet heat of your sweet Omega cunt.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, whose buff body is bloody and sweaty from the fight. Veins standing out on his taut, flexed muscles. His fight triggered a rut, making his thick fat Alpha cock slap heavily against his firm abs when he frees himself from his trousers. The irresistible primal scent of his pheromones fills the whole room, making the slick run down your thighs even before Yuuji has laid a single finger on you.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who tears your soaked panties down, presses his face against your slick cunt, and growls wildly when he inhales your scent and licks up your sweet slick. He needs to fuck all his worries and anger into you. Needs you so bad to make things ok again. He growls a thank you after you tell him to let it all out on you, to fuck you as hard as he needs. "Don't hold back, Yuuji. I can take it. Fuck me as hard as you need, Alpha."

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who always fucks you harder after a kill. Using his strength on you and manhandling you with rough, calloused hands. He growls when he has you on all fours for him, with your cute ass in the air and legs spread, presenting him your pretty Omega cunt to claim and fuck. He groans behind you, low and feral, in full Alpha mode, giving your ass a hard slap as he splits you open around his fat cockhead.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who mounts you wild and hard, slapping your ass and fucking you with rough hard thrusts that go so deep that you howl with the most primal need and lust every time he ruts into you. He takes you in such a primal way, like an animal, hard and deep, while biting your neck and drooling all over your skin. He is so loud and feral, not holding back at all, fucking you unrelentingly from one orgasm to the next.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who only pulls out after he has exhausted himself completely, taking all his anger and pain out on your sweet, willing Omega cunt. You know that on those kinds of nights, he needs you to give him comfort, and so you pull him in your arms, hug him and cuddle him, and stroke his pretty pink hair, telling him he did the right thing and that you are so proud of him for protecting his pack. "You are such a good Alpha. And such a good man."

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who not only wants you as his mate, but also as his wife, giving you a double promise of always protecting and loving you. Now you wear his teeth imprint on your neck and a beautiful golden wedding band on your ring finger.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, whose need to breed is so strong that he practically begs you to please let him fuck his pups into you anytime he smells your heat approaching. Your fertile pussy always drives him insane, making him lick up your slick needily while shooting his first load all over the bedsheets and himself, unable to hold back with your sweet taste filling his mouth and nose.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is the happiest man ever, when you tell him you stopped taking your birth control. "I want your babies, Yuuji. Want to give you so many cute and strong pups, just like their daddy." And your man instantly has you under him, pinning you to the bed with his heavy, muscular body, snapping his hips furiously, shooting load after load into you while thanking you. "Thank you, baby, oh fuck, thank you so much! I will give you so many cute pups, my angel! Will fuck so many into you!"

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who always breeds you anytime he claims you, now that he knows you want his pups. He fucks to breed. He wants a whole litter of cute little pups with you. He moans and growls ferally into your ear while he mounts you from behind and fucks you with such savage, needy, and deep thrusts that he almost breaks the bed.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who loves to put you in a mating press with you all needy under his heavy buff body, your knees pressed to your tits while he bucks his hips ferally against you, going wild at the thought of his fat cock so deep in you.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who wants to knock you up so bad that he is in a permanent rut now, triggering your heat over and over again, making you so wet and horny for him that you can barely walk anymore.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who has so much stamina that when he knots you, his knot stays inside you all night. Slow rolls of his hips while he is in you balls-deep, shooting thick load after load of his hot fertile seed into you, his balls so big and heavy that they slap loudly against your slicked-up swollen clit, making you cum over and over again until you are delirious from it, babbling how much you need him, "Please, Yuu, please make me a mommy. Please gimme your pups, baby."

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who hugs you in his strong, buff arms and kisses your neck and lips lovingly while his knot is throbbing in you and plugging you up to keep his hot, fertile seed deep in you, breeding his sweet wife so thoroughly while praising you the whole time. "Look at you taking my knot so well. Fuck, I love you so much, cutie. I can't wait to see your belly so big and swollen with our pups. You'll be such a beautiful mommy."

+ Alpha!Yuuji, whose seed is strong and fertile and takes immediately. He smiles brightly at you and hugs you tightly when you tell him you are pregnant. He goes out to buy materials to build a cradle immediately, so eager and excited to start his family with you. And then repeats the same thing a few weeks later when you find out he fucked twins into you on the first try.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is always very protective but gets even worse when you carry his pups in you. Who growls at everyone who comes too close to you, always ensuring his mate and pups are safe. Who leaves his scent all over you to keep potential threats away.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who goes feral when your belly grows. He loves you so much, and it drives him crazy with lust and love to see that he successfully bred you, making you round and big with his pups, with his strong and chubby babies. It makes Yuuji so hard to see you like that. He has to take you every night while he caresses your belly and kneads your swollen tits, already milking a bit of milk out of them that he hungrily licks up.

+ Alpha! Yuuji, who pulls out of your cunt and cums all over your swollen belly because the sight turns him on so much.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who kisses and licks you clean afterward before he rests his head on your belly and talks to his little ones, telling them how much their mommy and daddy love them. And he looks up at you with those gleaming golden eyes full of love and tells you, "And I also love you so much, baby. Thank you for being my mate and my wife. I am so lucky!"

+ Alpha!Yuuji, whose genes are very dominant, so all your pups will have his pink hair. But you definitely don't mind because it looks so cute when your twins are born with a soft tuft of pink hair on their little heads! Your pups are two big, strong boys with chubby thighs and cheeks and loud voices. Strong, just like their daddy.

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who is such a proud mate and daddy. He never gets tired of spending time with his wife and his little ones. He gets up in the middle of the night to feed and cuddle his little boys so his sweet wife can rest. He carries the twins around in his strong arms, showing them off all proudly with a big happy smile on his face, cooing at them, playing with them, and petting their pink hair. And you watch him with happy tears in your eyes, so happy that you found such a good Alpha and loving husband!

+ Alpha!Yuuji, who beams at you and pulls you against his buff, tall body to kiss you thoroughly. Who doesn't let you go again because his heart feels so full and his cock is already swelling again, knowing that you are such a good mommy and such a sweet mate. He needs to bend you over the nearest surface and mount you again until your cute Omega cunt is stuffed with his fertile seed again, making more cute little pink-haired pups with the love of his life.

FUCKKKKK HE MAKES ME FERAL!! I don't know why, but there is something about Yuuji that fits Omegaverse so well, in my opinion. My head is spinning!!! Thank you so much, dear anon, for sending me this ask! When I wrote my Sukuna Omegaverse story, I already low-key wanted to write for Yuuji (and Megumi) too, and you motivated me to do so!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked Alpha!Yuuji and enjoyed this sexy little story!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Tags: Angst, Found Family, Dark Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Drama, Unreliable Narrators.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mentions of Emotional Neglect, Pregnancy Complications, Nightmare Imagery.

A/N: The mystery Hunk is finally here! We’re diving headfirst into the start of an alternate ending I had previously intended for this fic mid first scene, so buckle up. I promised this chapter wouldn’t have funny bits, but apparently, Mystery Hunk had other plans. Also, the husbands will be getting an earful of their own shit. If you’re here for cursed energy-infused pregnancy drama and Mystery Hunk stealing hearts with his black cat husband energy while side-eyeing Karens, you’re in the right place, and yes, he’s stealing the spotlight unapologetically. Let me know in the comments: Is he the best worst fake husband ever?

Previous Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone mocking, dangerous.

You glared at him, removing the scarf from your mouth, your movements jerky, your hands trembling as you shoved both their hands off you. “Don’t touch me.” You tried to stand.

The effort was futile—your legs buckled, and you sank back down. Pain radiated from your swollen belly, grotesque.

Their gazes dropped to your stomach, the sheer size of it impossible to ignore, finally noticing what you’d been trying to hide.

Even at just five and a half months, your uterus had already distended to a grotesque parody of its former shape. The two tornadoes brewing inside you made you look eight months pregnant, their relentless growth stretching your abdominal wall to its limits. Your stomach bulged outward, a taut and swollen orb that seemed to strain against the confines of your skin, as if the very fabric of your body was being slowly, inexorably torn apart from the inside out.

Nanami’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

Gojo’s expression cracked, his six eyes glowing faintly as they locked onto your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The twins squirmed beneath their stares, sending sharp jolts of pain through your abdomen. You bit your lip, refusing to show weakness, to clutch your belly, even as your body betrayed you.

You didn’t dignify their obvious revelation with a response, focusing instead on pulling yourself upright. Every attempt to rise felt monumental, the strain making your head swim, but you managed to straighten up, your breathing ragged. Their awkward, hesitant hands reached toward you, only for you to glare them down.

They stood there, helpless, as you hobbled past them toward the living room. Each step felt like dragging yourself uphill in a storm, the strain making your vision blur. By the time you reached the couch, you were shaking so badly that you had to clutch the back of a chair for balance. Lowering yourself onto the cushions was its own Herculean task, the pain so intense you had to bite back a scream. Your hand moved instinctively to your belly, rubbing slow, trembling circles over the taut, aching skin.

You spoke low but firm, “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Nanami replied, his voice firm but strained, his face a storm of conflict. “You’re pregnant, my love. You didn’t even tell us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “What’s there to tell? It’s just a medical condition, right?”

“At least lie better,” Gojo said, his tone mocking as his eyes lingered on your stomach, then continued, “Although I thought you had had a hysterectomy?”

Nanami’s hand twitched; his jaw tightened at Gojo’s casual demeanor. “Don’t.”

Your anger flared, the months of humiliation and abandonment clawing their way to the surface. “Don’t what? Diminish it? You mean like you two diminished me?”

You had deduced earlier that Gojo’s RCT might have detected your lack of a uterus and classified it as an error, then corrected the said error. Or perhaps it was Nanami’s RCT’s doing, considering he could now heal himself and was immune to attacks like fire since becoming a special grade. Although as far as you knew they couldn’t heal people but it might have changed when they would have been inside you. You didn’t care to find out any more, and you certainly wouldn’t let them in on it.

The words hit like a slap, the air between you crackling with tension.

“It’s none of your business,” you spat, your voice shaking with rage.

“None of our business?” Nanami’s voice was low, his usual calm cracking. “We’re your—”

“You’re nothing to me anymore,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true,” Gojo flinched as if struck, his voice breaking in a way like it was about him, making you hate him more. “We—”

“You abandoned me!” The words tore from your chest before you could stop them. “You left me alone for months! You laughed, you fucked each other, then posted all your OMG-I’m-so-in-love photos online for my employees to stare at and give me looks of sympathy. While... while I sat there and died inside!”

“You left without telling us!” Gojo’s voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

“And you didn’t notice for six weeks!” You yelled, your voice breaking. “You were too busy fucking each other to even see me! I could have been tortured, raped, killed and buried long ago with evidence wiped, but you both were too busy fucking each other to see me!”

Gojo’s expression twisted, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any accusation. “We didn’t know how to reach you. We thought you needed space.”

“Space?” You laughed again, the sound hollow. “You gave me space to suffocate. 

Nanami visibly recoiled, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “We made a mistake—”

“Mistake?” You cut him off, your voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “Mistakes don’t last for months. Mistakes don’t make someone feel so invisible they disappear. Mistakes don’t force someone to flee halfway across the world just to fucking breathe! You think I’ll forgive you just because you decided to find me now?” You huffed and continued, “Well, guess what? I learned to live without you two a long time before I left, so why don’t you both go fuck each other some more and leave me alone!”

Gojo spoke softly, inching to touch you. “We’re here. We care about you.”

“Care?” You laughed bitterly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “You humiliated me. Your stunt at my office nearly destroyed everything I’ve built. Do you think anyone respects a CEO whose husbands storm her building and beat up her employees?”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. Gojo opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“And let’s not forget the internet is a circus, and you’re the clowns.,” you hissed, your voice shaking, ears burning with humiliation. “I’m being dragged into the spotlight for something I never wanted public. All because of you. They’re calling me a sexual deviant and undermining everything I have ever done while simultaneously thirsting over you two, because, of course, men don’t get the same treatment. #TwoHolesForAReason is still trending. What the actual fuck, Nanami? You too?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and despair, and your breathing grew heavier, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest. The injustice of it all clawed at you, the betrayal stinging sharper than any physical wound. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless as the world turned your life into a spectacle, and the very people you loved were at the center of it.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “We were wrong. We should have been there for you. We should have…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.”

You could see the guilt etched on their faces, the way they shifted uncomfortably, as if your words were a physical weight pressing down on them.

“Tell me,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “did you even think about me when you were together? Did I ever cross your minds?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he looked at Nanami, a silent plea for understanding passing between them, but Nanami kept staring at your stomach. The moment stretched, and you could feel the desperation radiating from them, but it only fueled your anger.

“Don’t look at him,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You both made this choice together. You both decided I was expendable.” The image of Gojo grabbing Nanami’s pecks mid-fight at your company came to your mind, and you resisted the urge to bash his head in.

Nanami’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. “We were selfish,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. 

Gojocut him off, his hands trembling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “We love you.”

“You love each other,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, breaking. “And I was just... there. An afterthought. An inconvenience.”

Silence.

Nanami stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, but you shrank further. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us help.”

Gojo stepped forward, his hands outstretched, but you recoiled, the instinct to protect yourself overwhelming. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel sympathy. Not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh, still bleeding.

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 1.1)

“You heard her.”

The voice from the doorway made you freeze.

Sukuna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. His grin was sharp, dangerous, and entirely out of place in your tiny apartment.

“And who the hell are you?” Gojo snapped, his six eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “None of your concern. But unlike you two, I don’t barge into her life uninvited.”

Nanami stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re upsetting her,” Sukuna said, his tone light but edged with menace. His crimson eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You good, princess?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. Just… please get them out of here, Ryo.”

The way you said his name weakly made Sukuna straighten, his grin turning feral as he rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “You heard her. Time to go.”

Gojo stepped toward Sukuna, his grin tight, his energy shifting. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Sukuna cut him off by closing the gap in a single step, towering over him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Nanami's shoulders squared, his gaze calculating. “Leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between them, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m here because she wants you out. Seems like it’s very much my concern.”

Gojo rolled his shoulders, the first hints of tension seeping into his movements. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. She’s our wife. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Both your wife. Eww, Sukuna grimaced.

Before Sukuna could continue berating them, Nanami moved. His fist lashed out, aimed for Sukuna’s jaw.

Sukuna caught it with an open palm, the force reverberating through the room.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” Sukuna said, voice maniacal, before pushing Nanami’s fist just enough to force him to step back.

Gojo lunged, his speed almost imperceptible, but Sukuna sidestepped him lazily, his movements fluid. “Do you two always resort to fists first?”

“Do you always waltz into someone else’s business uninvited?” Nanami countered, already throwing another strike.

You tried to rise, your voice strained. “Stop—”

Your attempt was cut off by a sharp, tearing pain in your abdomen. A cry escaped your lips as your hands instinctively cradled your belly.

Nanami faltered mid-punch, his head snapping toward you. “She’s in pain. Gojo, stop!”

Gojo hesitated, his fists lowering as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Sukuna moved before either of them could, crossing the room in a few steps. He knelt in front of you, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“May I?” He asked, his voice calm.

You nodded weakly, unable to muster the energy to speak.

Sukuna’s hand moved to your belly, his palm warm against the strained skin. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as his RCT began to work. The relief was almost immediate, the tightness easing as the twins’ restless movements stilled.

Nanami stepped towards you, his fists clenched. “Get your hands off her.”

Sukuna didn’t look up, his focus entirely on you. “She needs this. Or would you rather let her suffer while you two throw tantrums?”

Gojo bristled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” Sukuna replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not the one who left her to deal with this alone.”

That struck a nerve.

You let out a shaky breath, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna pulled his hand away. “Better?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

Sukuna stood, his movements unhurried as he turned to face the two men. “She’s carrying enough weight without you two adding to it. If you really care about her, prove it by doing something useful. Like fucking off.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Gojo and Nanami glared at him, their fists tightening at their sides.

Before Gojo could move, Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Enough. This isn’t good for her.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t resist.

“We’ll be back,” Nanami said, his gaze steady as it locked onto yours. His voice was low, carrying both regret and resolve.

Sukuna snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

Without another word, they turned and left.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence rushed in, oppressive and heavy.

Sukuna turned back to you, his expression softening. “You need to rest.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay?”

He smiled faintly, taking a seat next to you on the couch with respectable space between you two.

Your head swam, a sudden wave of dizziness taking hold. They were coming more frequently now, spells that left you breathless and trembling.

But before you could fall off the couch on your head, Sukuna was there, one of his large, calloused hands wrapping securely around your upper arm. The heat of his touch grounded you as he guided you carefully to the other side of the couch.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. The sharp edge was still there, but muted, like a blade sheathed. “You don’t need to waste energy on those idiots.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips as you wiped your eyes, though it sounded more like a gasp. “They’re not idiots. They’re just… pain in my ass.”

His eyebrow arched, he chuckled, the sound warm. “Could’ve fooled me. Barging in here like they own the damn place. If it were me—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head even as your hand trembled against the couch cushion. “I don’t need more madness, Sukuna.”

His grin softened, though it didn’t lose its devil-may-care quality. “Fair enough. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this. They’re not going to stop just because you want them to.”

“I know,” you whispered, barely audible, as your hands cradled your belly. The motion was protective, almost subconscious, as you rubbed soothing circles on it.

His sharp crimson eyes followed the movement, narrowing as they settled on the curve of your stomach. “You gonna tell me the truth now?”

Your throat tightened, the walls closing in as panic tried to claw its way to the surface. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m not here to judge. Just saying, if you need someone to run interference, I’m your guy.”

You blinked at him, your heart hammering as you searched his expression. “Why are you helping me?” You asked, the words trembling in the air.

His grin returned, sly and self-assured as always. “Because it pisses them off. And because I like you, princess. Not in a ‘love thy neighbor’ way, but in a ‘let me take you on a date’ way. You’ve got guts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky and wet with leftover tears but real nonetheless. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Anytime.” He shifted, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, though the movement seemed deliberate, protective. “Now, what’s the plan? Because those two aren’t going to stop sniffing around just because I scared them off.”

You let your head fall back, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, heavier than ever. “I don’t know. I just need... time.”

“Then time’s what we’ll give you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Let me handle the sorcerer boy band.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope.

-

Sukuna didn’t waste time. The same night, after Gojo and Nanami showed up, he had you telling him what you wanted packed. His demeanor calm, though his crimson eyes burned with quiet determination.

“We’ll leave at midnight,” he said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed. “New place, new names.”

You hesitated. “Sukuna, this is… too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin not unkind. “It’s not. They’re sorcerers, princess. And the strongest too, but not stronger than me.” His tone was laced with a smug confidence. “If you want to stay hidden, you don’t half-ass it.”

By dawn, you were in another country; your new apartment was upscale and screamed money, but it was cozy too. The marble floors, high ceilings, and soft leather couches were a far cry from your tiny space.

Sukuna waved off your questions about how he’d managed it all so quickly, his smirk the only answer you’d get. He had taken care of everything—paperwork, flights, even a fake backstory in case anyone asked too many questions.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, tossing you the keys. “Welcome to your new life, and just enjoy the upgrade.” He lounged on your new couch, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

He refused to leave your side, and you didn’t argue. It was a relief to have him there, especially since you were certain they would show up eventually. Also, you needed someone around, not just for protection but also because you weren’t exactly the icon of flexpertise right now. The morning sickness and dizzy spells had become a regular part of your day, making even simple tasks feel daunting. Plus, he could help pick things up from the floor and assist you when you needed it. His RCT would also come in handy if you got sick.

The following days blurred into one another, Sukuna taking charge in ways that left you both grateful and unsettled. He was relentless, managing everything from your meals to your prenatal vitamins.

One day he dragged you somewhere the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets as Sukuna pulled you along, his grip firm yet gentle around your arm. You could feel the heat radiating from the pavement, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and street food. It was a stark contrast to the anxiety swirling in your chest.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing around nervously. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone who recognized you from the controversy that had followed you like a shadow. The thought of being exposed made your stomach churn, the twins inside you shifting restlessly in response to your unease.

Sukuna paused, turning to face you, his crimson eyes piercing yet reassuring. “Trust me. No one will recognize you here.” He flashed a grin, the kind that made your heart race despite the worry gnawing at you. “Besides, I’ll be your husband today. No one will question us.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Husband? What if someone asks questions?”

“Then I’ll just tell them I’m the luckiest man alive,” he replied smoothly, his tone playful. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if anyone gets too nosy, they’ll be disposed off.”

You thought he was just joking at the last bit, but little did you know he was serious.

You couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, even as a flutter of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “You really think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” he said, resuming his pace, his hand still firmly guiding you by the arm. “You need to get out, meet other birthgivers, and enjoy this experience. It’s good for you and the brats.”

As you approached the community center, the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft strumming of a guitar. The vibrant colors of the decorations and the cheerful atmosphere were infectious, but your nerves still danced beneath the surface.

Sukuna opened the door for you, his demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority as he ushered you inside. The room was filled with expectant mothers, some cradling their bellies, others bouncing babies in their arms, some even with their partners. You felt a pang of envy at their ease, their confidence radiating like the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“See? Just regular people,” Sukuna said, his voice low and steady as he scanned the room. “You’ll fit right in.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“Your mask won’t let them. And if someone does recognize you, I’ll tell them you just look like the CEO, but you have been my wife and have never been to Japan,” he replied, his tone light but firm. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure they forget they ever saw you.”

His confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly as he led you to a circle. He settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight. As the instructor began to speak, you felt Sukuna’s hand rest on your knee, a grounding touch that eased the tension in your body.

