#top right… op knew what they were doing.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Imagine telling op guys who has a crush on you, that you want to sleep with them. You just plop down next to them cuddle into them and fall asleep. It's just hem turning red and trying to calm down their thoughts

hehe, this is legit so cute. (tweaked the prompt to be a little more suggestive than just thoughts in the end.)

not a dream ft. the monster trio!

set-up: as anon asked! you happened to utter five simple words, "can i sleep with you?" to the op boys (who have a crush crush on you). now these idiots are contemplating if they'd make it out alive. warnings: includes nsfw thoughts!! no actual things happen but the guys are thinking very very perverted shit, so, if not comfortable please skip!!! m.list

luffy:

💗 you know luffy. do you think luffy— the guy who clings to everyone, doesn't know the word "personal" and "space", who will probably hug you even if you threatened to punch him— will really mind if you told him you wanted to sleep with him? fuck no. even if you stood in front of him with a "i like you, i wanna sleep with you" in a suggestive way, he would say something along the lines of "awh, i like you too. let's sleep."

💗 but well, this was different. cause he liked you. so when you decided to show up at his door after dinner with a cranky look, he was both confused and intrigued. "what's wrong with ya?" the captain mumbled as you sat next to him on the bed. "chopper and ussop. ugghhh." you groaned, "they're doing some stupid shit next door and making so much noise. there is no possible way i can sleep there. and im sure nobody else will let me crash with them tonight in their room." luffy would have probably leapt up and gone to join the other two fools had you not sprawled out next to him. you gave him a tired smile, "so, can i sleep with you?" 💗you hadn't even waited for an answer. mindlessly, you draped a hand over his torso and snuggled into his chest. he pulled you towards himself on instinct. this was normal. yeah. hugging a crewate. yeah. totally normal. atleast for him. then why was his heart beating so fast? mouth going dry? why was sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back although he knew the night air was frigid? 💗you shifted and your chest brushed against his. luffy swallowed wantonly as you shifted again. and then one more time. trying to find the most comfortable position, he guessed. mechanically, you pushed yourself further against him. and this motherfucker went as stiff as a washboard. "luffy?" you mumbled against his skin before tracing your eyes upward. from this position, your doe-eyes bore into his, "you don't mind right? it's just really cold, sorry." how could he mind? your soft body was against his. your fingers drummed faint melodies against his back and your hair smelled like some floral scented shampoo. every time you breathed out, the warm air caressed him and goosebumps painted his hands. he felt your peaked chest brush against his again and he almost swallowed his own tongue. "luffy?" you asked again, your voice saccharine. and he vaguely wondered how would the same voice sound if he tore open that flimsy top your were wearing and held your soft skin against his palm. or if he took the courage enough to dip his fingers below the waistband of your pajamas and felt you up. would you say his name like that? 💗 well, fuck. this was the captain had thought so much in his entire life. and they were thoughts about feeling up his crewmate's tits. and, as a result of such vigorous thinking, a problem had arose in his pants. he tried to think it away. tried thinking about sea-kings or hideous devil-fruit users. of alvida. or anyone else. he even tried to think of food so that his attention could be diverted. but even the most tastiest of sanji's pudding couldn't take away the throbbing in his cock. and the delicious feeling of your soft skin next to his. as a last resort, he prayed that you wouldn't shift more and feel his dick against you. he prayed you would take his silence as rejection and simply drift off to sleep. but ofcourse, this is a godless land. because you moved again. and when you felt his hard-on against your thigh, you looked up at him. lips caught between your teeth, blinking up at him almost innocently, you asked, "got a problem, captain?" before he could answer, you pressed forward, "i think i can fix it." on the other side of the ship nami burst into chopper and ussop's room. when she yelled, it probably could be heard over the entire ship, "LET US SLEEP, YOU MORONS. WE HAVE A LONG DAY TOMORROW. GO SLEEP OR I'LL FINE YOU BOTH A MILLION BERRIES PER MINUTE THAT YOU'RE UP." you're not sure if it was chopper or ussop crying in the distance. but oh well, you have a captain to please 🤭

zoro:

💚zoro's not even fucking sure how he ended up like this. he's sure it involved some higher-than-tolerable level of alcohol for both the parties involved. and he's sure it must have been your idea that he had drunkenly complied with. "let's sleep together" "okay" what was he thinking? because right now, you were sprawled against his chest. both of you were on his bed. his shirt was off, yours was barely on. a bit of drool peaked out from the corner of your lips. and he found himself quietly rubbing it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly to himself. ew?! was he still drunk?? as the realization set in, he pulled his hands back in wicked horror and looked around as if someone had seen him. it was still night, and in the middle of the night, the effects of the cheap booze must have wore off of him and he awoke to you as his bed. 💚"hey." he tried to shake you awake but you just groaned, sinking further into him. he hissed when you buried your face against his bare skin. he whisper-shouted, ignoring the goosebumps on both of your skins, "wake up. go back to your own room, woman." but you didn't shift an inch. instead, you stayed buried against him. he groaned but when his eyes fell back to your face, he couldn't help but fight off the impending blush that crawled up his face. your hair was a mess and your cheek was squished against his chest. you breathed softly and sometimes, your fingers twitched against his skin and you touched him fleetingly. and you were warm. too warm for his liking. he tried to look away but his hand carefully came up to your face. staying there not a moment too long, he dragged it downwards. over your shoulders and over your back. he stopped before he went too far and grabbed your ass, the curve so delicious in his eyes. but he stopped, pulling his hands back to lay on the linen sheets. he was a horny man, not an evil douche. 💚but you must have been hell-bent in proving flaws in his moral-code, because you shifted and your pelvis shifted over his. he bit back a grunt at the movement over the fabric. you were so cozy against him. the way you brushed up against him, the way your hair tickled him. would you like it if he pulled your hair? would you moan? god, what would you sound if you moaned out his name? he was a bad man. thinking all of those things. and he tried to focus on anything but the blood-rush to his dick, really, but the way you started moving against him, almost mechanically. god. that made all attempts to ignore his boner disappear. his hips moved upwards and he closed his eyes, giving into the friction of you against him. soft moans fell from his lips, hips still moving upwards to graze your clothed thighs. 💚"zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eye. you strained your neck up and he looked down at you, dazed. "you okay, zo?" when he found himself unable to talk and you found a harsh roll of hips under you, you connected the dots. a playful smile tugged on your lips, "need some help?" "no." the swordsman swallowed thickly. "fine." you shrugged, clamoring off him. your hips swayed as you made a futile attempt to find your discarded shorts somewhere in the room. you gave him a lingering look, "i should go back to my room. the crew will freak out if they find us like this." "no." he caught your wrist, tugging you towards him, "stay. i could use some help." 💚in the morning, sanji walked into the swordman's room to see if the moron could find you somewhere since you were nowhere to be found on the ship. what he found, instead, was you and the mosshead tangled in his sheets. when you and zoro had finally made it to the breakfast table, sanji may/may not have been crying. luffy, ussop and chopper were laughing in the background. nami decided it was a good enough reason to even high-five zoro. it was an awkward breakfast.

sanji:

💙sanji was probably in heaven. yes, that's the only explanation. sure, the ship was en route to alabasta but he was on his way to heaven. because there's no way you had come seeking him out in the middle of the night. you had said, "i can't sleep." "oh?" the cook had wordlessly stepped aside and you took on the opportunity to slip in. he shut the door behind you, "can i help you then, love? want me to cook something?" "i would have really not bothered you but i don't know who else to ask. nami and vivi are sleeping together and the bed's not big for the three of us." you rambled, "and zoro probably showered five months ago. and luffy, ussop and chopper are passed out in the common room. so... can i sleep with you?" it's a miracle he didn't pass out on hearing those words. it's an even bigger miracle that that was three hours ago and he had still not passed out. now, sanji lay next to you— as stiff as a corpse— while you snored. your body shifted and your hands reached out towards sanji. your palm ran up and down his torso as to check if he was there. and once you had gotten a confirmation, you scooted in his direction and sanji held his breath as if one wayward puff of air will wake you up. 💙vinsmoke sanji was trying. he was trying o maintain his composure, to not pull you into his chest. he was trying not to think about the way your chest will feel against his, the way his fingers will glide over your thighs, the way your hand will fit around his dic— and it was as if you could hear his wretched thoughts. because your hands moved over his torso. gliding up and down. you leaned into his touch, molding your body against his. you might have been having an interesting dream cause he saw your hips gently rocking, your thighs pressed harder and you eyes clenched shut. you buried your head into his chest and the smell of your shampoo seemed to turn him on more. he ignored his weeping dick, decided to pay it no mind. but all of that resolve crumbled when he heard you moan his name into the fabric across his chest. your nails dug into his shoulders and your nose buried as deeply as it could against his skin. 💙 he gently guided his fingers to your thighs. and you shook under his soft touches. his thumb softly brushed over your clothed pussy and bucked towards his hand. he could probably just feel you up and you'd let him— "—shit." sanji quickly brought his hand back, realizing that you were sleeping and out of it. even if your lips chanted his name, he couldn't do the things his mind was convincing him to do. because if he started, he wouldn't stop. 💙so, to get himself rid of such sinful thoughts, he decided to hide in the shower and pump at his hard cock till he was tired. till you crawled out of his head. till your voice stopped ringing in his ears, making his cock impossibly harder. he slowly pushed you away, trying to climb off the bed. but as soon as you felt his warmth disappear, you cracked open an eye, "sanji?" "uh" his face went red, eyes averting, "just going to the washroom. i'd be back." you sat up, "did i go too far?" sanji's mouth hung agape as you pulled him back into bed, "i thought you wanted me to moan your name like that—" "—wh-what?" "i had a dream." you innocently traced your index nail down his torso and brushed it over his sleeping shorts, "think you can help me?" you blinked up at him, "pretty please." 💙 the next morning, the cook of the crew made the worst breakfast possible. wasn't his fault. all he could think about was you and your breathless moans and your eyes as— "this tastes like shit." the swordman argued. "thEN MAKE IT YOURSELF, FREELOADER." "might as well if you're gonna cook so bad." "—i think it tastes fine." nami sighed, "if i knew you getting some would make you a terrible cook, i would have let (yn) sleep with me and vivi." and the entire ship choked on their (terrible) breakfast.

a/n: i tweaked the prompt a bit (as i was getting stuck with the original ask), but i hope this was good enough anon!! as always, thanks for reading and send in req that you might have <3 (tagging: @bokutosbiceps cause i know you love luffy) m.list

[loulovingho]

prompt: buck gets hurt at a scene due to gerrard. tommy is working ground ops and becomes livid with gerrard. maybe someone has to pull tommy off of him! anyway, buck ends up finding it hot.

“In one word, how would you describe Tommy?”

“Uh... cool.”

“Firefighter Buckley! E- Evan! Evan! Do you copy?!” His heart was racing. He could feel it pounding in his ears.

He didn't wait long for a response. Didn't go back for his helmet or his oxygen. He just ran. He ran past the rest of the 118, who yelled at him to wait. He tore loose of the grasp that Eddie had on him for a brief second. He ignored the way his eyes started to burn before he even got in the building. He gasped and choked against the dryness in his throat as soon as he was inside.

He only had to take a few steps in when he was stopped by a caved in ceiling that blocked any path. That didn't matter anyway, because somewhere underneath the ceiling was Evan.

Evan, who shouldn't have been in the building anyway.

Evan, who had yelled over the radio that he could hear the structure beginning to collapse.

Evan, who cut out before he could finish relaying the information because the ceiling fell on top of him.

He was under there somewhere.

And Tommy was going to dig him out or die trying.

He wasn't alone. He knew that. He could hear familiar voices around him. They were yelling, calling out to Buck, tossing away debris. Tommy knew they were trying to help, but it wasn't fast enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough!

“Evan!” He screamed over the sounds of the creaking building all around him. His throat felt like it was on fire.

He didn't care.

“Evan! Evan, where are you?! Make a sound!”

What about you? One word to describe Tommy.”

“Hm... I'll go with stoic.”

He could hear a different voice over the radio. The voice of a man he hated.

“118, evacuate immediately! You're disobeying a direct order!”

He was the reason they were having to dig for Evan right now. The building had been evacuated. All personnel had been accounted for. Except Gerrard decided he didn't agree with the head count. He didn't believe that everyone had gotten out. Swore he saw movement inside.

It didn't take much to convince Buck. If he thought someone was still in danger, he was going to go back in and rescue them.

It's what any of them would have done.

But Buck had been Gerrard's target.

There wasn't anyone else in the building. A part of Tommy wondered if Gerrard had actually seen anything at all.

No one else knew that Buck had gone back in at the time. They were all busy tending to the wounded or working on stabilizing the fire. It wasn't until his voice came over the radio that they learned he was inside. And then the roof came crashing down.