After a brief round of introductions, the instructor clapped her hands, her voice that chipper mix of optimism and oblivion. “Alright, everyone, before we start our poses, let’s share a bit about our experiences as parents! Who’d like to go first?”

Sukuna leaned back, arms draped lazily over his knees, his smirk sharp enough to slice through the tension. “I’ll go,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “So there we were—me and my lovely wife—on a little trip to the beach. You know, just a casual day in the sun.”

The other mothers leaned in, their eyes sparkling with interest, while their husbands shot daggers at Sukuna, their expressions a mix of envy and irritation. He was tall, muscular, and exuded an effortless charm that made him the center of attention. You could practically feel the heat radiating from the glares directed at him, but Sukuna seemed unfazed, basking in the admiration like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Of course, I had to carry her to the water,” he continued, gesturing dramatically. “She was so heavy with those twins, I thought I might need a forklift!” Laughter erupted from the mothers, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Turning back to you, his expression triumphant. “So, I heroically carried her through the waves, and she screamed like a banshee when the water hit her feet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “I did not scream like a banshee!” you protested, but the laughter bubbling up made it hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you did,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I was the brave knight saving you from the evil ocean.”

“Look at him,” one mother whispered to her friend, her eyes sparkling. “He’s like a model or something!”

“Right? And he’s so sweet with her,” her friend replied, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and envy.

Soft giggles bubbled through the room, accompanied by fluttering lashes and whispers. Sukuna exuded a kind of dangerous magnetism.

One mom whispered too loudly, “He’s like... a walking romance novel,” her husband coughing pointedly beside her.

Sukuna caught the comment and scowled. “Eyes up front, lady,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed but not surprised. When another woman blatantly winked, he leaned closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist with exaggerated intimacy. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cooed, voice low enough for only you to hear. “These vultures are giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him off.

The instructor spoke. “Okay! Let’s get into couples’ poses. First, the trust fall!”

Sukuna stood, cracking his neck like he was prepping for a fight. You shot him a warning glance. “Don’t drop me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

As you leaned back, trusting his arms to catch you, another mom muttered something about his “strong, capable hands.” Sukuna sighed, catching you effortlessly before twirling you upright with unnecessary flair. “Keep staring, and I might start charging admission,” he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and smugness.

“I got one more.” He didn’t wait for approval, because, of course, he didn’t. “So there we were, me and my beloved wife”—his crimson eyes flicked to you with a smirk that screamed chaos—“on a romantic hike in the wilderness. Out of nowhere, she decides to wrestle a goat because it wouldn’t let her pet it.”

The room froze. A couple of moms paused mid-stretch, their jaws dropping like they’d just heard the start of a soap opera. The dads exchanged side-eyes that translated roughly to, Who the hell is this guy?

“And, naturally,” Sukuna continued, his voice syrupy with faux affection, “I couldn’t let her handle it alone. She’s fearless, sure, but not exactly built for a one-on-one with livestock.”

“Oh my god,” you hissed under your breath, digging your nails into your mat. “Stop lying.”

Sukuna ignored you, gesturing dramatically like he was recounting a battle for survival. “So I stepped in, took down the goat, and carried her—my delicate, fragile wife—back to safety.” His grin widened, exposing sharp canines. “All in a day’s work.”

A collective sigh swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and blatant swooning. One mom muttered, “That’s so... romantic.” Another just stared, eyes tracing the veins in his forearms like she was drafting fan fiction in real time.

The dads? All glaring, but none of them dared to say a word. Sukuna, at 6’6” with biceps that looked capable of cracking skulls, radiated the kind of energy that said, Try me. I dare you.

“Alright, Romeo,” you muttered, elbowing him. “Enough.”

Before he could retort, a woman in leopard print, Karen—yes, she had the haircut and everything—stood up, arms crossed and nose wrinkled like she smelled bullshit.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice whiney, “but that story sounds ridiculous. And frankly, this is a yoga class, not open mic night.”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. “Oh? Didn’t realize we had a fact-checker in the room.”

Karen puffed up, undeterred. “I just think it’s important to set a good example for our kids. You’re just trying to make yourself look good in front of all these women. What kind of husband are you, anyway? And lying—”

“Lying?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone dangerously sweet. “I don’t lie, sweetheart. Some of us just have a sense of humor. You want proof? I’ll take you hiking. Maybe you’ll end up wrestling a goat too.”

Karen crossed her arms with a smug smile on her face and leaned in with a condescending tone. “So, what exactly makes you think you’re qualified to be a husband? I mean, can you even handle a simple pregnancy without making a joke out of it?”

Sukuna’s voice dripped with mock sincerity. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a terrible husband. I should’ve let her handle the goat alone, huh? Really prove her mettle.” His smile dropped as he deadpanned, “Maybe next time, I’ll wrestle your husband instead.”

The room went silent, save for a muffled snort from someone in the back. Karen’s husband, who had been trying to become one with the floor, suddenly found the need to tie his shoelaces.

“Well, no real husband would let his wife wrestle a goat. And clearly, this yoga class is for serious parents, not... posers. Some of us treat the miracle of life with the respect it deserves. I mean, she probably got pregnant out of wedlock, and you’re probably the chump who got stuck with it,” she spat, her eyes narrowing as she regarded you with open disdain.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna stood up, towering over her with an intimidating presence. The air crackled with tension as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and menacing.

“For the final time, I. AM. HER. HUSBAND. The kind who’s here to support his wife, unlike some people,” he said, his tone dripping with a dangerous edge. The room fell silent, the other husbands shifting uncomfortably, their glares intensifying as they sensed the storm brewing.

“Back off, lady,” one of the husbands muttered, clearly not wanting to get involved but unable to resist the urge to defend his pregnant wife.

Karen’s husband made a strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a plea for help. Sukuna glanced at him, sizing him up like he was calculating the time it’d take to fold him into a yoga block. “You good over there, champ?”

The instructor, visibly sweating, clapped her hands again. “Okay, time for the next pose, the Partner Downward Dog! Let’s channel all that energy into our health!”

Sukuna groaned, muttering under his breath, “This woman and her yoga cult...” He shot a glance at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You good to do this, or do I have to carry you like the delicate little penguin you are?”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, already struggling to maneuver your cumbersome body into position. Your stomach felt stretched beyond reason, and every movement brought a new kind of discomfort.

Sukuna was behind you in an instant, his large hands steadying your hips. His touch was firm but not rough, a quiet kind of reassurance he’d never acknowledge. “Alright, lean forward. I’ve got you.”

You could feel his gaze linger—not on the curve of your belly but lower. “Are you ogling my ass?”

“Shut up and focus on not falling,” he grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

The instructor clapped again, her forced cheerfulness grating. “Great job, everyone! Now, onto the partner wheelbarrow pose.” 

You groaned, already dreading it. Sukuna, however, was unfazed. He easily lifted your legs, holding you steady as you awkwardly braced your arms on the mat.

Karen, the reigning queen of unsolicited advice, determined to assert dominance. “You’re supposed to engage your core more,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Sukuna didn’t even glance at her. “You’re supposed to shut up, Karen.”

She gasped. “My name is not…How dare you—”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna set you down and stood, cracking his knuckles. “Focus on your own yoga or let’s take this outside, or are you gonna send your husband?”

Karen sputtered, her face turning red as her husband tugged nervously at her sleeve. Now actively sweating. “Uh, babe, maybe let it go.”

Karen turned on him. “Are you scared of him?!”

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped on him.

“...Okay.” He shrank back, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, the instructor was frantically flipping through her clipboard. “Uh, next pose! Let’s try... uh, partner flying boat!”

Sukuna raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Flying what now?”

“Just lift me,” you muttered, too tired to argue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed your hands and hoisted you into the air. The ease with which he balanced you on his feet was almost insulting. He looked up at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a show-off,” you grumbled, though the slight flutter in your chest betrayed you.

Behind you, Karen tripped over her mat again because her husband was clumsy, landing face-first with a muffled shriek.

Sukuna grinned, all teeth. “Careful, Karen. Wouldn’t want your husband to have to wrestle me over that.”

Her husband? Already halfway out the door.

He didn’t stop there. With unnecessary flair, he spun you around, earning gasps from the other moms. “He’s so strong,” one whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

“I can hear you,” Sukuna said sharply, his glare cutting through the room like a knife. “Eyes off.”

The mom in question flushed, looking away quickly. Even Karen seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

When Sukuna finally set you down, his hands lingered on your arms, steadying you. “Alright, you’re done for today,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you protested weakly, already too exhausted to stand.

“I just did,” he shot back, his voice softer than usual as he guided you to sit. His attention was back on you, the rest of the room forgotten. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning against him. Despite his gruffness, you couldn’t deny the safety his presence brought.

Throughout the class, Sukuna was incredibly attentive, fetching water for you whenever you needed it and ensuring you stayed focused. You found yourself laughing openly after months, his unhinged stories and sassy comments bringing a lightness to the atmosphere. He reminded you of Megumi’s dad from years ago, the way he openly showed affection to Megumi’s mom. You couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing after his father passed away long before you reconnected with Megumi in college. The last you heard, his father had left a substantial sum to his mom to start their security solutions business, which Megumi had been managing while also pursuing his psychology degree.

He was quite a few years younger than you, and despite the years of no contact, he had come through for you when you needed him. But you couldn’t reach him now; he had a knack for tracking people down like his father. You remembered Megumi’s frustration when you had to leave your home country to marry the two men. He had been openly against your decision ever since he met them—he could warm up to Nanami, but Gojo? Marrying two men? That was a different story entirely. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you realized how much you missed your college friends.

As you watched Sukuna’s antics, a swell of gratitude filled your heart. His unwavering support was a comforting presence, even as the reality of your situation loomed in the background.

After the class, as you stepped outside into the warm sunlight, Sukuna turned to you, a satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your earlier anxiety. “No, it was actually… nice.”

“Good. We’ll keep doing this,” he said, his tone resolute. “You need to enjoy this time, and I’ll make sure you do.”

As you walked back, the warmth of the sun on your skin and Sukuna’s presence beside you, you felt better. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this new life, one day at a time.

A couple of days later, the hum of your laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional clack of your nails on the keyboard. Deadlines loomed, projects needed greenlighting, and your inbox was a battlefield of investors, board members, and department heads vying for your attention. You weren’t just the CEO of your company—you were the company. And even now, with your back aching and your feet swollen beyond recognition, you were determined to stay on top of it all.

Then, of course, Sukuna had to barge in.

“Are you seriously still working?” he drawled, leaning an arm against the door frame with that maddeningly smug look on his face.

You didn’t bother looking up. “I’m busy.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to take a damn break,” he said, stalking into the room like a cat ready to knock something valuable off the table.

You scoffed, glancing at him over the rim of your blue lens glasses. “I can’t just stop working. This company doesn’t run itself.”

“Funny, I thought you hired executives for that,” he shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“They still need me.”

Sukuna crossed the room in two strides, towering over you like a thundercloud. Before you could react, he reached down and unplugged your laptop with a decisive click.

“Hey!” you protested, scrambling to grab the cord, but he was faster. With infuriating ease, he tossed the power adapter onto a high shelf you had no hope of reaching in your current penguin state.

“What the hell, Sukuna?”

“Watch me,” he said, smirking. “Your job is to grow those little gremlins, not work yourself into the ground.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. The exhaustion hit like a freight train, your body sagging into the chair as if it finally realized it had permission to rest. Your glare softened, replaced by a quiet sigh of defeat. “I can’t just... stop,” you muttered, weaker now.

“You can,” he countered, crouching to meet your eye level. His voice was softer this time, the sharp edges smoothed out. “The company will survive without you for a few months. You? Not so much if you keep this up.”

He had a point, damn him.

“I still need to make arrangements,” you mumbled, leaning back and pressing a hand to your belly. The twins kicked in response, as if to echo his sentiment.

“Then make them,” Sukuna said, standing up and pulling your ergonomic gaming chair—he had gotten you one in your fav color—away from the desk with a gentle tug. “But from the couch. And only after you’ve eaten something.”

You wanted to argue, but the idea of sinking into the cushions and delegating for once was too tempting. “Fine,” you relented, glaring half-heartedly as you stood. “But only because you’re being annoying.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, penguin.” His smirk widened as he helped you waddle toward the couch, ignoring your threats of retaliation.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt a little lighter knowing he was right there to catch you when you needed to let go.

The pregnancy itself felt alien. Your body, once familiar, now seemed foreign, stretched to the limits of what it could endure. Veins stood out like rivers on a map, and your skin itched with a ferocity that no cream could soothe. At night, under dim lights, you swore you saw the twins moving just beneath the surface, shapes pressing against your belly as if testing the boundaries of their world.

But when you spoke to them, the chaos stilled. Your voice, soft and uncertain, seemed to reach them in a way nothing else could. “You’re being good today,” you murmured one evening, your hand rubbing olive oil on the tight curve of your stomach. The twins stirred beneath your touch, a gentle nudge pressing against your palm as though answering your unspoken thoughts. Tears welled in your eyes as a fragile smile tugged at your lips. You blinked them away.

From the doorway, Sukuna watched, arms crossed and face unreadable. His presence was always imposing, even when he wasn’t trying to be, but tonight there was something almost tentative about the way he lingered.

“They listen to you,” he said finally, his tone an odd mix of observation and something softer, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt too delicate to break with words.

Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, his steps heavy but measured as he crossed the room. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the chair, shaking it out with a flick of his wrist before tucking it carefully over you. His hands moved with an ease that belied his usual brashness, adjusting the pregnancy pillows he’d insisted on buying—three of them, because one wasn’t enough, apparently.

You watched him as he worked, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. He paused when he caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

He snorted, clearly not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he stepped back, as if retreating to a safe distance.

“Sukuna,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He stopped, half-turned toward the door.

“Do you want to feel them?” You gestured to your belly, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

His reaction was instant and comically transparent. His shoulders stiffened, and his crimson eyes darted to your stomach like it might explode. “What? No. Why would I want to do that?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Because they’re your kids, oh faux husband?”

“They’re your kids,” he shot back, his voice gruff, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning a faint shade of pink.

You laughed, low and amused. “You’re scared.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but the defensive edge in his tone only confirmed it.

You pressed, grinning now. “Big bad Sukuna, terrified of a couple of unborn gremlins?”

He glared, sulking. “I’m not scared. I just... don’t see the point.”

“Right.” You patted the space next to you on the bed. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

He hesitated, looking like you’d asked him to stick his hand into a nest of vipers. But after a moment, he moved closer, his movements awkward and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Here,” you said, taking his hand and placing it gently on your ginormous stomach. His palm was warm and rough against your skin, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Soon, a tiny kick met his hand, tentative but unmistakable.

Sukuna froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, the briefest flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face.

“They’re saying hi,” you teased, your voice soft.

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering, “Yeah, well, tell them to keep it down.”

You laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made his scowl deepen. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on you, softer now, as if the weight of the moment had settled somewhere he desperately wanted to acknowledge.

After ensuring you were comfortable, he retreated to his usual spot in the next room. You heard the creak of his bed as he settled in, close enough to hear you if you called out. The bed wasn’t weak; he was just a giant sequoia tree.

Later that night, when the nightmares came—vivid and merciless—you woke trembling; the images of Gojo’s cold eyes and Nanami’s unforgiving hands lingered, still fresh in your mind, as though they were still in the room. Sukuna was there before you could fully sit up, his hands steady on your shoulders.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

When your breaths came shallow and quick, he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat with you, his presence solid and grounding as the panic ebbed.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone gruff but edged with a care he’d never admit. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Even when his hands trembled just the faintest bit from exhaustion, you knew he wouldn’t let go. You noticed his long nails were filed down now.

His care was relentless, though not without its abrasive edges. He harassed you to eat, to drink water, to rest. When you tried to push back, his response was always the same: “Argue all you want, princess, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. You felt a sense of comfort in that. Your actual husbands, the fathers of your babies, had abandoned you months ago, while this man—who had no obligations to you—loved you as easily as breathing. You could see it in the way he ensured everything was always within reach for you, even when he wasn’t around. If you asked him for water fifteen times in a night, he’d fetch it for you every single time, despite his fatigue. He’d grumble and yell, but he’d still bring it to you without fail.

He hadn’t even mentioned the date he wanted since that day; he gave you the space you needed until you were ready. He did all of this for you without asking for anything in return. Even when you felt like a human submarine, he found ways to compliment you in his own unique manner, while your husbands had long ignored your existence, even before your pregnancy. You felt desirable, but right now, you simply didn’t have the energy to reciprocate anything.

One day the air in the apartment was stifling, even with the ocean breeze teasing the edges of the balcony curtains. You leaned against the railing, letting the salt-tinged wind kiss your skin. Sukuna was out, and for a few minutes, you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the ocean breeze, to imagine a life where your past couldn’t find you.

Then you saw them.

Gojo’s stark white hair caught the light first, gleaming like a ghost under the streetlamp’s glow. His figure was impossible to miss, a beacon of anarchy, while Nanami’s shoulders were squared, his sharp gaze cutting through the night like a blade, locking onto you with unrelenting sharpness. His arm rose, a silent gesture to Gojo, and together they moved, their silhouettes bleeding from the street into your sanctuary like shadows with intent.

You immediately grabbed your phone.

Ryo: Please come home fast.

The knock was more a warning than a courtesy. Gojo didn’t wait for permission; the door swung open with an ease that felt invasive, wrong. They stepped inside, their presence heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself recoiled from their arrival.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice unnervingly calm. The cocky lilt you knew so well was gone, replaced by something jagged, something that cut.

Nanami’s eyes drifted downward, catching the curve of your stomach. His brows furrowed, confusion twisting into something darker as a ripple moved beneath your skin. It wasn’t subtle—an inhuman and ugly stretch, limbs pressing outward like trapped spirits testing the walls of their cage. You cursed yourself for wearing a crop top, but nothing else fit you these days, and it was too warm here in Schelles. His gaze snapped back to your face, but the damage was done. You saw it: the revulsion, the disbelief.

The air between the three of you crackled, silent but electric. Gojo’s eyes were locked onto yours, an ocean of emotions churning beneath the surface—rage, fear, something almost resembling grief.

“What’s going on?” Nanami finally asked, his voice tight, controlled, but teetering on the edge.

Your throat burned as you swallowed, the words threatening to choke you. Still, you forced yourself to stand straighter, your nails digging crescents into your palms. “Fine. You want the truth?” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “They’re Sukuna’s. I’m pregnant with his twins, and since he’s half a curse, so are they.”

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Gojo’s grin faltered, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Nanami’s face was a study in restraint, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed him.

“You’re lying,” Gojo said, his voice low and icy.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Why would I lie? You ignored me. You left me in a country where I didn’t even understand the language. Sukuna didn’t. He took care of me when you didn’t even notice I was breaking.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo spat, his words venomous.

Your vision blurred, but you refused to break. Not in front of them. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the counter, the only thing keeping you upright. “Then leave. And don’t come back.”

Nanami flinched—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make your chest tighten with anger. “You expect us to believe that you… cheated?”

“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep at night,” you snapped, your voice trembling but resolute. “Because the truth doesn’t matter to either of you. It never did.”

Gojo’s hands shook now, the façade of control crumbling. “You think this is about us? Do you know what I’ve been through? What we’ve been through? I had to kill my best friend. Suguru—” His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know who that is,” you hissed, your anger flaring. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I don’t understand why you’d react like this over killing some long-lost friend I’ve never even heard of. You’ve spent years with Nanami—more time than you ever did with whoever that is, so for all intents and purposes, he should be your best friend. And even if you were so sad over your so-called best friend, why am I the one left to bear the brunt of your grief? What did I do to deserve this?”

You aggressively wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek and continued, “I begged you—both of you—for any semblance of affection. I told you I was drowning, and you just... left me. You fucked each other for months while I cried myself to sleep in a corner of your penthouse, wondering why I was even there.”

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “When I came back to confront you, you were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t your wife.”

The words landed like physical blows. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, the words fragile, brittle.

You shook your head, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. You don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if I could forgive you, I will never forget the night I became an intruder in my own marriage.”

Nanami reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, but you recoiled, crossing your arms protectively over your stomach. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me!”

Gojo’s voice dropped, desperation leaking through the cracks. “We didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “You didn’t care enough to notice. Even with your six eyes and your oh-so-great curse signature reading abilities you always bragged about, you didn’t.”

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unyielding. “Leave. Sukuna will send over the divorce papers. Sign them and don’t come back.”

They hesitated, their expressions unreadable, but when you pointed toward the door, they obeyed. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment, leaving you trembling in its wake.

It had to be this way if you were to keep your babies safe, away from the dangers of the sorcery world. You needed to ensure that no one could take them from you.

A few minutes later, Sukuna returned. Finding the front lock broken, he rushed inside, his presence filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed until now. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and the shattered pieces of your resolve and said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room, his arms enveloping you in a hug, firm and grounding.

“They were here,” he stated, not asked.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I told them the twins are yours; I’m sorry nothing came to mind.”

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes studying you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them when they come back.”

“They won’t,” you said, your voice hardening. “They don’t deserve to know them. Or me.”

Sukuna smirked, but it wasn’t mocking. “Good.”

And when he sighed, content, for the first time in a long time, you truly felt that you were safe.

You peered up at him.

Sukuna smirked, his arms still holding you close. “Told you I’d take care of you, princess.”

But even as you closed your eyes, the weight of your choices pressed down on you, heavier than ever.

-

The hum of the plane’s engines was a constant, hollow noise, drowning out the world outside. The cabin was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a reading light over Nanami’s seat. He stared blankly at the leather-bound hardcover of The Myth of Sisyphus in his lap, its pages untouched. Beside him, Gojo leaned against the window, his long legs stretched out in the aisle, his eyes obscured by the darkened lenses of his sunglasses.

Neither of them had spoken since takeoff. The silence between them was heavy, a chasm filled with unspoken truths and raw, festering wounds.

“She’s lying,” Gojo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, like speaking it aloud would make it more real. “The twins… they’re ours.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He flipped the book closed and placed it on the tray table in front of him, his movements deliberate, mechanical. “I know.”

Gojo let out a hollow laugh, pressing his knuckles against his lips. “She doesn’t understand these things because she can’t see them. Those… those legs under her skin.” His voice cracked, and he turned his head toward the window, the faint reflection of his face pale and gaunt. “That’s not Sukuna’s cursed energy. One of them is mine, and one is yours.”

Nanami’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gojo turned to look at him, his sunglasses sliding down his nose enough to reveal his bloodshot eyes. “How can you say that? They’re our kids, Kento. She—she’s going to raise them with him.”

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if releasing the air from his lungs could somehow ease the ache in his chest. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, a suffocating reminder of the choices they had made and the consequences that followed. “And what would we offer them, Satoru? A life filled with curses? A life of blood and death?” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within. “She’s better off with him, away from us.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, as if the fabric could somehow absorb his pain. “I’ve looked into him—he abandoned sorcery long ago and holds no loyalty to its hierarchy. He’s free from the chains that bind us, free from the expectations and the endless cycle of violence that defines our lives. He will prioritize her, unlike us, always off on missions with no guarantee of return.” The bitterness in his tone deepened, each word laced with regret. “He will be there for her, keeping her and the kids safe.”

Nanami’s mind raced with images of what could have been—a life untainted by the darkness of their world, where laughter replaced the echoes of sorrow and love flourished without the shadow of fear. He could almost see you smile, the warmth of your presence, and the innocence of their children, untouched by the burdens they carried. But that vision felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

“Do you think we could have given them that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real. “A chance at a normal life, free from the horrors we’ve faced? We’ve only ever known how to fight, how to survive. What kind of future is that for them?”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the haunting realization that they had failed not just you, but the very lives they had hoped to protect. Nanami’s heart ached with the knowledge that their choices had led them to this moment, a crossroads where love and duty collided, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

Gojo slammed a fist against the armrest, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. “We didn’t even fight for her. Not once. We just… let her slip away. What the hell is wrong with us?”

 The weight of Nanami's eyes settling heavily on Gojo. “We broke her, Satoru. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the woman we claimed to love.” His voice was steady, but his words were sharp enough to cut. “And now she’s gone.”

Gojo’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to. After Suguru, after everything, I just—” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I couldn’t lose you too. And I did. I lost both of you.”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “She begged us to see her. To hear her. And we didn’t.”

Gojo dragged a hand down his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping against his palm. “She looked at me like I was a stranger, Kento. Like I wasn’t even human. Like she was scared of me.”

“She had every right to,” Nanami said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “We left her alone. We left her angry, grieving, and drowning; we made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own home. Then we chased her relentlessly from one country to another. Any woman, pregnant or not, would be scared.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor.

The silence returned, heavier now, punctuated only by the muffled sound of Gojo’s uneven breathing. Nanami sat motionless, his hands resting limply on his lap; he looked utterly shattered.

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Gojo asked, his voice barely audible.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the endless expanse of clouds outside the window, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think it matters.”

Gojo’s breath hitched again, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the ceiling as if he could somehow escape the crushing weight of his own guilt. He murmured. “We could’ve—”

“Could’ve doesn’t change anything,” Nanami interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s gone, Satoru. And she’s not coming back.”

The finality of those words settled between them, cold and unrelenting. Gojo turned his head toward the window, the light from the wing of the plane catching on the tears that slipped from beneath his sunglasses. Nanami sat motionless beside him, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the flight. The weight of what they had lost, what they had destroyed, was louder than any words could ever be.

-

The days after their visit felt heavier than anything you’d endured. The lie sat like a stone in your chest, each passing moment adding to its weight. You told yourself it was necessary, that it was for your children. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that came in fragments, jagged and disjointed, like shards of a shattered mirror slicing into your subconscious.

You stood in a darkened room, the walls pulsing faintly as if alive. A sickly red light seeped through the cracks, casting terrifying shadows that writhed and twisted. Your breath fogged in the cold air, the chill sinking into your bones.

Gojo was there first, his white hair glowing unnaturally in the dim light. His face was obscured, his features blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. But his voice was clear, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words echoed, multiplying, each iteration louder than the last until it became a deafening chant. His silhouette loomed larger, his hands outstretched, fingers impossibly long and claw-like. They reached for you, dragging through the air, each swipe leaving behind trails of darkness that spread like ink.

You tried to move, but your feet were rooted to the ground. When you looked down, black tendrils coiled around your ankles, slithering up your legs. They were cold and wet, like the touch of something ancient and decayed.

Behind him, Nanami appeared, his back to you. His suit was untouched by the darkness that surrounded you both. You called his name, your voice trembling and weak, but he didn’t turn.

“Ken!” you screamed, desperation clawing at your throat.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile. His lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, his skin cracked, fine lines spreading across his face like a porcelain doll dropped from a great height. From the fissures seeped black ichor, thick and oozing, dripping down to pool at his feet.

He turned fully then, and you wished he hadn’t. His eyes were empty voids, twin abysses that seemed to pull you in. His expression was blank, his mouth set in a line of quiet condemnation.

“Why did you lie?” His voice was soft but burrowed into your mind like a parasite.

“I had to,” you whispered, though your words felt small, swallowed by the growing shadows.

“Did you?” he pressed, his figure growing distant even as he stood still.

The tendrils tightened, pulling you downward. You clawed at them, your nails splitting as you tried to free yourself. But they only tightened, dragging you into the floor that had become a gaping maw, teeth lining the edges of the pit.

As you sank, Gojo and Nanami stood above you, unmoving. Their faces blurred together, features melding and twisting until they became something monstrous. Gojo’s laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, as Nanami’s voice droned in an endless loop:

“You should’ve told the truth.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the faint ripple of movement beneath your skin, something inside you fighting against the pull. But even that wasn’t going to be enough.

You woke gasping, your hand clutching your stomach as though to protect the life within. The room was quiet, the shadows still. But their voices lingered, whispering accusations in the corners of your mind.

Sukuna was always there in an instant, holding you as you fought through the panic attack. He rubbed circles on your back and forced you to count and breathe.

A/N: So, mystery hunk (™) is officially in the chat, and yes, he’s soft for our girl in his own chaotic way. Also, the part about Nanami reading Camus? That wasn’t just for flavor text—yes, I went there. If you’ve ever wanted to cry about The Myth of Sisyphus and think about how life is just a series of rolling boulders uphill, congratulations—this chapter’s for you! What do you think Sukuna’s Ryo-side would say to Nanami’s Sisyphus-side? Also, people who are grumbling about Sukuna being our guy, I have my reasons; hear me out: Gojo and Nanami are both special grades in this fic, so you need someone stronk who can proteck and attack you/for you. I will write more fics in the future where you'll have your fav guys as your saviors, so in the meantime, if you have ideas or just want to yell at me, send them on my asks. I’m curious: do you think Gojo’s breakdown was justified, or was he being selfish again? Let’s talk about it! Oh, and if you had to wrestle a goat, which JJK character would you pick to help you? (Sukuna’s banned. Too OP.)

Also this is your manz -

And this is what you married -

Even the stable one is weird -

Chapter 8 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

Disclaimer - I found these memes randomly on Pinterest, so lmk the creators if you know so that I can tag them.

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (5)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (4)

How to cure a grump masterlist

On Christmas Eve, the room is crowded with family, friends, neighbors, and, well, your former boss. He still sticks out with his expensive suit, polished shoes, and his whole aura.

Oddly, people like to chat with him. Bucky is a natural when it comes to wrapping people around his finger.

You can’t do much about it tonight. If you yell at him, drag him out of the room, or, what you love to imagine, choke the life out of him for being a jerk, people could get suspicious.

Smiling at the thought, you hide in a corner, watching Bucky joke with the people who do not know what an asshole he truly is.

You grit your teeth and huff. It was foolish of them to judge the book by its cover this time. Yes, he’s got a pretty façade, but deep down inside, Bucky Barnes is rotten. You’re sure about it.

“Why the face?” Your mother nudges your side. “People love him, Munchkin. No need to worry. We all hated John from the beginning, and he turned out a jerk. Trust our instinct.”

Bucky looks your way, watching you when you’re not looking. He can still feel your lips and wonder what came over him. Not two days ago, you were nothing but an employee to him, and then he kissed you.

“Man, you dismantled Walker like a pro,” your cousin laughs and shakes Bucky’s hand. “About damn time someone put him in his place. I’d have done the same, but Y/N didn’t want me to say a thing. She told me to let it slip and moved across the country instead.”

“So, I heard,” Bucky hums. “Y/M/N told me they had a business together. A company?”

“Uh—they wanted to open a business together. John not only cheated on her, but also stole her idea. She’s so smart and wastes her time at the office. I heard her boss is a jerk too, letting her work overtime and do her colleague’s work.”

“He must be an asshole,” Bucky replies with a smirk. He loves hearing all the insults your cousin calls your boss. “Did she tell you all about him?”

“No. Y/N never complains. She only said she’d take the next flight because she had to stay later this week too. Y/N was always too good for this world. Helped everyone around, you know,” your cousin brags. “I just know she offers her help to co-workers, and they tried to take advantage of her kindness.”

“I think Y/N is capable of putting people in their place too,” Bucky replies. He appreciates that your cousin tries to defend you but knows you better. “No one takes advantage of her.”

Your cousin grins before patting Bucky’s shoulder. “I already like you.” He chortles. “Oh, I gotta take care of my girl now.”

Bucky nods, as his eyes drift toward you again. Ever so often his mind drifts back to the moment he kissed you.

“You’re staring,” your aunt chuckles, catching Bucky staring at you. “I know you’re head over heels for my niece, but don’t undress her with your eyes while being around her family.”

“What?” Bucky dips his head to glance at your aunt.

She chuckles again and pats his arm. “Aw, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I know Y/N is lovely.”

Bucky furrows his brows. All he did was look your way. Why your aunt thinks he had something dirty in mind is beyond him.

“Phew...that was…nice,” Bucky says as you watch your mom say goodbye to the last guest, your aunt. “Do you always host a Christmas party for the neighbors and half of town?”

“Most of our neighbors would be alone on Christmas Eve, just like my mom. They are long divorced, widowed, and their kids don’t come around before or after Christmas,” you explain while Bucky watches you. “And family is family, you know. They all have their own family and will spend the rest of Christmas and New Year’s Eve with them.”

He nods thoughtfully and says, “I guess you’re better at opening your home for people. My parents only ever hosted Christmas parties for business partners.”

“Figures,” you bite your tongue and curse yourself for your response. “I meant it’s smart to invite business partners for Christmas. They feel valued that way.”

Bucky quirks a brow but says nothing. He’ll let it slip, knowing you’re not wrong.

“Anyway,” he fakes a yawn. “It was a long day, and I need to call Steve in the morning. He needs to take care of a few things while I’m stuck here.”

“And whose fault is that?” You huff. Bucky still tries to blame you for his friend’s mistake. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Yours,” he grins. “You made me come out here.”

“It was your friend not telling you about our conversation.”

“Relax,” he laughs. “I know it was Steve messing shit up, okay. You’re not to blame.” Bucky got up from the couch, just in time to bid your mom goodnight.

She furrows her brows as your former boss makes his way upstairs.

“Munchkin, don’t you want to join him?” She snickers when you roll your eyes. “I know you did more than cuddle. You’re a grown woman and have needs. I understand, Y/N. With a man like James around, a woman can get all tingly.”

“Mom!” You groan. “It’s not like that.”

“I know love is tough. How about we call it a day, and you can go back to denying you don’t like the handsome man sleeping under my roof? She flashes you a warm smile before pulling you into a hug. “Maybe he’s a little snobby on the outside, but I think James has a good heart. He’s just not used to showing it…”

Once again, you toss and turn. Your mother’s words still echo in your mind, and your lips still tingle from Bucky’s kiss.

“Christ, get over it. It was one fucking kiss,” you groan and slam your fist into the mattress. “It wasn’t even that good. Even if he tasted good and his lips perfectly fit with yours. Stupid... just stupid. He’s an asshole who fired you two days before Christmas.”

You turn on your side and decide to sleep it off. Soon Bucky will be out of town and out of your life. When he’s gone, you can try to explain to your mother who he is…

“Hmmm…” you murmur in your sleep. Somehow, you’re warm, very warm. It feels like a heating blanket wrapped itself around your body to keep you warm—or rather hot. “Fuck…warm.”

Wiggling in your sleep, you try to fend the heat off. You groan and shift again as it’s too heavy. “Warm…” Your eyes slowly open as you try to turn in your bed. It’s impossible. Something, or rather someone, wrapped himself around your body. “What the fuck!”

“What? Where?” Bucky jolts up on your bed. He looks at you lying next to him. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“What am I doing in your bed?” You sit up and huff. “This is my room and my bed. Get out! This is not some case of only one bed!”

“I—” he looks around the room, frowning deeply. Bucky ruffles his disheveled hair, trying to remember how he ended up in your bed. “Did we—?” He looks you up and down, licking his lips.

“What? NO!” You slap his chest, realizing too late he’s not wearing a shirt. “We didn’t have sex! Did you drink yourself to sleep?”

“Maybe I got a little drunk,” he murmurs and falls back onto your bed. Just now you smell the alcohol on him. “I was so lonely, and Steve ignored my calls. He fucked my vacation up, and now I’m stuck here and can’t even—”

You watch him turn on his side. “Hey, go back to your room.” You poke his back, but Bucky won’t budge. “What did I do to deserve this?”

You sigh and fall back on your pillow. There’s no way you can move Bucky. Turning your back on Bucky, you huff. “If your hands wander, you’ll lose them…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[lisired]

dead men tell no tales

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

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

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

word count: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was one tiny secret you never let slip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you around anyone?”

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

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

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

“Do it now.”

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

Johnny nodded in understanding. 

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

“I know,” was all Doyoung said. 

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

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

You gawked. “What?”

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

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

“I’m certain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t touch it. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What you really were. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As soon as possible.”

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

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

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

“Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only you knew what. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I hold it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, Johnny,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Bye.”

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he?”

“Mark,” you snapped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I sure hope so,” you muttered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, biting your lip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glimpse behind the forbidden door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And when exactly will that be?”

“When I feel like it.”

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. “Yeah. Move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes playfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny laughed. “Good answer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny raised a brow. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you were taken in?” Johnny asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever that means,” Johnny mumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny had no argument. 

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

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

“Could be worse,” you murmured. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which made you moderately anxious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a gun. 

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

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

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

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

Johnny was by the elevator, stained in blood.

You rooted in place as if you had crossed paths with a wild bear. For a second, you couldn’t even feel yourself breathe. Your heart all but stopped. And when Johnny finally turned and saw you, standing there in total shock, the emotion on his face was completely unreadable. 

There was a dry lump in your throat that you tried to dampen by swallowing. Who’s fucking blood was that? 

Then, it hit you. 

“Did you kill the receptionist?” you asked, blurting out the question the moment it entered your mind. 

Johnny had the audacity to blink in surprise, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. Which you didn’t believe for a second. “No, of course not.”

“I don’t believe you,” you snapped. “You disappeared when I told you to stay inside. I called your phone. You weren’t in the lobby, but it was. Don’t expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this.”

In an attempt to be consoling, Johnny reached out to hold you like he had always done when he tried to reassure you calmly, gingerly calling out your name before responding, “Baby, I know what it looks like, but…”

You instinctively whipped out the gun you had found, pointing it at him in a heartbeat as you stepped away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you warned, threatening. Your true colors were showing. The side of you that you never let him see. “I swear to God, I will shoot you.”

Johnny backed up, putting his hands up in innocence, as if he had nothing wrong. He looked surprised, likely not expecting you to be armed, whereas it didn’t seem like he was packing. Right now. “It looks like my cat’s out of the bag. I might as well come clean.”

Your heart was trembling, but your mind was trying to cling onto some leftover strength. She wasn’t a quitter. “You knew. You knew ever since we got that laced letter.”

“There was no laced letter,” Johnny replied, indifferent. 

Your eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m the one that sent it to us.”

You didn’t think it was possible for you to go any more still than you already had, but now you were as rigid as a corpse, standing there in a kind of disbelief stronger than the agony of a bullet tearing through flesh. “Who are you?” you asked stiffly. 

Johnny smirked, as if he was proud of himself for having deceived you all this time. “Take a wild guess.”

“You’re his gun,” you said, hands trembling as you grasped the weapon in your hands. All this time, your kryptonite had been hiding in plain sight. You had shown affection to the enemy, held him, made love to him. Slept beside him at night with all the trust your wounded self could muster.  

“I consider myself his poison,” Johnny retorted. 

You gawked. The gears were turning in your head, the gears that should have turned a long time ago, but you were too love blind to see it. “Your function,” you gasped. “You’re the poisoner. You’re Toxic.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure me out. They said you were the best of the best, you know. I guess that was before I got to you,” Johnny replied, grinning from ear to ear. He sighed, content. Then, he patted himself on the back, and quipped, “Good going, Johnny.”

“Is this a fucking joke to you?” you asked viciously, clearly having none of it.

“Maybe just a little bit, yeah,” Johnny admitted, chuckling faintly. “I mean, you have to admit I got you good. Rich American guy who loves traveling but never talks in detail about his job. I mean, I thought it would be too convenient, but you never asked any questions.”

Because I didn’t want you asking any questions about mine, you thought, but the words wouldn’t come. You were too stunned to speak. He had you completely fooled.

“You’re a bastard,” you sneered. 

Rather than be offended, Johnny laughed in amusement. “How are we any different? You had your secrets too.”

“I told you what I was when shit hit the fan,” you replied, although you knew it would be impossible to justify your half of it. You were just so sick of who you used to be and you didn’t want to risk losing what you had now. 

“Yeah, after shit hit the fan,” Johnny said, making a valid point. “Do you know how easy it would have been for me to take your life? God knows I’ve had ample opportunity. And yet you’re still here. Do you wanna know why?”

“Because you want to savor this to the last breath,” you replied, guarded. 

“Because I’m in love with you. Tragically. Fatally. Dangerously.”

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to believe him, to crawl into his bloody arms and let him hold you as if you meant something to him. But now you knew what he was. He was exactly like you, if not worse. And you were no stranger to telling a fib if the job required it. 

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” you argued, willing yourself to be strong. “Where’s Doyoung?”

Johnny wanted to touch you. Where words had failed, he knew his body could win you over, but something told him it wasn’t the best call to make right now. He sobered. “I have no idea, but you need to stay away from him. He’s not what you think he is.”

Your skepticism only heightened. “What do you know about him?”

Johnny was holding back, his hands still above his head. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you. “He’s dangerous. This whole trip is a scheme to kill you and your friends. He wanted to pry you out of hiding.”

“But you went along with it without saying a thing,” you reminded, doubtful. “How is that any better?”

Johnny sighed. “I had to. It’s the only way.”

“The only way to do what?”

“To get rid of him.”

“Get rid of him for what?”

“He’s the Emperor, baby.”

You shook your head in denial. For one, that didn’t make any sense. Doyoung was the same person you had spent years of your life hunting? Impossible. You saw the grief on his face that night your other teammates had been killed like lambs to the slaughter. 

The idea that he was another evil, however, did explain his absence now that you were finally in the kill zone. You still weren’t entirely adamant on trusting Johnny though. Fuck’s sake, he was covered in blood right now. And you didn’t want to know why. 

“You’re lying,” you sneered, pressing the button to summon the elevator. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand next to him. It was too goddamn overwhelming. 

“I can see why you think that,” Johnny replied softly, having suddenly turned serious. Like he was trying to prove his innocence somehow, even if he was stained in the evidence of what he truly was. “But I promise I’m not.”

You scoffed. If only life was so simple, where promises were inherently something of substance. “Your word means nothing to me right now. You’re a killer,” you said, tightening your grip on the firearm in your hand. 

“I’ve been a killer long before we met. So have you,” Johnny reminded, his voice becoming slightly sharper. “And you know what? I’ve never lied to you. I’ve just kept you away from the whole truth.”

You raised your voice, asking, “How do I know that?”

That tone was something Johnny had never heard from you before, and in a way nothing else ever had, it startled him; it showed him how close he was to losing you. “Don’t you trust me?”

You didn’t even grant that a response. You felt completely and utterly betrayed, even if a part of you didn’t think you had any right to be. It felt like a direct affront to your character that he even asked you something like that. You had trusted him, and look what that had gotten you. Where it had gotten you.

“I’m going to leave this floor,” you replied, gesturing towards the elevator. “And you’re going to make yourself useful, or die trying.”

Johnny looked at you, more so the gun in your hands, eyes flickering in surprise. “You’re leaving? What? No. You can’t do that.”

“Watch me,” you whispered, stepping backwards into the elevator. The whole time, your eyes were trained on Johnny and so was your weapon, making it abundantly clear that you were armed, capable, and very, very dangerous. 

Death didn’t discriminate, after all. Why should you? 