“I repeat, get your asses out now! We'll begin a recovery mission when the fire is completely out.”

Recovery... not rescue.

Tommy ripped the radio off of him and slung it across the room. It didn't matter that the others still had their radios on. That Gerrard's voice was still echoing through the smoke-filled space. It wasn't right in his ear anymore, so he could concentrate on what mattered.

He continued digging so vigorously that he was gasping and panting for breath. He could hear the wheezing escaping him. His muscles ached and sweat dripped into his eyes.

He kept going anyway. Nothing would stop him.

“Your turn.”

“These games are hard.”

“They're not games, they're personality tests. I wanna see how right we are. Now, one word. Tommy. Go.”

“Ugh! Fine. He's adaptable.”

Tommy tossed more and more pieces of rubble away until he hit something that was not part of the roof.

It was a shoe.

Or a boot, to be more accurate.

Evan.

“Evan!” he yelled. “Hey, I- I got something! Over here! Help!” He continued digging to get to Evan as the rest of the 118 came over to help.

“Come on, Evan. Move! We've got you, we've got you.”

Evan didn't move.

He didn't move when they got the last of the debris off of him.

Didn't move when they pulled off his helmet and mask to check for a pulse.

Didn't move when Chimney looked over at Hen and shook his head.

“We've gotta get him out of here!” Chimney yelled. Before they could get into position to lift him together, Tommy was reaching under his knees and arms, hoisting him up and carrying his lifeless body out of the building.

He ran until he made it outside, then carefully laid Evan on the ground and began chest compressions. He wasn't sure how quickly he moved, but it took a few seconds for the group to catch up to him. “Come on, Evan!” Tommy yelled as he counted. “Come on, Baby! Breathe, Evan! Breathe!”

He felt hands on his shoulders, someone- Chimney, he thinks- was telling him to stop. To let them take over.

He kept going.

“Breathe, Baby, just breathe!”

“Now you.”

“I'd say calm under pressure.”

“That is not one word.”

“Okay, so one word for calm under pressure then.”

“Composed?”

“That'll do.”

“You know, calm works too, guys.”

“Please, Evan!”

Suddenly, arms were wrapping around him, pulling him off of Evan before he could try to fight back or protest.

He jerked away from the hold, twisting to see it was Eddie. “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled.

“They've got it, Tommy,” he replied, his own voice shaking with worry. “Let them handle it.”

He turned back around to see Chimney and Hen working on Evan. They had already torn his shirt and had him ready to be shocked.

Tommy moved beside him, kneeled down and got as close as he could without touching him. “Evan, you gotta breathe. Please, just breathe.”

As soon as he was shocked, the monitor came to life. “I got a pulse!” Chimney exclaimed. “Let's get him ready for transport.”

Tommy thought that would be the moment his own breath would come back to him. He thought that's when he'd feel joy and relief.

He didn't.

As they got Evan ready to go to the hospital, Tommy's gaze drifted up.

Right to Gerrard.

He could feel his blood boiling. A rage like he'd never felt before seeping through every pore in his body. He didn't listen as Eddie came up beside him, telling him he needed to go to the hospital and get checked out too.

He breezed right past him. His pace quickened the closer he got to Gerrard. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the man, and his arm was going back, then making direct contact with Gerrard's nose. “You son of a bitch!” Tommy yelled as Gerrard stumbled backwards. He brought both hands to his face, blood seeping out between his fingers.

Tommy didn't care. He took another step and grabbed onto Gerrard's turnouts. “You sent him in to die!” he shouted as he shoved him against a firetruck.

“I'll have your job, Kinard!”

“You won't get the chance.” The words came out in a growl. It wasn't a threat, but a promise. He didn't care what happened to him in that moment, as long as Gerrard could never hurt another person again. His arm went back, but this time he had people grabbing onto him and pushing him away.

“He's not worth it, Man!” Eddie yelled. Holding his arms out between Gerrard and Tommy to keep them apart. “He's not worth it. Go be with Buck.” Eddie pointed back to the ambulance, which was seconds away from leaving for the hospital. “Go!” he demanded.

“If something happens to him,” Tommy warned, staring Gerrard down, “I will kill you.”

“Tommy!” Eddie yelled. “Go!”

With a final glare, Tommy turned, running for the ambulance.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“One word. How would you describe me?”

“One word isn't enough.”

“It's all you've got.”