Not daring to move as much as an inch, Johnny watched the elevator door close, stealing you away from him and carrying you to God knows where. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, heart thudding violently. 

Once in the elevator, you relaxed, but even that was short-lived. You jolted when your phone began to ring and you were shocked when you read the number, recognizing it immediately. You put the phone to your ear and answered, “Jesus, Doyoung. Where the hell are you?”

In typical Doyoung fashion, he didn’t waste any time on explanations, whispering, “Listen to me. Johnny’s lost it. I watched him shoot the receptionist with my own eyes.”

Your brows furrowed. You had mentioned Johnny to Doyoung before, but only vaguely. Not once did you ever reveal his identity. “How do you know his name?”

“How do you think?” Doyoung asked, suggesting it was obvious. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I had to make sure you were safe, that you weren’t falling into the same trap as the others.”

“And what did you conclude?”

With seemingly no intention to be very forward for once in his life, Doyoung continued, “I was suspicious. His record was squeaky clean, too clean, so I kept digging. I didn’t find a damn thing, but I knew I was right to be suspicious when I saw him shoot the receptionist with no mercy.”

You shook your head, thinking it over. Missing inventory aside, whoever killed the receptionist had to have access to a gun, but they had all been checked in upon entrance. And you knew Johnny wasn’t carrying one, because the machine would have dinged if he was. 

Though that didn’t mean there weren’t any other weapons in the building whatsoever. You were sure there was some way to sneak them inside and plant them for others to get a hold of. Hell, that was the only reason you had one now. 

To say nothing of the fact that he was literally stained in blood. That was the entire reason you had suspected him in the first place. The only problem was that now that you thought about it, he couldn’t have been armed. You saw the look on his face when you left and it couldn’t just have been because he didn’t want you to go. 

It was because you had something valuable. 

Another conflicting part of the story was that Doyoung talked about Johnny as if they had never met before, but Johnny himself had told you he was the Emperor. Which, if true, meant Doyoung was his boss. So, one of them was lying. 

Stepping out of the elevator onto the bottom floor, you stealthily paced the corridors with the gun in your clasp and the phone to your ear, whispering, “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“I meant to, I really did, but after I checked in, all this crazy stuff started happening, and…,” Doyoung trailed off, confusing you. Until he added, “You have a gun?”

That voice didn’t only come from your phone; it came from behind. You whipped around in a blink, noticing Doyoung standing a few feet away, eyes widened in surprise. 

You hung up. You hadn’t seen Doyoung in person in years. He hardly looked any different. He still had deep, dark hair and that stern, chiseled face. And he still had this commanding aura to him that had made him so efficient as your leader. 

But you weren’t so confident about him anymore. Not after the interaction you’d just had. Johnny had planted doubts in your mind, even if you didn’t trust him either. You figured it was in your best interest to assume everyone was dangerous and a threat until proven otherwise. 

“I found it in one of the rooms,” you replied casually, but you stiffened as he stepped closer to you. “Why?”

Doyoung looked more alarmed than you had seen him since that godawful night so long ago. He whispered, “You need to give it to me. I think Johnny’s the Emperor.”

“What?”

“Why else would he kill the receptionist?” Doyoung asked, frantic. “I know you like him, maybe you love him, but this is important. We have to kill him before he kills us.”

You heard heavy footsteps coming from the staircase at the end of the hallway and drew your gun in preparation, but you were surprised to see that it was Johnny. And he looked equally as stunned to see you standing there next to Doyoung.

“Stay away from her, Johnny,” Doyoung spoke up, getting the first word in. He stood in front of you, as if he was defending you. 

“Whatever he’s been telling you, he’s lying,” Johnny told you hurriedly, panting for breath. “You can’t trust him. I told you, he’s the Emperor.”

Doyoung looked offended. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the Emperor. You planned all of this to isolate us and get us alone, didn’t you?”

Johnny raised his voice, insisting, “Don’t listen to him, he’s lying. I told you who I am. Think about it, baby. Why would he bring you here and make it easier for you to die?”

Doyoung matched his energy and snapped, “I brought us here so we can decide collectively on a course of action. We’re stronger together than we are alone.”

Ignoring him, Johnny focused on you entirely and reasoned, “You’re more vulnerable together and you know it. You said it yourself that you’re being hunted down to the last man. Why go out of the way to assassinate you when he could just lead you into a death trap?”

“That’s not true,” Doyoung hissed. 

Johnny called out your name, shifting around Doyoung to make eye contact with you. He could see how your trembling hands clasped the weapon like it was your only lifeline. “Please. I’d never hurt you, you have to trust me on that. Give me the gun.”

Rolling his eyes, Doyoung said, “Come on. You’ve known me for years. Give me the gun and we can walk out of here and go home.” 

Something inside you burned furiously. You didn’t have a home. You’d considered home to be wherever Johnny was, but even that had fallen through. And you knew that if you walked out of here without him, you would have nothing left except the shadow of what you used to be. You had nothing left to lose. 

When you told Johnny that you were on the run, he had said, That’s like running from your shadow. And now more than ever, you realized he was right. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself anymore. You needed to end the fight once and for all so that you could finally know peace instead of transience. 

“Enough!” you screamed, pointing the gun back and forth between both men. They startled, your raising voice making them still. “You can both go to hell.”

With that, you took off, sprinting up the stairs and hoping to lose them before they could even attempt to catch up with you. That was one of the many, many pitfalls of being a woman in a male-dominated world. You had to compensate somehow, and what you lacked in strength, you made up for in speed and wit. 

You just hoped it would be enough to save you. 

There were footsteps behind you. You couldn’t see them when you turned, but you never stopped moving. The only thing you knew was that you had to think of a way to get out of here, but going outside was far too risky. You didn’t know what was waiting for you out there nor were you even remotely curious. 

You cut down to the other staircase on the right hand side of the hallway, hoping to outsmart them. There were only a handful of floors, but there had to be some way to buy yourself more time to think. They wouldn’t expect you to go back down, would they?

When you made it safely to the bottom floor, you checked both ways like a child crossing the street before circling back to the main lobby. It was strangely empty. You wondered if anyone was here other than the three of you. Mark crossed your mind and a palpable fear began pumping through your veins. 

He had signed in. You knew that much. Walking down the corridor you had clocked upon entrance, you made a beeline for the bar, knowing no one would expect to find you there of all locations. But to be safe, you locked the door and released a shaky sigh. 

Your head was spinning. Your mind was scattered. Someone had emptied out the inventory, but neither Johnny nor Doyoung clearly had weapons of any kind. So who in the hell stole all the guns?

A sudden sound jolted you out of your mental headache. Your first thought was the door you’d locked, but no one was there. Then, you heard it again. It was a thud, coming from behind the door, as if there was something behind it that couldn’t get free. Like a trapped bird throwing itself against its cage. 

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you approached the storage room, wielding your weapon. You heard the thud again; it sounded like a kick, followed by muffled noises. There was someone back there. You felt a sudden chill sweep over your shoulders. 

Taking a deep breath, you counted to three under your breath before you yanked at the knob, throwing the door open. 

Mark fell over, having been leaning on the door, and dropped to his side.

“Mark,” you gasped, recognizing him in a heartbeat. He was familiar to you, even in this disheveled state. 

He said something, eyes wide as he glanced at you, but you couldn’t make it out. There was tape over his mouth. 

You sat him up, crouching down onto your knees. After you had gotten him upright, you looked into his eyes and warned, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry.”

With no further warning, you ripped the tape straight off in one clean jerk. 

Mark recoiled in pain. “Goddamn!”

You winced, as if you were the one hurting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mark replied, exhaling a breath of relief. He looked like he was simply happy that you had found him and he didn’t die in that storage room, which you understood. You could finally relax knowing he was physically okay. 

As you cautiously undid the tape binding his arms and legs, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, you asked, “Who the hell did this to you?”

Mark shrugged. He looked like he had been through hell and back without taking absolutely any detours. His skin was damp with sweat you could feel through his clothes. There was a faint patch of blood on his skin and you assumed he’d been attacked. “I don’t know.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“They came up from behind me while I was walking in the hallway,” Mark explained, stretching his limbs now that they were free. “I never saw their face. And when I came to, I was tied up in the closet.”

That only confused you even more. Obviously, there was something they didn’t want Mark to interfere with, but a bullet to the head seemed like a much more practical solution than tying him up and hiding his body. “Well, they didn’t kill you,” you pointed out. 

Mark nodded, sighing. “Yeah, but why?”

You sighed too. Like hell you knew. You had been expecting more bodies, more casualties. There no was no doubt you were grateful Mark wasn’t dead, but it still threw you off. “You were right.”

“Of course, I was,” Mark chirped, even though he had know idea what you were going on about. “So, what was I right about?”

“Johnny,” you told him quietly, almost like you were ashamed. Maybe you were. “He’s not what I thought he was. He’s one of us. And I was his sub.”

Mark gawked. A part of him had seen it like that coming, but it wasn’t like he had happily anticipated it. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

You tangled your hand through your hair, because now you were thinking about it and it was breaking your heart all over again. You had fallen six feet under for his deceit. The man you loved and thought you knew was just another proxy that had been contracted to take you out. Only this time, he had actually gotten close. 

“It gets worse,” you replied, forcing yourself to remember everything that had gone down in the past hour. “He claims to be Toxic. And he says that Doyoung is the Emperor.”

The first part seemed to surprise Mark more than the second and his brows knitted. “Wait, they sent Toxic after you instead of Backstabber? Why? I thought his function was just to poison people and leave. You guys have been together for months.”

“Why would he lie?”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe he’s the Emperor.”

You could literally feel your bones chilling. That was what Doyoung had said, and now Mark seemed to believe it too. You didn’t know what to think. “Johnny says Doyoung is the Emperor, but Doyoung says it’s Johnny. I don’t know who to trust.”

Marked mulled it over. There was a lot of catching up to do, all things considered. He shook his head, frowning. “What is your gut telling you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. You couldn’t even trust your instincts anymore, even after relying on them your whole life. Johnny had told you to trust your gut and kick everything else to the curb. But how could you when you didn’t know what it was trying to say?

You had learned to bridle it, but it never completely stopped. It became a whisper instead of a scream. And now there was a dull echo. 

“Come on,” Mark encouraged, grasping your shoulders. “Think. Forget everything you feel right now just for a second and think. You were in a unit with Doyoung for a year and you’ve spent the past however many months practically glued to Johnny’s hip. What did they say? How did they say it?”

You blinked. “Mark, I can’t.”

Mark shook his head. “Yes, you can. I know you want to move on from this life, but you never will if we can’t make it out of there. We need the clever assassin. Let her come out one last time and then kill her.”

You sucked in a breath, willing yourself to get back in shape. The clever assassin. The lethal proxy. The woman you thought was dead and buried. Now more than ever, you needed her back. One last time. “Someone shot the front desk lady. Uh, close range like Margo. Johnny was covered in blood. I thought it was him at first. Doyoung said he saw him shoot her with no mercy.”

“You said at first,” Mark pointed out. “Do you not think so anymore?”

You were reluctant for a minute, but you finally said, “They don’t have guns. They were both trying to convince me to give them mine, but I told them to fuck off.”

Mark was surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Someone took all of the guns from the inventory, but I don’t know where they are, and they both looked desperate for a weapon. Which means someone else is here too. But Johnny couldn’t have shot the receptionist if he didn’t have the means.”

“So, Doyoung lied,” Mark concluded. 

You shrugged. It seemed like the whole room was reeling at this point. “I guess so.”

Mark mumbled something under his breath, likely in shock as he processed the new information. “Then, the only question left is what are they so scared of?”

“Or who,” you replied quietly. 

Mark stood up. The solution seemed obvious to him. “We gotta go.”

Your eyes followed him. “And do what? We need a plan if we’re going to go out in the open.”

Mark shook his head. “Are you serious? Doyoung is guilty as all hell. And that means he probably killed my sister. You have a gun. Let’s go put a bullet in his head and get the hell out of this dump.”

“Wait, Mark,” you replied, standing up and grabbing his arm. “Let’s just think about this for a little longer.”

“What’s left to think about?” Mark asked grimly. 

“Let’s say Johnny is telling the truth. He’s Toxic and Doyoung is the Emperor,” you started, lowering your reach to his hands. “That means they’re trying to kill each other even though they work together. Why?”

Mark shrugged his shoulders again. “No idea. What did Johnny tell you?”

You thought about that interaction you’d had with Johnny on the second floor, where he’d confessed to being complicit in the nightmare you were currently living. “He said that this trip was the only way to kill Doyoung, but I don’t get why he would want to kill his boss.”

“I do,” Mark replied. “Think about it. You’re Johnny’s sub. The cold case excluded, when has it ever taken you months to kill someone?”

Your lips were in a line. You didn’t want to entertain the idea that Johnny genuinely cared about you, because you didn’t want to be wrong. But he said it himself he had ample opportunity to leave you for dead. He never did. 

“Never.”

“Exactly,” Mark said. “He’s obviously stalling. If Doyoung is his direct boss and he’s been assigned to help pick us all off for being in that unit, he’s not gonna wanna go through with killing you, especially if he really loves you.”

You chewed that over. There was something about your affection for Johnny that triggered your fight or flight instincts in a way you’d never experienced before. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it was suffocating. 

“It’s your call,” Mark told you, patting you on the shoulder. “We can always kill them both if that makes you happier.”

You laughed for the first time in a long time, but you knew that wasn’t what you wanted. You were just so scared. Fear was one of the most natural human emotions and yet you were so ashamed to be afraid. It made you feel out of control. “No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I think I know what I need to do.”

“Then, let’s go,” Mark said, waving you forward with his hand.

With one final breath, you nodded and silently followed Mark out of the bar through the double doors. You hoped you were making the right decision. This was beyond life or death. You weren’t afraid to die. You were afraid of dying alone. 

When in the hallway, there was a light in one of the rooms on the right side. You and Mark exchanged glances, noticing that the door was ajar. It looked like a laundry room, likely connecting to a sauna or pool. There were a bunch of white towels stacked on top of each other from what you could see.

“You go ahead. I’m gonna check this out,” Mark told you, distracted.

You narrowed your eyes. Did he seriously think you were going to leave him alone? He’d just barely survived being thrown into a closet to rot like an animal. “Mark, no. You don’t have a weapon. Come on, it’s just a closet.”

As if he didn’t hear a word you said, Mark walked off. “Five minutes.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but there was no opportunity to argue, because he had already disappeared. 

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled under your breath, disgruntled. That boy had a death wish. You were practically certain of it now. What had he seen that made him want to investigate instead of minding his own business? A ghost?

The more you walked into the lobby, the less confident you were beginning to feel. You couldn’t afford to be wrong. Even if you weren’t afraid of death, there were more lives at stake than just your own. You had Mark to take care of, even if he was perfectly capable of defending himself, and you had honor. 

It was everything in your world. You may not have been on a team anymore, but if there was anything the league did teach you other than how to be a lethal, unstoppable bullet no one would ever see coming, it was that you didn’t leave your family to die. And it was a principle you still followed despite your reproach for the network. 

With how you had grown up, taken under the wing of a hawk to become an even deadlier hawk, you knew there was no one you could really trust. Hardly even yourself. 

But you also knew that living life with no one really, truly by your side was lonely. 

You didn’t even need to look for Johnny. He was creeping down the hallway with quick, soundless steps, totally not looking suspicious. When his eyes locked on you, he went rigidly still. 

“Johnny,” you called out faintly. 

Johnny put his index finger up to his lip, shushing you, and approached you ever so slightly. With the gun in your grip and your evident distrust of him, he wasn’t taking any chances. His voice was light as a feather as he said your name. “I know I had you under the impression that I was some oasis away from this world and I apologize. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever.”

The sudden apology had you taken aback, even though you tried to stay on guard. It was hard when you were around Johnny. Your body was so used to being at ease when you were with him, not registering him as a threat. “You never hurt me.”

“I never hurt you,” Johnny repeated, knowing what you’d meant by that. He had never physically caused you any pain - not more than you’d bargained for, at least. “And I hope you can believe me when I say that I never plan to. If nothing else is, my feelings for you are real. The thought of hurting you alone makes me angry.”

You silently took his words in. They sounded so genuine, so affectionate. You were good at recognizing lies when you heard them, but it was clear by now that you were a little weak in that regard when you were blinded by emotion. Your judgment was clouded. 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder and continued, “That’s why I have to do this. That’s why I have to kill Doyoung. He knows that I won’t go through with the order and he won’t rest until one of us is dead.”

“That’s why you want the gun,” you replied, realizing Mark had been right. Johnny cared about you too much to let you die. 

Johnny looked over his shoulder again, like he was being watched. Or followed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was trying to stay clear of his boss. “Give me the gun and I can end this. We can meet my mom. We can go any place in the goddamn world. We can settle down if that’s what you want.”

Footsteps echoed in the halls. They weren’t coming from behind you, so you knew it wasn’t Mark. It was someone else. 

“Please,” Johnny replied, surprising you. You’d never heard him beg for a damn thing in the entire time you’d known him. 

You swallowed, weighing your options. There weren’t many. Either you gave him the gun or you kept it for yourself. You just couldn’t understand why he was so adamant on having it, if not to turn it on you at some point. “Why do you need the gun? Why can’t I do it?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

Your heart thumped with an intense, deep tremor. Those words were weirdly sentimental to you in a way that was inexplicable. He was willing to take the blame so that you wouldn’t have a mark on your back. You believed him. If Doyoung was the Emperor, that made him one of the most influential figures in the underground. His death would send shock waves through the league and likely even through the public. 

The syndicate would have its revenge. No one would take out its Emperor and not be penalized accordingly for it, but you thought about it some more. Not only would the lack of power weaken them, but there was a way to take advantage of the situation at hand. 

So you gave Johnny the gun, holding your breath. He accepted it. 

The footsteps drew closer, louder. Johnny pulled you behind him and whipped around. 

It all happened in a blink. 

A gunshot echoed out. Your ears rang from the loud noise and you shuddered, only vaguely remembering the last time you had heard something so deadly. You thought you would be numb. It used to feel like nothing. Right now, however, staring down at where the bullet had pierced Doyoung squarely between the eyes, the feeling in your chest teetered toward relief. 

“Damn,” Johnny replied, handing you back the gun. “I’m still a damn good shot. What can’t I do?”

It took you a second, but you managed a laugh. The sight was surreal, but something told you that you’d made the right choice. 

Johnny rubbed his temple. He was clearly relieved too. “Alright, trivia time. You were in a unit for a year tasked with knowing everything about us. What do you know about me?”

“Uh, you’ve been dealing with poison for at least a decade. You’re the best poison specialist in the league and you learned in America, but you do dirty business with chemists all over the globe so that there’s less of a trail, which has made you a super pain in the ass,” you replied, reciting everything you knew from memory. 

The longer you thought about it, the more sense it made. Johnny had been hiding in plain sight this entire time and you’d had no idea. The thought made you somewhat uneasy, but you also had to admit that you were impressed.

“You’re forgetting the part where I’m his right hand.”

You gawked. “You’re what?”

Johnny chuckled, glancing at Doyoung’s lifeless corpse with no remorse. “Well, I was two minutes ago, that is. I’m the Emperor now.” 

Now that was a surprise. You knew their functions, but you had never understood the exact hierarchy system in the syndicate. “Johnny, what the...”

Johnny looked more than enthusiastic to explain, but his gaze quickly became distracted. By the time you caught the flicker of motion that had stolen his attention, it was too late. 

You tensed when you heard another gunshot rang out in the hallway. You and Johnny instinctively both clung to each other, shuddering with the same fear. 

Sol slumped to the ground as quickly as he’d moved.

Mark stepped forward, panting. He pushed his hair out of his face, lowering the weapon he’d somehow gotten ahold of. “Found the guns,” he announced, scratching his head.

You sighed in relief, but your eyes were wide with confusion. Sol must have stolen them, not that that made any sense whatsoever. “I thought he was dead?”

“That’s what Doyoung told me,” Mark said, glancing between the two very dead, bleeding bodies on the floor. “Damn, that’s a clean shot.”

“Thank you,” Johnny chirped, simpering.

You shook your head, emptying the chamber of the gun you were holding and handing it over to Johnny. “Get this damn thing away from me.”

The grin on Johnny’s face turned upside down when he heard your tone. “Hey, it’s done. It’s over.”

Mark smiled, watching you both from afar. There was a bittersweet feeling in his heart at the thought of what he’d lost and the sight of what you’d gained. “It’s over,” he echoed. 

You nodded, holding onto Johnny like you would die without him. Though you still couldn’t help but notice he was still covered in blood. “So why are you wearing blood if you didn’t kill the lady at the front desk?”

“I got into a little fight with that guy. I had no idea you knew him,” Johnny replied, lifting his shirt and revealing a bloody gash. 

You gawked. “You got stabbed?”

Johnny laughed. “You didn’t notice, right?”

“You have a pain tolerance even a masochist would bitch about,” you said, shaking your head. “I should have known. You have all those tattoos.”

“Never trust a guy with tattoos,” Johnny said jokingly. 

You snickered. “No, absolutely never.”

Mark seemed to have finally caught his breath. “Hey, Johnny guy. So, there’s not a team of snipers sitting outside this place?”

Johnny shook his head. “Nah. Doyoung really had it out for you guys, wanted to kill you himself.”

Mark sighed. “Where does Sol fit in all this? Doyoung said he was poisoned.”

Johnny shrugged. “Doyoung’s lied to you guys a lot, even all those years ago. He was planting fake clues to lead you guys astray, but you were still getting closer than he thought you would. So he threw in the towel.”

Hearing that made you frown. You’d looked up to Doyoung, admired him even. You hated that things had to end this way. “So is Margo really dead?”

“Who? That girl in your unit you were talking about on the plane?” Johnny asked. “I don’t know.”

Mark’s face fell. 

Your heart ached. Untangling yourself from Johnny’s arms, you walked over to Mark and pulled him in for a hug. “Go,” you whispered. “Look for her.”

“I have a better idea,” Johnny said. “If we get somewhere with better service, I can ask my team. If she’s dead, one of them probably know. Doyoung hasn’t been telling me stuff anymore for obvious reasons.”

Mark glanced at Johnny from over your shoulder. “You’re serious, dude? You’d do that?”

“A friend of the woman I love is a friend of mine. I can do a small favor. I have to let them know Doyoung’s dead anyway.”

Your heart warmed, but a question lingered over your head as you released Mark, and you asked, “But won’t they bark when they find out you killed him?”

Johnny’s shoulders shook as he laughed. There was a very, very tiny possibility, but that was why he took the kill. “Who said they had to find out? Dead men tell no tales.”

It was your turn to laugh. No one ever had to know. You could keep a secret, especially if it meant you’d be free from this hell. “I guess that’s true,” you replied, nodding. “Dead men tell no tales.”

[babybeeelle]

Hi sorry English doesn't have my mother tongue I don't know if it will be understandable BUT here's the idea: instead of Rio it's Reader who invoked. Agatha and Reader his ex but still love each other. Reader becomes close to another witch and Agatha becomes jealous, reader plays with her until Agatha kisses her and tells her that she is hers

mrsines asked:

Summary : Reader and Agatha have known each other since the very beginning. But through time, the relationship was severed. Reader is summoned to the road (instead of Rio). Agatha, still deeply in love with the reader, becomes extremely jealous when Alice starts to get close to the reader. Agatha being Agatha, an argument breaks out.

Pairing - Fem!Reader x Agatha Harkness

Warning - Angst, Agatha done been stupid, and an author who is inexperienced in kiss writing descriptions🫣

Word Count : 3.2k

My own twist of two similar requests!

a/n : This is the longest story I've ever written, and its my own twist of two similar requests!

An Immortal Love

Being summoned is a strange sensation. It begins with a sudden, unsettling shift in one’s own energy. It feels like the soul is forcibly dragged from the physical realm, and there is no longer control of one’s own body. Its not painful, but the distortion of reality is deeply disorienting- an out-of-body experience to say the least. Then, just for a moment, the ritual brings weightlessness, like the peak of a rollercoaster before the drop, until the inevitable pull of a supernatural force yanks the summoned being into another plane.

In Y/n’s unfortunate case, she’s pulled through soil and rock, suffocating in the dark embrace of the earth itself. Struggling to break free from the ground’s grasp, she emerges with a groan. Pulling herself upright, instinctively taking in her surroundings. There is no telling who's done the ceremony and why. Being summoned is usually never a good thing. Staying cautious is vital.

The first thing Y/n sees are five horrified faces, and standing protectively in the middle is the woman she swore to never see again.

Agatha Harkness.

“Great, just great,” Y/n mutters under her breath, unable to believe her luck.

“Y/n, you look as stunning as the day I met you. Truly, you age like fine wine,” is the first thing Agatha chooses to say, her cautious expression melting into a sly smile as she stepped forward.

Without sparing her a second glance, Y/n turns on her heel and walks away. “Where the hell am I, and how do I get out? I’m not doing whatever it is you summoned me for,” she states firmly, leaving no room for debate.

"You're on the Witch's Road." Y/n halts in her steps. "There is no leaving," the defiant voice of a young boy calls out.

Y/n chuckles, now annoyed. "The road is imaginary my naive child," she reprimands, turning to make eye contact with him. He's a tall boy, youthful. He exuberates a confident and rebellious aura with his dark curly hair and eye-lined makeup. He's young, and most certainly foolish.

"Then how do you explain where we are? Hm? You cannot deny what is before you, my love," Y/n's former lover explains with a witty smile on her face, stepping closer to her.

"You don't get to call me that," she seethes through her teeth, while rage-filled eyes burn into Agatha's soul, having no effect on Agatha.

"Come on my love, it's been centuries. Why can't bygones be bygones?" Agatha drags out with a sheepish laugh, now closing the distance. She's trying to coax Y/n into shrugging centuries off, to bandage up the gaping wounds in her heart, leaving it to beat in agony. It's like Agatha believes time heals all. They both know it doesn't. She shattered her heart.

Y/n scoffs. She almost can't believe her audacity, but then she remember, it's Agatha. Of course she would expect the woman she'd left broken to erase the raised scars of their history for her benefit.

Shaking her head, Y/n chooses it's best to not let her have any of her energy. Turning her attention to the group, who had been staring at them with a mix of curiosity and caution, she chooses to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Y/n. Can someone explain why I’ve been dragged onto the road?” she mockingly questions, rolling her eyes.

The woman with a fiery punk appearance speaks out in response, "We needed a green witch." Her presence stands out from the others. She's bold, charismatic, yet reserved. Her strong features and clothing stand out almost like an armor of protection. Her wild and messy, black hair has streaks of vibrant orange that match the edgy outfit she adorns.

Y/n glances briefly at Agatha and lets out a humorless chuckle. “Okay, if that's what you want to call me,” she replies, indifferent, before walking down the road, further leaving the group puzzled.

...

After time passes, everyone makes the collective decision to set up camp and rest for the night. The bright and warm fire casts a soft hue that illuminates everyone as they surround the flames. Wanting to be as far away from Agatha as possible, Y/n deliberately chooses to sit across from her, the flames acting as a partial barrier between them.

In her spot, Y/n notices the particularly intriguing witch sitting next to her, the one who was first to address her. She glances over at Y/n and introduces herself. "My name is Alice. In case you were wondering," she adds to her introduction, hurriedly, still unsure about Y/n's intentions and role in the group. Y/n hums in response, moving her gaze to focus on Alice, encouraging her to continue.

She takes the sign and begins to open up a little. "I never wanted to believe any of this, you know?" she starts, her eyes staring into the fire. "The generational curses. The Witch's Road. I thought it was all just stories my mom made up before she died. I thought she was just...unwell."

Y/n sighs, exhaustion lacing her voice. "I don't know what this is, but the road isn't real."

Alice frowned, disbelief evident in her expression. “How can you say that when we’re here? You weren’t here for the trials, maybe that’s why you think that, but this road is very real. Teen almost died. Mrs. Davis did die.”

Y/n ignores her question, her gaze distant, and doesn't say anything. Alice sighs, giving up on the short-lived conversation. Until, out of nowhere, she start to explain her past, not looking at her. "A long, long, time ago, when Agatha and I were just girls, we were a part of the same coven. We weren't the same as the others. We possessed powers they couldn't fathom. Naturally, they wanted us dead. They tried to kill us because they were scared of the things they couldn't comprehend, the things they knew they'd stand no chance against if we were to betray them. Agatha and I escaped of course, but we were alone. We only had each other. And yet, she left me," she ended, never really ever had processed her grief. She wiped away a stray tear that threatened to roll down her face.

Alice could tell there was a lot more to the story, but she doesn't push. Instead, she tries to sympathize, "Wow, that's-"

Y/n cut her off before she can say anything else, "I don't believe this is the road because I don't trust Agatha."

Alice bites her lip, trying to think of what to say. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing. "I can't imagine how scared you must've been. No one should have to go through that," she says cautiously, leaning closer to Y/n. She reaches her hand out slowly and lays her hand over Y/n's hand, causing her to look at Alice. Her eyes and smile hold sympathy. "You don't have to be alone anymore." Her comfort was warmer than the fire than cracked before the both of them, sending smoke and sparks of the fire through the air. Much like the anger burning in Agatha's mind.

"When you've been alone for so long, it's-"

"Hard to rely on other people?" Its her turn to cut Y/n off. "I know," giving her a half-smile.

She smiles the same back to Alice. The warmth in her words comforting and real. In that small moment, the chains around Y/n's heart loosed for the first time in centuries. It seems like its been forever since she'd been treated so softly, and with genuine care.

Inside, Agatha was seething. You could almost see the smoke steaming out of her ears like a cartoon character. It was the first time she has seen her only love face to face in ages, and here she was, being wooed by someone else. She would never tell Y/n, but she has always make sure she was safe. She was always there to protect her in the shadows. She wished nothing more than to march over and push Alice away from Y/n, letting her know she is hers and always would be. Agatha was beginning to think that's what she had to do. She can't lose her again, not to someone else. Agatha knew Y/n deserves to be with someone far better than her, someone like Alice. That was the entire purpose to why she had to leave her. But the thought of her falling in love with someone else, tore deep into her soul like it was nothing. Watching Alice move closer to her love, and Y/n reciprocating her affection, made her physically sick. She had to do something.

"Maybe its best if you all leave Y/n to rest. Being summoned sure does take a lot out of ya, doesn't it hun?" Agatha fakely humors with a smile, attempting to separate Y/n from Alice in the most discreet manner as possible. The last thing she needed was for Y/n to hate her from ending the witch who was flirting with her. Nevertheless, that plan backfired immediately.

Alice raised an eyebrow in her spot, unbothered. "I think Y/n can make that decision on her own," Alice retaliates, her hand never leaving Y/n's, smirking. She can see right through Agatha's blatant attempt to separate them. She knows what Agatha's trying to do.

"Oh, is that so?" she feigns surprise, holding her hand over her heart. "Cause I'm sure you know her a lot better than I do from this knockoff game of 7 minutes in heaven. " Agatha condescendingly riles up the easily tempered witch, both of them standing now.

"Agatha, you need to calm down. You have no right to be acting this way," Y/n intervenes, shooting daggers at Agatha as she stands up as well. Agatha's angry and pissed, never a good combo in that one. Y/n know how this will go if it continues to escalate. Agatha has always been protective over her, possessive even. Its why is was so much harder to understand why she left to begin with. It never made sense.

Looking over at Alice, Y/n notices her hand start to glow in a closed fist, restraining her will to blast Agatha, knowing what will happen if she does. Y/n takes Alice's hand into her own, trying to calm her down, but this pushes Agatha over the edge.

"Get your filthy hands off her you hag!" Agatha snarls walking over to the two of them, ready to get her hands dirty. Before she can even think about her next move, Y/n blocks her from reaching Alice. She grabs a hold of Agatha's arm as she drags her away from the group, her grip firm and tight around the jealous witch's arm. The others sat silently by the fire, exchanging cautious glances, but unwilling to intervene. Alice, though defiant earlier, held back, crossing her arms, sensing that this confrontation was long overdue.

Y/n didn’t stop until they were far away enough that the only sound was the rustling of leaves, and the faint crackle of the campfire in the distance. Finally, she released Agatha, forcefully pushing her away as if she was disgusted by Agatha's touch, turning to face her with an expression caught between fury and hurt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/n demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration and confusion. “You have absolutely no right to talk to Alice or me like that. You’re the one who left me, remember? Whatever I do now and whoever I choose to do it with, is none of your business.”

Agatha grimaced at her harsh words, but her expression quickly hardened. “None of my business?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Do you think it was easy? To hurt you terribly? Trust me when I say it was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. You have no idea what it did to me to walk away from you.”

"What are you talking about? Protect me from what? Explain to me what was so serious that you chose to abandon me."

Agatha faltered, her defiance wavering. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to find the words.

"Answer me, Agatha. Or I swear, you will never see me again," Y/n said, dead serious.

Agatha’s gaze dropped to the ground. For a moment, it seemed as though she might retreat into her usual wall of protection. But then, in a voice so quiet it barely reached Y/n’s ears, she answered her. “Myself,” she admitted, her voice unsteady.

"Yourself? You've got to be kidding me. What kind of excuse is that? Is that some kind of joke? You think you can come up with excuses that will change all the pain and suffering, the abandonment?" Y/n was fuming. She couldn't believe the situation she was in.

“I was protecting you from myself,” Agatha said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, voice now unwavering. “You don’t understand Y/n. That power was intensifying the darkness inside me, You always saw the best in me, but I knew what I was capable of, what I am capable of. And I couldn’t bear the thought of that darkness corrupting you, of hurting you.”

Y/n stared at her, the weight of her confession sinking in. “You left because you thought you’d hurt me?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.

Agatha nodded, her composure fracturing. “I thought if I stayed, I’d ruin you. When I obtained the dark hold, everything changed. I no longer had control over myself. I was consumed by the power. And I couldn’t live with myself if I were to hurt you. So I left… I left to keep you safe.”

"You don’t get to make that decision for me, Agatha. You don’t get to decide what I can and can't handle. Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? How long I wondered what I did wrong? I needed you Agatha! I still do. But instead, you left me to suffer alone. You did hurt me.”

"I know, I know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you'd be better without me," Agatha said regretfully, grabbing onto Y/n's arm in solace. "I see now I made the wrong decision."

Y/n back away from Agatha's touch. "That means nothing. That doesn't fix anything. And just then, you were acting like you can take claim over me?"

“I never stopped loving you,” Agatha blurted, desperation bleeding into her words. “Not for one second.”

Y/n froze, the rawness of her confession slicing through the layers of anger and pain. “That doesn’t change what you did,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t erase the centuries I spent trying to heal the wounds you left behind.”

Agatha took a hesitant step closer, her hand reaching out but stopping short of touching Y/n. “I know, and I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it,” she acknowledges. “I just need you to give me another chance, to give us another chance, to end this heartbreak I've brought upon us,” she pleads, borderline shaking

Y/n takes time to respond, mouth open, trying to muster the words she needed to say. “I...I d-don't know if," she stutters, but her voice is silenced by the connection of Agatha lips onto hers. Agatha’s hands find Y/n’s waist, urgently pulling her into her arms. Y/n melts into her immediately, her mind racing with memories and unresolved emotions. The heat of the kiss spreads through her veins, the walls she’s built begin to crumble. Her hands grasping at Agatha’s shoulders as if anchoring herself to the moment, to her.

The kiss deepens, and time seems to collapse around them. It’s been centuries—centuries of separation, regret, and longing—and yet, none of it matters anymore. The world around them fades away, leaving only the warmth of Agatha’s lips and the electricity sparking between them. Agatha’s fingers trace the curve of Y/n’s back, igniting sensations long buried. Y/n’s hands slip from Agatha’s shoulders to cup her face, the touch tender yet desperate.

When they finally break apart, their foreheads rest against each other’s, their labored breathing mingles in the cool air of the night. Agatha’s thumb brushes gently against Y/n’s cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. Y/n’s eyes flutter open, meeting Agatha’s gaze—a mixture of vulnerability, remorse, and unyielding love. Agatha holds onto Y/n face delicately, searching hopefully into her eyes. Y/n's eyes water, grasping her hands lightly onto Agatha's wrists as she bites her trembling red-kissed lip. It takes her a bit to form a decision, trying to decide if she could fully trust her again. "Okay," she says, her lip quirking into a small, vulnerable smile. The word lingering in the air.

Agatha’s breath hitches, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief. "Really? Are you sure? I know I made the wrong choices, but I will spend every second of the rest of my existence I have to fix the damage I've cause. I will give you the love you've always deserved, my love," she vows. For the first time in centuries, Agatha looked vulnerable—her mask of confidence shattered, leaving only raw emotion behind.

"I'm sure. As much as I tried to hate you for leaving me, I never could. I've loved you for centuries, and I'll love you for centuries more." Her voice softens, but the conviction in her words is unmistakable.

Agatha lets out a shaky laugh of relief, and without another word, she pulls Y/n into her arms. They hold each other tightly, as though trying to make up for the centuries of separation in this single embrace. The weight of the past doesn’t vanish, but for the first time in a long time, the future feels possible.

Their forms are cast under the moonlight, a glow bathing them as they stand intertwined in each other’s arms. The world around them seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the steady rhythm of their hearts. The love between them begins to grow stronger with each passing second.

The moonlight reflects in their eyes as they pull back just enough to share a small, soft smile. Agatha presses a gentle kiss to Y/n’s forehead, a silent promise of devotion, while Y/n rests her head against Agatha’s shoulder, finally allowing herself to relax in her embrace.

Together, they turn back toward the firelight in the distance, where the others wait, knowing the journey ahead will not be easy. But as they walk side by side, their hands entwined, it is clear that they are no longer burdened by the weight of loneliness. Whatever comes next, they will face it together—two souls bound by a love that time could not destroy.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Could I ask for courting/relationship headcanons for my pathetic boy Idia in your AU?

Sorry, this took a while.

Man, poor OG Idia already has it hard as a cursed human, he's not the type to make the first move, even with his brother providing him with all the evidence and statistics showing him that you would accept his feelings.

But now we're adding him being a big spider with those courting and mating instincts that conflict with the guy's other anxiety-driven instincts telling him to avoid it all and that everything would go wrong and that you would tell him “Ew no, you're a gross spider that’s blue all over.” and then poke him with a stick.

Most spiders tend to be solitary creatures, they don't live in groups and only come together when it's time to find a mate. It doesn't happen all the time but it’s common for the males to get eaten after mating or even before they have the chance to when their advances are rejected. Now that is for regular spiders but there might be a chance of it if you go up to the wrong person and these guys still have those instincts telling them to be warry thanks to their ancestors. People always say “The worst that can happen is they say no.” But really there's the chance they might say “Ew no” which is way worse. Or the extra way way worse when you are a spider cuz your crush might get freaking aggressive with you and take a bite out of you. You being a little human def ease his worry about the latter, but not the former.

It's later after you guys start to hang out that he starts to be a snarky little shit, who knew such an anxious guy could have so much sass. He’s a weird combination of having issues with self-loathing while also having a big ego. It's one of those times where he starts mouthing off that you do actually try to bite him, he was legit scared for a sec but once he saw those little teeth of yours couldn’t even make a scratch on the exoskeleton on his arm, he gets super freaking smug, and now he’s even more of a shit when teasing you.

With Idia romantic feelings will develop slowly over time after becoming friends though. It's def a new feeling for him, he gives me demi-ace vibes and I think this would be the first time he had this kind of interest in a real person, it was always fictional characters before.

But also I feel like with him it could turn into him thinking these fillings are just how it feels when you have a best friend since he’s only had his brother for all those years and you're the first person outside of his family that he felt this comfortable around and when he actually does these courting behaviors its subconscious and his instincts are kicking in and his brother is actually the one to point it out.

The male of the orb weaver family (Araneidae) and some others court by rhythmically plucking the threads of a web. After the female approaches, he pats and strokes her before mating. I head canon that not only is he able to create webs but they are cool and glowy and he makes a cool hammock for you to chill in sometimes or even hang out with him on one he made for himself…and then without thinking when you're leaning against him and enjoying the soft blue floof of his legs he gives you a few gentle pats and baps with spider paw and Ortho lets out a gasp and startles him. Oh, he gets so embarrassed once Ortho starts asking him about how long he’s been courting you and how he’s so proud that he made the first move despite his anxiety. Hopefully, he does his questioning after you're out of the room.

(Oh, to be patted by one of his cute spooder paws.)

Or perhaps…he pulls a male wolf spider and ends up doing that purr after you say or do something that hits him in those feelings and oh boy, he is so embarrassed when he realizes he did it thanks to your excited reaction to hearing it. Though it hurts his ego a bit when you squeal about how cute it is…I mean…even if he didn't mean to do it, it was supposed to be sexy…still with spiders if you're rejected you either get ignored or attacked…even though he knows better, the inhuman part of his brain is telling him your positive reaction is a “yes” to getting with him which lends to him actually considering that this might actually work out and that Ortho is right. 

(Tbh I don't get why the video says it's creepy, it kind of sounds like bird sounds to me.)

Silk-wrapped gifts and offerings, expect snacks and games. Though admittedly he’s going to give you ones that he wants you to play with him. Beating a boss in co-op counts as a date…right? Right. Best believe he’s gonna be getting you hard-to-get items in game, armor, and whatever else. It’s easy to forget his rich until he gets you some decked-out gaming computer or that handheld you wanted, all wrapped in glowing blue silk of course. Actually, driders giving gifts made of their silk is very much a thing they do but Idia mostly does small simple things, expect to get really cool bracelets and hair ties infused with his scent. He gets so happy and so smug if he sees you wearing them.

I found out recently that another thing some males will do is do sort of a silk-involved message, though I think that is another thing he would do after you guys start dating and not before to...get you in the mood.

The massaging motions of the spider are officially called mate binding. Basically, the male massages the female, so that she'll allow him to mate with her, without killing him before he gets the chance. The male spider releases silk over the back of the female as he massages her. The same study also suggested that it was the feeling of the massage that soothed the female, and not the smell of the silk as some scientists suggested.

NSFW: I just found out that Darwin’s bark spiders figured out they're less likely to get eaten by ladies if they do oral. Do with that info what you may.

[dee-writes-angst]

DAFFODILS (Chapter One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY The Spring Court has gone to shit, and while you would normally be able to tolerate it, the new discovery that you were pregnant pushes you to the gates of The Autumn Court and unknowingly into Eris' arms.

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy, Eris being a slight douche (you know how it is yall), violence (reader is kicked in the stomach), and mentions of Tampon (Tamlin).

AUTHORS NOTE who's excited for the kick-off of yet another series? I am! Of course, I had to start an Eris series, I love him too much not to! Strap in, darlings, I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The once vibrant Spring court had gone to shit, a shadow of its former glory. Tamlin, the once revered and compassionate High Lord, had vanished, abandoning his people to suffer in the decay his negligence had allowed to fester.