“Then... Loving. No! Caring. No! Affectionate. Wait-”

“Evan.”

“This is hard!”

“Gotta pick one, Babe.”

“Fine. I think, loyal. Yeah, that's a good one. You're loyal.”

There were two very uneasy days in the hospital before Buck woke up.

Tommy wasn't there when it happened. He'd been at the hospital for forty hours straight when Maddie demanded he go home, shower, and eat something before he came back.

He had just stepped out of the shower when he got a text from Maddie saying he was awake and alert.

He'd never gotten dressed so fast in his life.

His hair was still a mess of wet curls when he raced back into the hospital. It wasn't until he walked into the room and saw that Evan was sitting up with a pudding cup in hand that he finally felt okay again.

“Hi,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing.

Evan smiled at him, setting the pudding cup on the tray table. “Hi yourself.”

Tommy didn't notice Maddie in the room. Didn't realize Eddie was there either. He simply walked over to Evan and sat beside him on the bed, cupping his face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate pudding.

It was wonderful.

“We're, uh, we're gonna give you two a minute,” Maddie said, getting up from her chair. She and Eddie snuck out before Tommy pulled back from the kiss.

“I was so worried about you.” Tommy's eyes wandered over Evan's body. A fear that something else might be wrong. Something the doctors didn't notice while Evan was unconscious. “How are you feeling? I wanted to be here when you woke up but your sister made me leave.”

Evan took Tommy's hand in his, holding on tight. “I'm okay, Tommy. I promise. Maddie, um, she told me she had to basically force you out of here.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “She threatened to have me committed if I didn't go home.”

Evan lifted his free hand and ran it through Tommy's hair. “I've never seen you leave the house with your curls before.”

Tommy shrugged. “You're more important.”

Buck couldn't help the blush that rose on his cheeks. “I- I heard, um, from Eddie that you... you defended my honor at the scene.”

Tommy shook his head. “You don't need anyone to defend your honor, Evan. I did go a little crazy though.”

“But you won't lose your job, right?”

“Got two week's paid suspension, and I have to go to anger management, but I think Gerrard is the one at risk of losing it all. Apparently I had a lot of people backing me up. Him, not so much.”

Evan nodded. “Good. Now kiss me again.”

Tommy smiled, his face scrunching up tight as he leaned in for another kiss. It was more chaste than the last, but filled with just as much love.

“Can I tell you something?” Buck asked in a near whisper once they had parted.

“Of course.”

“When Eddie was telling me what you did, I- I...” He broke eye contact, pursing his lips as he fiddled with the sheet draped over his waist. “I thought it was really hot.”

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy placed his fingers under Evan's chin, lifting his head until their eyes met. “I'm sure someone got it on video,” he said, eyes going dark. “Could probably get you a copy.”

Evan took a deep breath. He knew his heart rate monitor had to be going crazy right now. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, grabbing onto Tommy's shirt and dragging him in for another kiss.

Tommy stopped as his lips ghosted over Evan's. “I love you more.”

“You've gotta pick one for yourself now.”

“Oh God. Sarcastic.”

“Uh-uh. Won't accept it.”

“What?! You can't deny my word for me!”

“I can and I will. Say something positive.”

“Sarcastic can be positive. It won you over.”

“Tommy.”

They were quite for a moment, then Evan glanced up from his paper to see Tommy watching him closely.

“Why are you staring like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're in love with me.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Ugh! Tommy, pick a word.”

“Okay, fine. Um, Protective. I'm very protective.”

[uglypastels]

omg what about Logan being like the softest with a sensitive/shy reader. Idk in what context like maybe she’s just overwhelmed with life and kinda closed off in terms of voicing what’s wrong and you know he’s usually very stoic but he’s the BIGGEST softy. Totally not projecting btw.

YEsss Logan is such a fucking softie, no matter how hard he'd want to try and hide it. thank you for being my first request for this fandom i hope i can do it some justice 🫶 and pleeease, we love to project here so please, go right ahead.

warnings: darkness. anxiety. loneliness. alcohol. fem!reader. reader's mutation specified. mentions of past [implied toxic] relationship. so some angst but also bunch of fluff at the end. also please don't come for me if he's a bit out of character. this is my first time writing Logan so it will be trial and error.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

It was the dead of the night. Quite literally. All around you was so quiet and dark that the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. All you heard was the floorboards creaking under your footsteps as slivers of moonlight illuminated your path through the corridors of the mansion. It was the rare instance that you felt at peace. 