Amid the desolation, there were attempts to salvage what remained of the Spring Court. Lucien's name surfaced as one who strove to preserve our home. I recall his desperate sacrifice on Calanmai, offering himself to Ianthe in a futile bid to rescue us. He still occasionally visits, perhaps clinging to a hope that he might stumble upon signs of revival, our High Lord restored to his former benevolence. Yet each return only reinforces the stark reality of our decline, leaving him unsurprised by the sight of our dwindling realm.

And now, here I stand, just beyond the borders of the Autumn Court, clad in nothing but the ragged remnants of my escape, imploring the impassive sentries to grant me sanctuary within their walls. They offer no response, their stoic countenances unmoved as I plead and weep at their feet.

In my disheveled state, I must present a pitiful sight—my attire threadbare and stained, my once-glamorous countenance marred by streaks of dirt and smudged cosmetics, my limbs adorned with bruises like macabre adornments.

As I teeter on the brink of desperation, a voice cuts through the stillness, emerging from the depths of the forest to my right. The guards snap to attention at its sound, their posture stiffening even further, if such a thing were possible, in deference to its commanding presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, belonged to a man with cascading locks of fiery hair, who strode forth from the underbrush with an air of regal authority.

Gods, he was a vision to behold. Despite the earthy stains marring his attire and the tousled state of his tunic sleeves, he exuded an otherworldly allure.

"A mere denizen of the Spring Court, attempting to beg her way into our domain, my lord," one of the guards grumbled, offering a curt bow before callously nudging me aside with his boot. I winced as the blow landed squarely in my stomach.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, you imbecile!" The fiery-haired man's voice dripped with disdain as he strode forward, confronting the offending guard with palpable fury. "Can you not discern her condition, you fool? She carries life within her."

My heart lurched as I instinctively cradled my abdomen, a protective gesture born of maternal instinct. Though every fiber of my being yearned to retaliate against the guard's callousness, I forced myself to breathe deeply, refusing to succumb to the animalistic urges that society expected of Spring Court members in these desperate times.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired, his amber eyes ablaze with a captivating mix of concern and authority, their gaze so intense that it stole the very air from my lungs.

"I'm… I'm fine," I managed to utter, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair obscuring my face and inhaling deeply to steady my frayed nerves.

"I must apologize for the behavior of my soldier. Rest assured, appropriate measures will be taken, my lady," the man assured me, his smile radiant as he inclined his head with graceful deference. His charm nearly brought a wry laugh to my lips.

"No need for such formalities," I replied weakly, the weight of my displaced status as a refugee gnawing at my throat like a persistent ache. But I steeled myself with the thought of my unborn child, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "I am no longer a lady—well, not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"How so?" the man persisted, his expression a blend of curiosity and genuine concern, prompting me to draw my arms tighter around myself.

"I find it quite audacious for someone whose name I don't even know to ask such personal questions," I retorted, feigning a hint of indignation that rang hollow even to my own ears.

"Fair point," he conceded with a charming grin, though his adherence to formality still grated on my nerves. "Allow me to rectify that oversight. My name is Eris. Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court," he declared, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and weariness wash over me at his introduction.

Eris. Lucien had spoken sparingly of his older brother during his time in the Spring Court, but whenever he did, a profound sense of affection tinged with melancholy colored his words. I shook myself from my reverie, extending a hand in a gesture of polite acknowledgement as I reciprocated with my own name. Eris repeated my name softly, testing it on his tongue, and my heart twinged at the striking resemblance in mannerism between him and Lucien, one so distant yet familiar, the other painfully close.

"Now," Eris began, his hands making a smooth, sweeping gesture that hinted at his readiness to delve deeper into the matter at hand, "what brings you to the borders of the Autumn Court, my lady?"

"The Spring Court is…" My voice faltered, and I let out a weary sigh, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach for comfort.

"It's gone to shit," he finished for me, his smirk sharp but not unkind.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite so bluntly, but yes," I responded, my fingers tracing small circles over my abdomen. "That place and its ruler are no fit environment for a child. Considering the proximity of your court, I was hoping I might find a new beginning here."

"What about the father?" Eris inquired, one eyebrow—a mirror image of Lucien's—arching skeptically.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look at my well-worn shoes. How does one tell the Heir to the Autumn Court that they are pregnant with his youngest brother's babe? How does one also explain how he is mated to another female, that they knew as soon as that brother found out about said babe, he would give up all hope to find his true mate in order to be there for his child?

"Not in the picture," I manage to say, my voice faltering slightly as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, a gesture betraying my discomfort.

Eris hums, a low, thoughtful sound that vibrates with suspicion, his striking eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes my uneasy demeanor. The weight of his gaze feels like it could peel back the layers of my hastily constructed defenses, compelling me to confront truths I'd rather leave unspoken. Eris's scrutinizing gaze doesn't waver, and the silence stretches taut between us like a bowstring. "Not in the picture," he echoes thoughtfully, each word heavy with the promise of unasked questions.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settling around us. The air in the forest seems to hold its breath, the usual whispers of leaves and distant calls of woodland creatures falling into a hushed reverence. "And you must understand, my lord, that my child is my utmost priority," I assert with unwavering resolve, emphasizing his title with a hint of disdain, as if challenging the very foundations of our unequal stations.

The guards stationed behind me draw in sharp, anticipatory breaths, seemingly prepared for their lord to mete out swift retribution for my boldness. I steel myself against the expected blow, a silent rehearsal of defiance.

Yet, the expected strike does not materialize. Instead, Eris regards me with what could only be described as admiration. His gaze, intense and calculating, appraises me not as a threat, but as a formidable presence in my own right.

"Well, little fox," he begins, his voice carrying a playful undertone that belies the depth of his contemplation. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if to physically underline his ponderings. "It appears you've presented quite the compelling argument for yourself here."

The use of "little fox" — a term perhaps meant to denote cunning and resilience — sparks a flicker of amusement within me, mixed with a surge of cautious optimism. His demeanor suggests a blend of challenge and respect, hinting at a dynamic that could evolve beyond mere formalities or supplications. This man before me is not just the heir to a court; he is a strategist weighing his next move.

"You seek shelter for yourself and the babe?" Eris inquires with a hint of slyness, as if to subtly test my resolve, though it's a point I've already made abundantly clear.

"Indeed," I retort sharply, refusing to waver under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

"Then shelter you shall have," he declares, pivoting on his heel to fix the guards with a stern glare. "You will allow her passage," he commands, his tone uncompromising. The guards, obedient to their lord's decree, quickly acquiesce, parting to allow me entry with a mere flick of Eris's wrist.

The heady scent of spices and autumnal freshness assaults my senses as I approach the threshold, beckoning me forward with its tantalizing allure. It's as if the very essence of this court implores me to embrace my true purpose, to seize control of my destiny without hesitation. The boldness of it all catches me off guard, stirring a sense of rebellion that courses through my veins like wildfire.

Pausing at the threshold, I find myself suspended between the tranquility of the wilderness behind me and the vibrant chaos of the court ahead. I hesitate, grappling with the weight of the choices that lie before me.

Eris slows his stride beside me, as if attuned to my uncertainty, and extends his arm—an offering both courteous and suggestive. His demeanor exudes confidence and assurance, as if he expects me to surrender to his lead without question.

But I refuse to yield to the expectations of courtly decorum. Chin held high, I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, ignoring the disheveled state of my attire as I assert my independence. My feet remain firmly planted, refusing to advance until I am ready, on my own terms.

Eris's arm lingers in the air for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at my defiance. His amber eyes search mine, silently probing, yet beneath the scrutiny, I detect a glimmer of curiosity and… respect.

"I am quite capable of managing on my own," I declare, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

His expression softens, and he nods, gracefully retracting his arm. "As you wish," he concedes, gesturing for me to take the lead as we finally step through the threshold together.

The walk through the streets of Autumn was like stepping into a painting come to life. The cobblestone pathways wound gracefully between quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant splashes of ivy. Overhead, colorful banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their designs depicting scenes of seasonal splendor and courtly festivities.

Stands and stalls lined the streets, each one a miniature wonderland of treasures waiting to be discovered. From intricately woven tapestries to gleaming trinkets and baubles, the offerings were as diverse as they were captivating. Merchants called out to passersby in melodious voices, their wares displayed with care and pride.

The smells that wafted through the air were a symphony of sensory delights. Spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, their fragrances intermingling in a tantalizing dance that made my mouth water. Roasted chestnuts crackled and popped over open fires, their warm, nutty aroma floating on the breeze alongside the sweet perfume of ripe fruit and fragrant flowers.

Eris's sudden change in direction pulled me from my reverie, my gaze following his lead as we approached a magnificent structure nestled within the heart of the Autumn Court. The Forest House loomed before us, its grandeur and mystique commanding attention as we drew nearer.

Surrounded by a wrought iron gate, the house stood as a bastion of elegance amidst the bustling streets. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches reaching out to embrace the ancient structure with a sense of reverence. Vines climbed the walls, their verdant tendrils weaving intricate patterns against the weathered stone.

The sight of the Forest House sent a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to the aura of power and mystery that seemed to emanate from its very core. It was as if the house held secrets untold, whispering tales of bygone days and forgotten legends to those who dared to listen.

"Wait!" I called out, the urgency in my voice halting Eris in his tracks. His steps faltered, and he turned to face me, a glint of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across his features, lending an air of intrigue to his already enigmatic presence.

"Yes?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with playful curiosity, his smirk hinting at secrets hidden just beneath the surface.

"What's going to happen to me? Where will I stay?" I blurted out, the fierce confidence I had summoned earlier dissipating like morning mist in the face of uncertainty. Nervously, I began to pick at my nails, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

Eris regarded me with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had anticipated my question long before I had voiced it. "You will stay with me, of course," he replied simply, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance that belied the gravity of his words. There was a subtle confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that spoke of his authority within the court.

I recoiled at his casual response, a surge of apprehension coursing through me. "But what about Beron? Won't he object to having a… a lowborn in his household?" I ventured cautiously, the weight of his father's disapproval looming like a specter in the back of my mind.

"Nonsense," Eris scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest in a dismissive gesture. "You are now a member of this court, and given your condition," he added with a subtle nod towards my abdomen, "it is only fitting that you reside in more suitable accommodations." His words were tinged with a hint of defiance, a silent challenge to anyone who would dare question his authority.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind, uncertainty clouding my thoughts like a thick fog. "Absolutely not!" I protested vehemently, a surge of protectiveness coursing through me as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, as if to shield my unborn child from the absurdity of Eris's suggestion. "I refuse to stay in your chambers, Eris. It's… it's utterly preposterous."

Eris's eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze holding a hint of amusement mixed with something darker. "Stubborn, aren't we?" he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But if you prefer to sleep on the streets, far be it from me to stand in your way."

His words, though seemingly casual, carried a sharp edge that hinted at the depth of his cunning. It was a subtle reminder of his position of power, a reminder that I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not.

I bristled at his thinly veiled threat, my jaw clenching as I met his gaze with a glare of my own. "You wouldn't dare," I challenged, though a flicker of uncertainty danced behind my eyes.

Eris's smirk widened, the glint in his amber eyes turning predatory. "Try me," he replied, his tone dripping with promise and menace in equal measure.

With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly relented, realizing that I was in no position to defy him. "Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth, my hand slipping from my stomach to clench into a fist at my side. "But don't expect me to thank you for it."

Eris's smirk softened into a smirk, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Who said anything about gratitude?" he mused, his voice low and husky. "I'm merely extending a courtesy to a fellow refugee."

His words were laced with sarcasm, a reminder that his generosity came with strings attached. It was a stark contrast to the charming facade he wore, a glimpse of the ruthlessness that lay beneath.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat as I followed him towards the Forest House. It was clear that my time in the Autumn Court would be far from easy, but as I glanced back at the crumbling ruins of the Spring Court behind me, I knew that I had no other choice.

As we reached the grand doors of the Forest House, Eris turned to me with a smirk. "Welcome to your new home, little fox," he remarked, his tone dripping with irony. "Try not to get too comfortable."

My brows furrowed at his words, suspicion creeping into my mind. "What's the catch?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Eris chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Though I do have one condition," he said, his smirk widening into a grin.

"And what is that?" I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"You must walk with me once a day for the duration of your stay," Eris declared, his tone teasing yet firm.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking," I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my voice.

Eris's grin widened, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he retorted, his tone challenging.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a surge of defiance rising within me. "This is ridiculous," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won't be your captive audience."

Eris's expression softened, a hint of something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "It's not about being captive," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Consider it… a chance to explore the court, to clear your mind. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I could use the company."

I bristled at his suggestion, my pride warring with my better judgment. "And if I refuse?" I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.

Eris's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then you'll miss out on some truly breathtaking views," he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine," I relented, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Eris's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come to enjoy it more than you think," he remarked cryptically, before turning to lead the way into the Forest House.

As Eris escorted me to the grand Forest House, his steps were measured, exuding an air of regal confidence that was unmistakably his. His fiery locks seemed to dance with each movement, and his amber eyes held a glint of mischief, hinting at the cunning that lay beneath his charming exterior.

Upon entering my chambers, Eris's gaze swept over the room with a critical eye, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I trust the accommodations meet with your approval, my lady?" he inquired, his voice smooth as honey but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk of my own at his thinly veiled jest. "They're quite lovely, thank you," I replied, matching his playful tone with one of my own.

Eris's smirk widened into a grin, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips. "Excellent," he remarked, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to survey the room once more.

As I explored my new surroundings, I couldn't help but notice Eris's watchful gaze following my every move. It was as if he were sizing me up, gauging my reactions to the opulence that surrounded us. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, a depth of character hidden behind his charming facade.

Spotting the single daffodil on the table near the window, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. It was a quintessentially Eris gesture—playful yet meaningful, a subtle reminder of our earlier exchange. I picked up the note beside it, the elegant script a testament to Eris's attention to detail.

"I will be seeing you real soon, little fox. Wouldn't want you slacking off on our daily walks now, would we?" the note read, the teasing tone perfectly in line with Eris's mischievous nature. I couldn't help but smile at his audacity, the unspoken challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within me.

Setting the note back down, I turned to find Eris watching me with a knowing smirk, his amber eyes alight with amusement. "I take it you approve of my choice of decor?" he quipped, the smirk widening into a grin as he met my gaze.

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "It's certainly… unique," I replied, the hint of sarcasm in my tone mirroring his own.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

[bingbongsupremacy]

Library MeetCute

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hinted Plus!Sizereader

Warning: Y/N use, mentions reader being plus size but not heavily expanded upon

Summary: You're artsy and chubby. All you were trying to do is study in the library. Why does Steve want to sit with you? Will something come from this?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

The library smells like dust and old paper, one of your favorite scents in the world. It’s a quiet sanctuary away from the gray, drizzly Hawkins day outside, and you’ve taken over a corner table with your research. Stacks of books surround you: art theory, nature photography, and one random volume on the history of Indiana for inspiration. Your sketchpad lies open, a pencil resting between its pages as you mull over ideas for the mural you’ve been commissioned to paint at the park near the middle school.

You adjust in your chair, feeling the fabric of your favorite oversized sweater shift against your skin. It’s one of those pieces of clothing that makes you feel good—soft, comforting, and paired perfectly with your black leggings. You tug at the hem instinctively, more out of habit than self-consciousness.

“Uh, excuse me?”

The voice catches you off guard. You glance up and freeze. Standing there, holding a slightly battered book, is none other than Steve Harrington.

You know him, of course. Everyone in Hawkins does. Former King of Hawkins High, current co-manager of Family Video, and resident heartthrob—even if his popularity has taken on a more grounded, approachable vibe over the years. He looks… well, a little frazzled. His hair, that famous Harrington mane, is still artfully messy, and his jeans are just tight enough to hint at his athletic frame. But there’s something in his expression—a mix of sheepishness and determination—that makes you blink.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from you. His voice is casual, but there’s a politeness in it you don’t expect.

“Uh… sure. Go ahead,” you say, scooping up your pencil and pulling your books closer to make room.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding into the chair. He sets the book down—a DIY guide to car repair—and glances at you briefly before flipping it open.

You try to go back to your sketchpad, but it’s impossible. Steve Harrington is sitting across from you, and your brain won’t stop supplying unhelpful commentary. What’s he doing in a library? Doesn’t he have better places to be? And why does he look like he’s actually trying to read that book?

After a few minutes, he clears his throat, looking up. “So… what’s all this?” He gestures to your table, his tone genuinely curious.

You glance at the mess of books, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness. “Oh, uh, it’s for a mural project. I’m painting something for the park, and I’m trying to come up with ideas.”

His eyebrows lift, and a smile tugs at his lips. “That’s awesome. I didn’t know Hawkins had stuff like that.”

“It doesn’t, usually,” you admit with a shrug. “It’s just something I’m doing to brighten the place up a little. It’s… not exactly a thriving metropolis.”

Steve chuckles at that, a sound that’s warm and surprisingly disarming. “Yeah, no kidding. Good for you, though. Hawkins could use some color.”

For a moment, you let yourself feel proud. He means it—you can tell from his tone.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward his book. “Fixing up a car?”

“Trying to,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “The Beemer’s been acting up, and, uh… mechanics are expensive. Figured I’d give it a shot myself.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “That’s impressive. Most people wouldn’t even bother.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, desperation’s a hell of a motivator. I’ll probably break it even more, knowing my luck.”

You smile, relaxing a little. He’s not what you expected. Not at all.

The rain picks up outside, a steady drumming against the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you glance at the clock, realizing how much time has passed.

“Great,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. “Didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“Same here,” Steve says, glancing at the rain. Then, as if on cue, he looks back at you with an idea forming on his face. “Hey, I could give you a ride. You know, if you don’t mind waiting for me to figure out my car situation first.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, why not?” He grins, boyish and easy. “Can’t let you walk home in this.”

Your instinct is to say no. After all, you’re you—curvy, artsy, and quieter than most—and he’s Steve Harrington. You’ve never been the type to attract someone like him. But he’s offering, and the sincerity in his voice makes you pause.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Thanks.”

Somehow, Steve’s car starts without much trouble. The leather seat creaks under you as you settle in, acutely aware of how much space you take up compared to his lanky frame. He doesn’t seem to notice, though.

“So,” he says as he pulls onto the road, “what’s the mural gonna be?”

You explain your vision—a vibrant scene of local nature, full of life and color. You talk about wanting to inspire the kids who play at the park, giving them something to look at that feels magical.

“That’s really cool,” he says, his voice full of genuine admiration. “If you ever need help, let me know. I’m not great with art, but I can hold a paintbrush.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation flows easily after that, and by the time he pulls up to your apartment, you’ve forgotten to feel awkward.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, turning to him with a small smile. “And for not making it weird.”

He grins, leaning one arm against the steering wheel. “Weird? Me? Never.”

You laugh again, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the heater. As you step out of the car, he calls after you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer. “If you ever want to hang out—or need more help with the mural—just let me know, okay?”

You nod, your cheeks warm despite the chilly rain. “I will. Thanks, Steve.”

As you walk up to your building, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe today wasn’t so gray after all.

[shenachigans]

BR33DING | Yukong

PAIRING: Transfem!Yukong x Fem!Reader

CW: smut, breeding (duh), sexually pent-up Yukong, brief mention of jealous Yukong, implied workers with benefits, bottom female afab reader

SUMMARY: Yukong eventually succumbs to her desire to breed you.

A/N: I haven't done her story quest (I can't bring myself to huhu) so I'm not sure if her backstory is accurate. Also, wow, it took me a while to write for another HSR character. Think of this as my peace offering before I disappear again ;>

WORDS: 443

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

As someone dedicated to their position, Helm Master Yukong is restless from her duties. But then she met you: someone who could wash her stress away in seconds. Your presence lifts her grumpy mood whenever things don’t go as planned, a habit from her past as a racer. 

You allow Yukong to use you as she pleases, letting herself indulge in your body as she wishes. She loves how pliable and obedient you are for her pleasure. Oh, how your mouth and hands artistically moved around her cock until your face and tongue got covered with her stringy release. 

Yukong, however, did not indulge herself in using your pussy. She had reasons you didn’t know, but she did make it up to you. Like you, her tongue and fingers were her instruments, pleasuring your nub and drooling hole. Calloused fingers grazed your silky walls as she fingered you on her lap in the comfort of her office. Foxian tongue brushed against your cervix as she made you sit on her face during work hours.

Your reactions were a sight, and your moans were music to Yukong’s ears. Not only would her ears and tail twitch, but her cock also. She has not made it known to you, but it was her forbidden desire to breed you — wanting to paint your walls white and fill your womb with her cum. She would only stop when you’re pregnant with her pups. But such a desire wasn’t in your agreement, for she refused to tell you about it.

As a former Starskiff racer, Yukong was prone to let her emotions consume her. She desired to win every race she competed in, but it was a greedy desire. She did not win every race. Thus, anger and impatience gained control in those moments. After all, she was a young foxian back then. If she were to let herself use your pussy, it would become a problem. Her desires were strong, and your flower was bait. Indulging herself in such would only make her lose control. Then again, self-control has its limits.

Yukong lost her composure when someone threatened to take you away: another hungry foxian setting their eyes on you, slowly whisking you away with their presence. Only then would she act upon her instincts and do as she desired. No one would dare steal you from her when you’re pregnant with her pups. The feeling of your pussy around her cock was euphoric. She had never been so drunk in pleasure. The way you clench your walls suffocated her length, milking her cock dry as if you were silently pleading for her to make you hers. 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this format! Please do tell me if you would want more fanfics written like these :)

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Harbinger (Rio Vidal x Reader)

ATTENTION: IF YOU DON'T KINDA WANT A SPOILER FOR AAA, THIS AIN'T FOR YOU. Catch up before reading. Thanks!

Summary: Not quite suited for the human world, you find your place among the shadows.

Words: 2522

Warnings: SMUT, dark smut (you're banging death, what do you expect?), blood play/kink, knife play? (not really but maybe?), language, dark!reader, death, mentions of death, seriously - there's some death, spoiler but I already put a massive disclaimer so if you're spoiled at this point, I can't help.

A/N: I finished this while getting toasty and my vv toasty partner proofread this, if we missed something... eh, no we didn't lol

The first time you met her - death incarnate - was probably the best moment of your life, during the absolute worst day of your life.

Quite a strange combination, huh?

Sitting on the steps of your former home, burning heat licked at your back, but never touched you. Later, when the trauma had lessened and the shock faded into numbness, you would remember shadow meeting flame, keeping the fire at bay. But for now, all you knew was that everyone in that home - in that place of torture and hatred and evil - were dead… and it was all your fault.

There were sirens in the distance and you knew it would take another ten minutes before they reached you. Before they demanded answers you didn’t have.

Cold, emotionless eyes glanced up in time to see a figure - long legs, the stench of wet earth and iron clinging like a perfume, dark leathers - dropping down onto the steps beside you. Where there should be warmth, there was nothing but a distinct lack thereof and an urge to inch away, though you ignored the instinct.

“Those two sure had it coming, huh?” a woman asked, face concealed by a heavy black veil. “I don’t blame you for lashing out. A monster and an enabler? Rotten to the core, really. And to burn down an entire house in the process? Dramatic - but effective.”

Curious tan fingers reached out to the black wisps clinging to your back, smirking as they curled around her digits like a cat wrapping around its owner. As if they belonged to her.

“How long has this been a thing?” she cooed, tone borderline mocking as shadow and darkness burrowed closer to her.

“Too long,” you answered, rough and crackling as ash worked its way up your throat. It was obvious what she was asking about; you weren’t in any state to shoo them away. Your control of the shadows was tentative at the best of times. Right now, you were just lucky that they were staying somewhat nearby.

“Or not long enough,” she argued, rising with a flourish. For a split second, you could see her countenance beneath the hood and stared into dark eyes, even as skull and bone became visible. Her brow arched, either with amusement or surprise you couldn’t tell, before a cocky smirk twisted her lips.

Truly, it wasn’t surprising to meet Death, except you’d expected her to cart you away with those in the smoldering home.

“We shall meet again one day, sweetheart. Until then…” she bowed low, teasingly, before disappearing with a stiff breeze that seemed to steal your breath as it vanished into the night.

-X-

The second meeting was less painful but equally-

“If you wanted to see me again, darling, you didn’t need such theatrics,” Death purred from the shadows as you stormed away from the fraternity. The screams of panicking college kids met your ears, grating your nerves, but you’d managed to escape before anyone had noticed your existence.

Or your involvement.

“My apologies, Lady Death. Next time I murder someone on accident, I’ll keep the dramatics to a minimum,” you groused, head down as you hurried away from another death you’d caused unintentionally - again.

This time, it had happened in less of a rage and more of a… panicked stupor? You wanted to live. You feared those stupid, drunken idiots were a danger to that. And the shadows you, unfortunately, command honored your wishes.

It was quiet and for a moment, you assumed - maybe hoped? - that the courier of souls had grown tired of your attitude and gone to collect her prizes, but as you turned a corner onto an empty street, your assumptions were proven wrong.

Hissing as a blade met the juncture between your throat and shoulder, your back slammed into sharp brick. The point was unnaturally sharp, perfect for carving away souls from bodies. Dark eyes stared at the crimson staining your flesh, hood falling away to expose a stunning woman. Here, without a soul to claim, she looked almost… human.

Supernatural, but human.

The steel slipped deeper into your skin and you moaned, in pain - and in pleasure?

I can figure that out later.

Death yanked it out and you whined, eyes slipping closed as blood poured from the wound, though it shifted from pitiful to needy as a cool tongue ran along the length of the gash. The sting lessened, but Death’s mouth remained on your collarbone, tongue and teeth lavishing the newly healed area.

“You taste divine,” she groaned before pulling away, staring at you with a calculating expression. Her eyes were hooded, but thoughtful. The blade slid over your skin again, though it did not pierce. She simply traced over it with the tip. “I could use someone with your… proclivities.”

Swallowing dryly, you arched a brow.

“I am Death. All roads lead to me, but I do not claim lives that aren’t yet mine. I only hunt those who have escaped me for too long. Death is the great equalizer - and the ultimate balance. To take only those who are bad or good upsets the great balance and blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed by the rhetoric instilled into her. “And Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are fucking it all up. All their ‘good deeds’ are upsetting that. I need someone to off-set them. For every good-“

“You need an evil,” you mumbled, eyes tracing the sharp line of her jaw as she grinned devilishly at you.

“Exactly!” she leaned closer, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “What do you say, sweetheart? Want to be mine for all eternity?”

It would’ve been so easy to say no. To try and live an utterly boring life in this miserable town. To settle down and hide away from the world. Hell, maybe you could seek out the Avengers and learn and join. All you had to say was…

“Yes,” you breathed, accepting your fate. She was going to follow you until you gave in, so why fight the inevitability? All roads led back to her. “I accept your gift, Death.”

“Call me Rio, sweetheart. Death is so… formal.”

-X-

Existence after Rio was… strange. No longer confined by mortal restraints, your power only blossomed as you became her Harbinger. Shadows would search you out, whispering the secrets of their owners, clinging to you like children finding their parents after getting lost. Darkness and shadow bent to your will; doing your bidding.

And once the humanity fell away, keeping the balance became less daunting. For every act of good the Avengers - or those adjacent - did, you completed a task of your own.

For years, it kept you busy. A life for a life, light for dark. You began to understand the need for such consequences.

“If you take away only those who are evil, good diminishes in those that are left. If no one can see evil, how will they ever know what is truly good, darling?”

But as things fell into place, your relationship with Death - Rio - shifted. Each deed, every act of devotion, was met with teasing praise and a fraction of affection (and more often than not, a new scar on your flesh that seemed to land near the others). And those moments - those flashes of endearment - would linger for days until you found yourself panting wantonly.

Yet no good deed ever goes unpunished.

It happened on a Tuesday. You were lounging in your temporary abode, scouring the television for something to keep your attention, when Rio came bounding through the door with a newspaper in hand.

“Aren’t those a bit outdated?” you chuckled, swallowing a heavy sip of your whiskey.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” she bit back teasingly before landing on the couch beside you. You lifted your tumbler in acknowledgment before downing the rest of the amber liquid. “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. The Avengers are no more.”

Pausing through your scrolling, you glanced over at her curiously.

“Seems the world doesn’t appreciate their great services,” she sneered, sarcasm dripping like venom. “But I’m certain that won’t stop the wanna-be do-gooders.”

Humming thoughtfully, you replied, “Well, I suppose that makes keeping the balance easier.”

“Maybe I’ll have less souls I’m owed to chase down,” she grumbled, tossing the paper onto your makeshift coffee table. “Just breaks my heart.”

You snorted, attention returning to the television. “Do you even have a heart?”

Your fingers barely brushed the remote before a steady, albeit light, weight fell upon your thighs and you came face to face with dark, devouring eyes as deliberate hands found the back of your neck, gripping the nape. Instinctively, yours fell to her waist, dragging her close as you tried to ignore the way her breath hitched.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, cool breath fanning across warm cheeks. “It’s black and it beats for you.”

You nearly suffocated beneath the flames licking their way up your belly. For a brief moment, you thought she was simply teasing but the intense, pointed - deep - stare left you breathless and questioning.

“Rio…” you exhaled, watching her eyes flutter closed as traveling hands slipped to your scarred collarbone. The sting was immediate as sharp, dangerous nails dug into the forever healing flesh but you made no move to lean away, embracing the ache.

“Are you mine?” she whispered, nose skimming yours.

“I think I always have been,” you breathed, relishing the low moan that escaped her parted lips.

Her fingers seemed to rip through scar tissue as her mouth crashed into yours possessively. Teeth and tongue and lips all blended into a singular feeling that left you floating. Swallowing her moan, your fingers dug into her hips with a grip that would pain mortals, though it only spurned her onward as she began a steady grind against your thigh.

“Fuck.” Her whine was music to your ears and you leaned forward, sinking your teeth into her neck. The flesh dipped beneath the force, yet never broke, which was both a blessing and a curse. Who wouldn’t want to leave their mark on such a stunning creature.

There really was something poetic about knowing you were going to fuck the purest embodiment of death.

Lifting her into your arms, you promptly settled her onto the large couch, hovering over her writhing, prone form. For a split second you regretted not having bought a bed but as incessant digits tangled in your hair and forced you down, you decided it didn’t matter.

Despite the lack of human warmth, kissing Rio was something you never wanted to be without. She tasted of the earth, which should’ve been off-putting but you didn’t mind it. It was natural and so wholly her. No glamours, no tricks.

Just Rio.

Your hand worked the button of her jeans, deftly unhooking it before your hand was under restrictive clothing, sliding over velvet skin. Wet flesh dragged along your fingers and Rio’s grip tightened in your hair.

“Don’t you dare fucking tease,” she growled, eyes darkening unnaturally before they rolled back slightly, lids slamming shut as three fingers found a home inside her. Your pace was brutal, barely giving her a chance to gasp in a breath before your thumb circled her clit.

There was a perk to being an immortal goddess. The lack of pain. You’d never have to worry about hurting the woman beneath you. Truthfully, you hardly felt pain anymore yourself, outside of the blade she wielded deftly. As if she were the only person to hold such power over you.

You moaned as her free hand clawed down your back, nails slicing the fabric of your shirt like a hot knife and leaving behind trails of crimson. Teeth snagged your bottom lip, biting until blood and shadow dribbled into her mouth before her tongue soothed the tear.

“Fuck,” she whined, “If you s-stop, I’ll k-kill you.”

Smirking, you tilted her head and buried your teeth into her neck once more, using the momentum of your hips to drive yourself deeper into her.

Heat twisted and arced inside you, burning away everything except the urge to worship this divine creature before you. This moment deserved to be immortalized: Rio, the Eternal End, bucking into each thrust, chasing your fingers, and you, her devoted Harbinger, rushing her to a swift release.

Mouthing over the tanned expanse of flawless skin, you moaned unabashedly as her walls tightened around you, trapping you inside. She was everywhere; in your mind, on your fingers, in your soul.

“Oh fuck, fuck, f-“ a silent scream stole the string of curses, nails sinking into your shoulder and holding on for dear life as you forced her through the first orgasm and immediately into her second. The arch of her back and the throaty moans made the claws in your muscles and your blood-slicked back worth it.

She slumped heavily onto the couch, breathless and glassy-eyed as she stared up at you. Leaning down, your lips found hers in a gentle, calming embrace as she crawled down from her high. The sting of her fingers leaving mangled flesh barely registered as you lost yourself in the goddess. Smirking, you slowly dragged your fingers into your mouth, cleaning away the wetness clinging to them, and the moan that reverberated in your chest was involuntary as her taste painted your tongue like fine wine.

“I needed that,” she laughed, a familiar, answering smirk upturning her lips. “But next round, the rest of these come off.” She tugged at the tattered remains of your shirt, watching hunks of cloth and thread tumble to the floor.

Next round.

Proof she wanted this to be more than a single instance in time. That filled you with relief, but something weighted and cold found its way into your stomach. Hesitating, you shifted to cup her cheek reverently. “My heart and soul are yours to do with as you please. I need you… to know.”

Whatever happened next, you needed her to know that she was wrapped irrevocably and inevitably around every piece of your very being.

The darkness faded from her eyes, growing almost soft as she peered into yours. She gripped your face in response, thumbs stroking below your eyes gently before a hand fell upon your heart.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Rules be damned. You’re mine,” she vowed and it was sweeter than any proclamation of love she could’ve ever bestowed upon you. “Those scars say so.”

Her fingers skated over the puckered flesh along your collar and you chuckled, realization washing over you. Those had never simply been sadistic foreplay.

“I’ll kill anyone who believes they can keep me from you. I wear your brand, after all,” you promised in return, relishing in her delighted, almost maniacal laughter.

Nipping at your jawline, she purred as fingers danced across the drying red of your collarbone, “Well, maybe I should add a few more. Just so there’s no confusion.”

“Maybe you should.”

[waytooinvested]

Crocodile Villain

‘No! Lena, please don’t do this!’

Kara struggled vainly against the chains that held her in place, the red sun lamp over her head more than a match for her feeble efforts. Lena laughed coldly. It was a good laugh, the laugh of a supervillain, and Kara fell to her knees in despair as it echoed around the cavernous chamber of her new lair.

‘Why shouldn’t I? The world has been telling me for years what a villain I am, and I kept fighting against it, bolstered by my best friend’s belief that I could be more than my genes.’

‘Lena, I’m-’

Kara tried to apologise again, but Lena didn’t let her, raising her voice and adding in an extra spike of venom as she continued her monologue.

‘Turns out you were just like all the rest: two faced. Deceitful. You never trusted me, I was just easier to handle if you kept me on a leash. A tame Luthor pet. How you must have laughed behind my back all those years.’

Kara shook her head, fat crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks oh so appropriately as Lena pressed a button on the console in front of her.

A trapdoor opened in the ceiling to release two bound figures, each of them writhing and struggling against their ropes like bait on a hook as they began to descend towards the specially built enclosure below. Inside it six large crocodiles perked up at the sight of their next meal, grunting in excitement and gathering with jaws agape directly beneath the squirming bodies.

Lena surveyed them with an air of detached indifference, then turned back to where Kara was once more flinging herself uselessly against her bonds.

‘Lena, PLEASE, this isn’t you, I know it isn’t you! You don’t have to do this!’

Lena surged to her feet, newly acquired robes swirling satisfyingly around her as she glared down at her former friend.

‘Don’t I? I know exactly who I am. I’ve finally embraced what it means to be a Luthor, and that’s all thanks to you, Supergirl. You can cry and beg and spout all the false platitudes you like, but just know that this is your fault. When these people die, it will be because of you. I am what you made me.’

With that Lena flipped two switches in rapid succession. With the first, the tethers holding her prisoners suddenly dropped them towards the waiting beasts below, and a second later the lights went out, plunging the pit into blackness.

Lena waited for the sounds of splashing and screaming to die away before she turned to the single remaining source of light in the room: the dim, ruddy glow of the red sun lamps. Beneath them Kara was limp in her chains, sobbing feebly. Lena had to push aside a brief, instinctive urge to go to her then, to wipe away her tears and wrap her arms around her. It was a vestigial response: as useless to her now as impacted wisdom teeth in this new version of reality, so instead of giving into it Lena simply stared down at Kara with a forced smirk on her face.

‘I believe now we understand each other. Goodbye, Supergirl.’

Right on cue Kara’s posture slackened from one of despair to the boneless slump of unconsciousness as a sedative dart shot from the concealed pipe in the wall and sank into the back of her neck. Lena waited a minute to be sure it had done its job, and then at last let her gloating posture drop into something more natural.

She stepped quickly into the pool of red light and pressed two fingers to the pulse in Kara’s neck (just to make sure), then released the chains that held her in place, easing her gently down to the floor. Now that her enemy was unconscious and unable to read into it, she unfastened the cape pinned to her shoulders (longer and more daunting that Supergirl’s little red security blanket: this was a proper cape, heavily draped and trailing and worthy of Maleficent herself) and flung it over Kara’s supine form. Just for the sake of tidiness of course, not because it was damp and chilly in this underground hide out, and without her powers Kara was as susceptible to the cold as any human.

That done, Lena turned the lights back up, bringing the crocodile pit and its victims into full view.

She tsked lightly at the sight of one of her crocs with its jaws stretched wide around a booted foot.

‘Careful, it would be a shame to ruin Italian leather on those teeth.’

‘Sorry Miss Luthor’ victim number one replied sheepishly, leaning forwards to prise open the jaws holding him in place and easing his foot our carefully.

‘I couldn’t resist having some fun with it. They’re so life like!’

Lena finally let slip a small, genuine smile.

‘Thank you Billy. And I must say your screaming was excellent – very convincing. And Dora: that choked off bubbling thing you did at the end? If I hadn’t known better I’d have sworn you really were being dragged down to a watery grave.’

Dora beamed as she uncoiled the last of the rope that was ‘binding’ her and stepped over one of the now inert crocodiles to reach the edge of the pit.

‘Thanks! I’ve been practising all week, my sister came busting into the bathroom to rescue me twice. I’m gonna have to be careful not to drown for real any time soon or there’s no way she’ll believe me.’

Dora laughed, and Lena nodded faux-seriously.

‘Better stay away from crocodile infested waters for a while then. The two of you are free to go now if you’re ready – just see Jess on your way out and she’ll sort out your payment. Get in touch any time if you need references, okay?’

The two young actors nodded and thanked her effusively, then made their way towards the exit, chatting happily about their good fortune in getting these parts. Lena smiled fondly after them. She loved drama students: even when the role was a two minute scene of violent death, she could always find someone up for taking on the job. It probably didn’t hurt that she paid extremely well for their acting and their discretion, but she could afford it, and she was all for supporting the arts.

Once they were gone she made her way back to the ridiculously ostentatious throne she’d had set up for herself and pulled out a tablet from the pocket concealed in its back (something so mundane ruined the whole vibe she had going here), then sent out the message that the scene was complete, and Supergirl could be taken to the pre-prepared safehouse where she would be monitored until she woke up and went on her way. While she was at it she pulled up her encrypted server, just to check that the shell corporations she’d set up were in place and that funding to the children’s hospital would continue uninterrupted once she callously and publicly withdrew her donorship next week.

Yes, everything was ready, and once that was done Lena had a few more evil schemes up her sleeve just waiting to be unveiled.

If Kara was going to treat her like a villain, Lena was going to act like one.

She’d always looked good in black.

[eywaseclipse]

The Songs of Freedom Chapter 10: The Asset

Characters: Sarentu OC named Kirani, So’lek, Mercer, Eetu

Synopsis: Kirani wakes up at the former facility in which she escaped from, only to find Mercer there, where she begins to receive brainwashing treatment..

Warnings: Violence, brainwashing, physical and mental torture, swearing 

Word Count: 1.6k 

Decided to go for a shorter chapter sorry!

Your lashes flutter as you drift back to consciousness, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips. The air is thick with the sterile scent of metal and chemicals, flooding your senses with nausea. Fuck. A searing pain rips through your body, every nerve screaming in protest as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. Blinking through the haze, you take in the stark white room, cold and clinical. A one way window looms to your left, its glass clearly impenetrable, while a small metal table sits motionless in the center sterile and uninviting.. 

You step closer, catching your reflection as you inspect the heavy metal collar locked around your neck. It’s violent reminder of your captivity. Your gaze shifts to the blinking camera in the corner, and without hesitation, you flip it off.

“Now, Kirani, is that any way to treat me?” Mercer’s voice echoes through the intercom, smooth yet taunting.“Fuck you!” you snap, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice. As if on cue, the doors hiss open. Two soldiers storm in, clad in heavy combat gear, their electric batons crackling to life as they charge straight for you.

Drained, both physically and mentally you lunge anyway, instinct taking over. Your fingers clamp around the soldier’s throat as you hurl him like a rag doll into the wall. A sickening crack echoes through the room as his spine snaps.

Before you can react, a searing pain explodes in your side. The second soldier drives his electric baton into your ribs, like a white hot poker burning through your skin, and slamming into your skull like a lightning strike.

“Ugh!” Your body convulses before collapsing onto the cold tile with a heavy thud. Darkness tugs at the edges of your vision as you flicker in and out of consciousness. Rough hands seize you, hoisting your limp form before strapping you down into yet another metal contraption.

“Stay still, you savage.” A soldier sneers, his suit pristine despite the filth of his words.

With no hesitation, you spit straight in his face. A sharp jolt erupts from the collar around your neck. The pain is instant, unbearable.“Fuck!” You yelp, body writhing against the restraints. Mercer steps forward, his shadow looming over you. A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face.“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Kirani… though I think we both know which you prefer.”

“I’ll die before I tell you anything pig” You hiss. This only entices him as he snickers with an evil smirk “Oh I figured as much. But we don’t want you for that. You see, we have a few new toys of our own here. This contraption has a funny little way of wiping the memory of its host. That way, we can make you more willing to comply…” He laughs slyly coming up to press several buttons on the stand next to you. “Then I will die than be one of your little bitches Mercer..” You croak in pain. 

“Do you catch my drift Kirani, you won’t have a choice. Run it” With a snap of his fingers the scientists behind the hologram monitors begin to type away hearing the machine whirl around you. Small wires begin to descend around your ears almost like a magnet latching themselves onto your temple. “No!” 

Completely helpless and strapped down your body writhes as hard as it can, desperate to escape the cuffs. “Don’t fight this kid, it’ll only make it harder for you.” Mercer laughs at your struggle. A scientist in white hazmat gear approaches your flank and somehow gently grips your neural queue. Sending you into a fit of rage, you hiss manically and thrash even harder, but to no avail you remain completely strapped in. With a prickling sensation of the queue you feel your synapses practically explode from overstimulation. The scientists forces you to bond with a mechanical contraption you can’t see. “NO!” You screech in agony.

“Now… let’s run Operation Echo.” 

Meanwhile at Resistance HQ the Day You Left

So’lek’s slumber is shattered by the crackle of your voice breaking through his throat comm. Instantly alert, he stiffens. “The sun rises with you.” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. Panic surges in his chest as his head snaps toward the spot where you were sleeping just hours ago. “Kirani, where the fuck are you!? Kirani!? Kirani!” Silence.

His body moves before his mind can catch up. Bursting into the main wing, slamming his fist down on the emergency siren. The alarm blares to life, its deafening wail echoing through HQ as red lights pulse against the walls.

Na’vi flood into the room, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm, but So’lek is already at the console, fingers flying across the screen. His throat comm the one he made for you has a tracker embedded inside.

The screen flickers, then locks onto a tiny green dot. His stomach twists as he watches it move fast and unrelenting deep into the heart of Kinglor Forest.

“What is it?!” A panicked Teylan rushes through the doors with Ri’nela. Priya falls in along with several other human allies with equally distraught expressions on their face. “They took Kirani. We need a search party.” So’lek doesn’t quite believe his own words watching the green light vanish suddenly through the forest. Fuck! “Everyone get your weapons we head East.” So’lek’s voice cracks as he commands the group.

Back at TAP Undisclosed Location 

The machine’s violent hissing causes your ears to bleed feeling the warm liquid tickle your skin, just as the blinding white light invades the back of your eyelids Mercer’s voice pops up. “Ambassador” A shock spreads through your body, ripping into your consciousness as a memory of your childhood at TAP invades everything “The Ambassador program will offer you a new life here on Pandora” 

You hiss in fear as Mercer chants more words, “Hallelujah, 2138, Sec-Ops, Massacre, Hells Gate, TAP” Your head screams in agony as memories seize your thoughts. An image of Alma standing over dead Na’vi lights up as she walks along wearing a gas mask inspecting the lifeless piles of bodies. 

Another image of So’lek is plastered in your mind, as he cocks his gun toward a young Aha’ri and pulls the trigger. “NO!” You scream out. “This is your fault Kirani..” So’lek sneers evilly. One by one more images conquer your mind manipulating your memories as you know it. “Mercer she’s fading fast, if you don’t stop you’ll kill her.” A scientist chimes in. A reluctant Mercer rolls his eyes at the inconvenience and raises his hand signaling to pull the plug momentarily. “Fine, that’s enough for today. Take her back to the room” 

Back at Resistance a Month Later

“So’lek we infiltrated another base, she wasn’t there.” Eetu stands in the main wing informing a weary So’lek. “Were there any survivors?” He croaks hoarsely. “No. Like you commanded. We found this though.” Eetu places a small bead onto the table, turquoise and round. A piece of your songcord that you took with you the day you were rescued from TAP. So’lek’s eyes light up with immediate recognition. You had sent him a message. They must’ve moved you to another base he thinks to himself. 

There were two main facilities where they brought you, the Classroom for TAP, and then the RDA Building. So’lek’s eyes zone in on the small but powerful bead, he knows what he has to do. 

Back at TAP Undisclosed Location 

The cold desolation of your room is pierced by the harsh fluorescent light, signaling your wake up call. “Prepare Asset for simulation,” a voice chirps through the intercom. The doors open suddenly, and you rise to your feet, ready for the soldiers to escort you to the training room. The collar around your neck a constant reminder tingles with the familiar threat of pain should you disobey orders.

You stand before a dark training room as holographic Na’vi rebels emerge, their forms flickering like ghosts. To your left, a table of weapons is laid out for you. You favor the Combat Shotgun, quickly loading the magazine, your fingers moving with practiced ease. The countdown begins.

“3… 2… 1… Begin,” an automated female voice commands. The green light blinks on, and the Na’vi holograms charge toward you. Arrows zip past, but you’re faster. You fire, the shotgun’s with lighting fast precision, your aim lethal. The first Na’vi falls with a thud, its arrow lodged in the wall behind you.

The others close in, their movements swift and deadly. Arrows cut through the air, but you’re already one step ahead of them, each shot from your shotgun hitting its mark. One by one, they fall, their bodies disappearing into pixels before your eyes. Your heart pounds as the timer ticks down.

Suddenly, the last Na’vi charges at you, spear raised for a lethal strike. You don’t hesitate. Steadying your aim, you fire, and the shot lands with precision direct hit.

The simulation ends abruptly, the room filling with the sound of an alarm as the holograms vanish. You stand in the silence, panting, your body still coursing with adrenaline.

“Simulation Complete.” The female voice pops up again. Behind you, Mercer and a team of scientists sit in their grounded sky box to protect themselves from you, “How long was that one?” Mercer inquires. “15 seconds sir. A new record” One of the colleagues replies. “Good… very good…” an evil grin emerges on his face. “Prepare the asset, wipe all memories. Get her ready for the mission.” “Yes sir..”

Previous

[wonyrs]

rainbird

enha maknaes x fmr gnr fluff, est. relationship warnings cursing, food wc 711 + library #

‘ school life with the enha maknaes! headcanon style

kim sunoo

somehow u two manage to make the uniforms a tad cuter than anyone else

never getting ur work done in any class fs (but u still pass? its the dawg in u) u two sit in the back of the room and have a whole station just for cute instagram posts

"aww babe u look so pretty today" "really? i should say that to u, love :3" cue the deadpanning from anyone in a mile radius of u

LITERAL GODS OF PHYSICAL TOUCH AND EVERYONE HATES IT. on the way to lunch? holding hands. dodgeball in pe? holding on to each other like ur lives depend on it. the weather a little chilly? "let me warm u up schnookums :>"

half of ur friendgroup think of u two as an ideal couple while the other half is done w ur shit (dw they love u)

when exams are coming up, u two hang out at each others houses to help each other with whatever u guys are struggling with

he has full faith in u passing the exams but still offers to calm u down by singing a song, giving u a massage, ordering ur favourite takeout, or anything that eases ur nerves :(

"don't be scared, y/n. ure the smartest girl i know, so theres absolutely zero chances of u failing this test, believe me!"

yang jungwon

ur boyfriend being a former class president and u being the current class president is either a blessing or karma for something u did in ur past life

"oh my gosh there's so many papers to send off, wonnie can you help me?" "nope, i stopped doing this type of work 3 years ago" before getting up and carrying all the stacks himself

when u mess up during a speech, be prepared for endless teasing while being reassured that u still deserve a spot in the council (thank u for fake tears and ur bf's soft heart)

if u have to stay after school to work on council duties, jungwon stays behind w u and uses the excuse that he needs help on his hw to be by ur side

he still takes the chance to lovingly bully ur ass

"u know, if u just refused the offer of being class prez we could be in my room rn watching the mlb movie" "babe be quiet before i actually lose it and start crying"

however, the longer he's with u, the more concerned he gets when he realizes that u leave school (alone) around 7 pm when the sky is getting dark and all sorts of creeps are walking around

he knows ure capable of protecting urself but his 'spiderman' bf instincts tell him to walk u home everyday no matter how late it is and tune out the fact that he'll get spanked by his mama for returning so late at night

"u forgot something, love. i need 10 kisses minimum for walking u this late, uberjungwon needs his payment!"

nishimura riki

fully believing in the 'hates almost everyone at school but has a soft spot for u' + the rest of enha trope for u two

yes he acts nonchalant to anyone's attempts at flirting w him but the moment u compliment his skills in soccer bro startings twirling his hair and encourages u to say more

"ki u did so good! ure like blue lock fr" "really? i did so good guarding right? and making that goal? and dribbling? right?" yappa yappa yapping /j

during free period, he drags u to the court and has u play a 1v1 with him

uses the excuse of 'fixing ur form' to get as close to u as possible and hes not ashamed of it

"yeah so u just position ur arm right here and-" "ok but can u loosen ur grip on my hips please, focus on the training babe " "shhhh"

OMFG i imagine him asking u out after winning a really important game with enha cheering him on at the back (big bros)

it'll be when u congratulate the team outside of the locker rooms when he just grabs u by the shoulders and professes a whole shakespeare typa love confession

his fangirls drop down sobbing the next day when u two walk in holding hands and he's carrying ur bag for u with the dopiest smile on his face

@ wonyrs 2023

note me when i dissappear for a month after my first post, come back with the trashiest post ever and a new layout LESGOOO anyways i hope u guys enjoy this and REMEMBER my requests are open so feel free to ask anything :>

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Furina with a reader that teaches her baking

Characters: Furina x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for 4.2 (nothing is explicitly spoiled, but it takes place after 4.2, so spoilers are kinda unavoidable)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Considering how much Furina loved sweets and how easy it was to gain her admiration simply by being able to make them, finding out you worked at one of Fontaine’s top bakery once and knew how to make almost everything was a pretty big surprise to her, the former Archon almost always finding a way to sneakily insert the topic into your discussions, hoping the conversation would somehow evolve until you offered to bake her something, only for nothing of the sort to happen.

So when Furina offhandedly asked if you’d be willing to teach her how to bake, almost having given up on the prospects of you ever baking her something, you were surprisingly quick to jump at the opportunity, your eyes sparkling as if she had just proposed to you before you quickly started rambling about ingredients, forcing her to snatch a piece of paper and a pen and try her hardest to keep up with you, your voice not slowing down for even a moment as you began pacing around the kitchen, looking for what you already had and what you still needed to buy, not even stopping to explain what it was that you were going to bake.

“So, now that we have everything prepared, we can finally start for real”, you stated excitedly, putting your hands on your hips as you looked over the admittedly cramped kitchen counter, before quickly glancing at the sink. “First of all, go put on an apron and wash your hands.”

“Why don’t you wash your hands as well?”, Furina spoke up halfway through the process of cleaning hers, only for you to look at her as if she had asked how to put on a hat, sending her mind scrambling as she recollected everything she said, looking for what part sounded so stupid.

“If I wash my hands, there’s nothing that stops me from butting in to do something in your place. That might result in a great cake, but won’t help you learn anything”, you explained as your face softened again, a smile making its way onto your lips. “Learning by watching is a great way to learn... I don't know, science, but all the fun stuff only gets taught through trials of fire”, you joked before quickly moving to her side, handing her a towel she could use to dry her hands.

“Today, you’re going to learn how to make ‘La Lettre a Focalors’. It may seem difficult at first, but with my instructions it will be a breeze, trust me”, you stated, sounding far too confident in your skills as a teacher, prompting Furina to wonder how often you had done so already.

“I didn’t know you still liked baking”, she carelessly mumbled out loud after following a few of your steps, noticing how you seemed almost more eager than her, causing you to stare at her in slight confusion, the resulting pressure quickly making her explain herself, “Didn’t you quit your job at the bakery? I thought you did it because you didn’t have any joy in it anymore.”

Almost instantly the confusion vanished from your face as you gave her a slight nod, “Ah okay, that makes sense now. I quit not because baking didn’t make any fun anymore, but because I found something else that I liked doing more. Baking’s still a big hobby of mine, I could even bake you something if you want”, you explained before instinctively grabbing the milk, almost beginning to pour it into what Furina was stirring only to stop yourself at the last second, taking a step back before letting out a chuckle.

“Next you can start pouring in the milk, I’ll tell you when to stop.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Secret Sorrows || 3 -B.Barnes

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Series Masterlist

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

It had been several days since the elder of the Astons had visited Van Alen's residence. Bucky found himself continuing his duty as a bodyguard for Ethan Van Alen, the sole heir of both conglomerate families.

If someone had said that Bucky would protect his ex-girlfriend's son, he would have laughed. But life worked in impossible ways. Here, he was doing just that.

While Bucky was on duty, he couldn't shake the need for answers about Y/N Aston. Despite learning that Iris and Y/N were identical twins, he still found it hard to believe. It was Iris, who had been with him back when they were young.

Yet, why did Y/N's actions mirror Iris's so closely?

If Y/N were more approachable, perhaps Bucky could find the answers. She might even tell him he was crazy. But with her busy schedule, stepping in for Ethan's father and managing both family businesses, she seemed almost impossible to talk to.

Y/N didn’t have time to comfort her only nephew. Since Bucky had to guard Ethan 24/7, he knew the kid wanted to talk to his relative. Both aunt and nephew lived in the same house, yet they rarely spent time together.

Bucky remembered Ethan's words, "My aunt is married to her job."

He thought it was a shame. Y/N was beautiful. With her status, she could have any man.

Wait, was she still single?

He shook his head, realizing how absurd it was to even entertain such thoughts considering Y/N was his employer.

Clearing his throat, Bucky walked towards Ethan's room, glancing at the kid's schedule. There were so many classes: foreign language, investment, fencing, public speaking, IT, swimming, and more.

Ethan was only 7 years old; he didn’t have time to play, especially since it was only a week after his parents' funeral.

Bucky knocked on Ethan’s door.

“Come in,” Ethan called out.

Bucky entered to find Ethan practicing the violin. Though classical music wasn't his preference, Ethan's skill didn't sound like that of a beginner.

Ethan stopped playing and placed the violin back in its case. “What class do I have next?”

“Swimming class,” Bucky replied.

Ethan sighed. “Can you teach me instead?”

Bucky hesitated. “If you want, but you know everything has to go through protocol.”

Ethan pouted. “At least, today, you have to accompany me.”

Bucky's instincts told him something didn't seem right. “Alright.”

Ethan went to his wardrobe; even at his young age, he had already been taught to pack his things. Bucky still found himself in awe of the kid's wardrobe room; it was bigger than his own bedroom in Antarctica.

While Ethan searched for his swimming goggles, he asked, “Has my aunt already left?”

Bucky replied, “Yes,” noticing Ethan's shoulders slump at the confirmation. He asked gently, “Do you want to talk to her?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, she’s busy. I don’t want to bother her.” Having prepared everything, he added, “Let’s go.”

When Bucky arrived at the swimming pool, he saw an athletic man. From the first impression, Bucky could already read him: overly proud and cocky.

“Bucky, right? I’ve been informed you’ll be the new guard. I’m alright if you want to join us,” the coach said.

Bucky gave a slight nod, glancing at Ethan. “Ethan, I’ll be standing here, okay?”

For a brief moment, Ethan's face brightened. Bucky wondered what made Ethan seem to not enjoy the class.

Ethan and the teacher did warm-ups before getting into the pool.

The coach instructed, “We will start with the freestyle and work on improving your lap times.”

When the teacher blew the whistle, Ethan began swimming to the other side. Bucky was impressed; for a kid his age, he was quite fast.

The coach checked his stopwatch. “1:50. You could do better than that.”

Bucky couldn't understand why the coach expected the little kid to go faster in a 100m freestyle.

"Again," the coach commanded.

"Again."

"You're getting slower."

Bucky held back his emotions when he noticed Ethan looking drained.

The coach looked down at Ethan and shook his head. "Your father would be disappointed with the result, Ethan."

Seeing Ethan sniffle and wipe his eyes, Bucky couldn't take it anymore.

He kicked the coach back and pushed him into the pool. The coach wasn't prepared and struggled to resurface before gasping for breath. Bucky held him under the water again.

“Can’t you see the boy is already breathless and exhausted?” Bucky questioned sharply.

The coach sputtered, "Wait… wait…"

"Do it again. I want to see how long you can hold your breath."

"Ugh."

Peter couldn’t believe what he saw. He rushed over from watching the CCTV to stop Bucky. "Bucky, what happened—"

Bucky shot Peter a warning look. "Get Ethan out of here. I need to talk to this guy."

Peter hurriedly escorted Ethan away, wondering why Bucky was so furious with the swimming coach.

Once they were gone, Bucky removed his black suit and throw it.

He pulled the coach from the pool like a fish. The coach coughed and caught his breath. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"A moment ago? Yes," Bucky admitted bluntly.

The coach's eyes widened. Never in his life had someone admitted to wanting to kill him straight to his face.

"I have a question: will Ethan enter the Olympics?" Bucky asked.

The coach shook his head. "No."

"Then why do you have to make him suffer like that? If that boy could talk, he would ask you to stop. But he can’t. As a teacher, you should know your students' capabilities."

"I only do what my employer asks me," the coach defended himself.

"Who? Miss Y/N Aston?" Bucky questioned.

"No! The Van Alen family," the coach confessed.

Bucky's grip on him loosened. This information was shocking. Why did the Van Alen family treat Ethan like this?

"Get up, gather your things, and never set foot in this place again," Bucky commanded.

The coach protested, "You have no—"

"Miss Aston hired me to protect her nephew. It’s better if you resign before you lose your teaching license. You know what I’m capable of," Bucky warned.

The coach ran away, leaving Bucky to ponder the situation.

On the other side, Y/N had just returned from the company. Spotting Peter and Ethan, her nephew walking with a towel draped around him, she observed Ethan's eagerness as he ran toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Y/N asked Peter for an explanation, her expression remaining stoic as she listened to the summarized account.

Her heart ached hearing about her nephew's ordeal. Despite her typically reserved demeanor, a flicker of concern flashed in her eyes. She instructed Peter, "Tell Mr. Barnes to meet me at my office," her voice firm yet tinged with an underlying worry, before walking away.

Concerned, Ethan tugged at Peter's clothes. "Is Bucky in trouble because of me?" His voice carried a hint of apprehension.

Peter patted Ethan's back reassuringly, his tone gentle. "I'm sure he'll be alright. Don't worry." He tried to offer comfort to the young boy, knowing the weight of responsibility could be heavy on his small shoulders.

In Y/N's office, she was signing documents while Bucky stood before her, his presence commanding attention. She remained so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even lift her head when she spoke, "You want to explain why a half-naked man in a speedo ran away screaming from my house?"

Bucky answered casually, "Well, yeah, since I threatened him." His tone was nonchalant, but there was a hint of underlying tension in his voice.

Y/N looked up, her expression unreadable, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Bucky still wasn’t accustomed to looking directly into her eyes; there was something pulling at him that he couldn’t quite describe. "The way I do my job may be different from anyone here, but I can't let the person I'm protecting feel unsafe. Do you know Ethan's swimming coach did it on purpose, and it was ordered by the Van Alen family?" His voice carried a note of frustration, a rare glimpse of emotion from the typically stoic man.

Y/N didn't respond immediately; it seemed like she already knew.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky wondered what was wrong with wealthy people. She had everything, so why didn’t she want to mend her relationship with Ethan? His frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the tenseness of his jaw.

Bucky said firmly, his voice tinged with determination, "If you have at least 5 minutes, I suggest you talk to Ethan." With that, he left the room, his footsteps echoing with purpose.

Y/N's secretary clicked her tongue, then turned to her boss, her expression reflecting concern. "Do you want to fire him?" There was a note of uncertainty in her voice, wary of the potential repercussions.

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the closed door, "No, just fire the swimming coach." Her tone was decisive, yet there was a hint of resignation in her voice. She looked at her secretary, her gaze unwavering. "Cancel the rest of my schedule today."

“But, ma’am, you have an important call this evening." The secretary's voice held a hint of concern, recognizing the significance of the upcoming call.

"I will call them tomorrow. Send a formal apology letter," Y/N ordered, her tone final, a sense of determination underlying her words.

*********

Y/N went to Ethan's bedroom, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Ethan, who was playing blocks with Bucky, was surprised to see his aunt, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As she entered the room, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a sense of tension dissipating.

“Auntie,” Ethan greeted her, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Looking nervous, he turned to Bucky, who gave him a reassuring nod, his silent support evident in his expression.

Approaching Y/N, Ethan said, “Aunt, can I change my swimming coach?” His words were hesitant, a mixture of hope and apprehension lacing his tone.

Y/N replied, her voice calm yet distant, “Sure, I’ll call the Olympic coach.”

Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Bucky. “No, can Bucky teach me?” His voice held a note of pleading, a silent plea for connection.

Y/N responded, her tone neutral, “I don’t mind. You should ask him.” Her words were measured, a reflection of her reserved nature.

Ethan turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Bro Bucky already agreed, I just wanted to ask for your permission first.” There was a hint of excitement in his voice, a spark of hope igniting within him.

Bucky felt relieved that they were finally communicating, his expression softening with understanding.

Ethan continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. “And can I ask you another favor?” His voice was eager, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Y/N encouraged him to speak, her expression remaining impassive, yet there was a flicker of something in her eyes, a hint of warmth beneath the surface.

“For foreign language class, can I just study German and Korean? German engineering is great, and South Korea has good products, it's good for my future. For investment class, can I learn how to trade with real money? And can I study martial arts with Bucky instead of fencing?” Ethan's words poured out in a rush, his enthusiasm palpable.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his surprise evident in his expression. These weren’t typical requests from a 7-year-old, yet there was a sense of determination in Ethan's voice, a silent plea for understanding.

Glancing at Y/N, who didn’t seem surprised, he realized both aunt and nephew shared the same traits, a sense of resilience amidst adversity.

Y/N asked, her tone measured, “Anything else?” Her words were neutral, yet there was a hint of something in her voice, a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Ethan shook his head, his excitement palpable. “That’s everything.”

Y/N assured him, her voice distant yet tinged with a hint of warmth, “I’ll instruct my secretary to change your teachers, and give you the money for you to invest.” before leaving the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Bucky couldn’t shake off the feeling of Y/N being distant from her nephew, his concern is evident in his expression. He thought Ethan felt abandoned again, but it seemed he was mistaken.

Ethan ran to him, his eyes excitedly shining, exclaiming, “Bucky, did you see that? My aunt smiled today.” There was a sense of joy in his voice, a silent celebration of a small victory.

Confused, Bucky probably needed to get his eyes checked, as he hadn’t seen her smile at all. But as long as Ethan was happy, he would agree to anything.

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