Yes, you knew almost as soon as you stepped inside the large building and saw all these mutants walking around happily and carelessly that you had found a true safe haven, and yet, months later, you still had not found your bearings. It did not help that you were not exactly in the age bracket of most of the residents here. Having the mansion double as a school meant most of the mutants were in that school-going age range, and while they were lovely (for the most part), you had no desire to befriend children. Then, those who you felt more drawn to socially, like Storm or Jean, were all apart of that special ops team, which always left them busy, if not completely absent, while away on missions. 

Thus, most of your days went by in solitude. Something you had gotten used to throughout your life. Over the years it had become natural for you to simply disappear into your surroundings. Wether you wanted to or not, people simply overlooked you. In hindsight, it explained your mutation perfectly… or was that just an aftereffect of it? You had always wondered if it was one’s personality that influenced the mutation or the other way around.

Either way, for you, it all merged into one dark abyss. 

By now, you had gotten a hang of all the floor plans of the giant building, especially the route between your room and the kitchens. 

You hadn’t checked the clock when you got out of bed, but it must have been around 2 am, if not later. You didn’t expect anyone to be up at this ungodly hour. Especially not walking out of the dark kitchen exactly as you were coming through the threshold. The two of you bump, chest to chest, and the contact immediately made you burst out in a high-pitched scream. From the other side of the impact, you heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a blade being pulled. That was enough for your flight or fight mode to activate. You almost choked on the deep breath you took. The blade swung in your direction, but it only slashed the air where you once stood. 

‘Who’s there?’ it was a male voice. Hard and deep, almost wild. In your other form, your eyes adapted much better to the dark, and so you could see him looking around himself wildly. You counted the sharp appendages in his hands— no, they were coming out of his arms— six long claw-like blades ready to impale the very first thing that’d move. 

There was no doubt about it that this must have been the infamous Logan everyone around the mansion talked about. From what you had heard, he had been away for almost a year on some top-secret assignment for the Professor, but now he had apparently returned.

And what a comeback he has made, nearly stabbing you in the hallway.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated his question louder, still looking around.

‘Just me.’ Your voice came out as the exact opposite of his, soft and weak, and you immediately regretted your words. Just me, as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

But it must have done the trick, as Logan retracted his claws. His shoulders visibly slacked at the lack of imminent danger.

‘Well, Me, you can come out of hiding. I’m not gonna hurt ya,’ he grumbled, ‘let me just turn the light on–’ 

‘Wait!’ You squeezed your eyes shut and let the cool air of the night brush over your bare arms. When you opened them again, all you could see was Logan’s large frame standing inside the kitchen, most likely hovering over the light switch, surprised at your sudden call.

‘Sorry, you can uhm– turn the lights on now.’ And like that, with a quiet flick, the kitchen illuminated with a soft orange glow. 

Logan’s eyes were immediately on you, scanning you up and down for any sign of recognition, but you already knew there would be none. Even if he had ever seen you before, there never was.

‘Do I know you?’ he cocked his head with the question, and all you could do was shake your head. 

‘I doubt it.’ No one knew you, but that didn’t feel like a smart response.

‘Care to introduce yourself, Bub?’ He leaned against the wall with the light switch, and maybe it was his overall greatness as he practically towered over you, but you felt a rush of heat fall over your face as he looked down at you in expectance. Awkwardly, you pushed out the sounds that formed your name, with a bonus of an extended hand for him to shake. 

‘And you must be Logan, right?’

He confirmed your suspicion with a grunt as he took your hand, squeezed firmly, but not painfully, and shook it once. Then, silence fell between you. 

Two strangers who met in a complete, nearly fatal accident. It was only to be expected you would have nothing to say to one another. But you were, after all both awake this late in the night, and that was enough to compel you to talk. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Just got back, actually.’ His eyes glanced to your side and that is when you noticed the duffel bag that lay in the corridor. Then, only when you looked back at him did you take in what he was wearing. Not the expected gym shorts or sweatpants with an old shirt. Instead, Logan was dressed in a black button-up under a dark motorcycle jacket. With that, he had a boot cut-jeans and the boots to match. From the tiny dark dotted pattern on his shoulders and the light pitter-pattering that was occurring outside, it was visible he had just come from out of the rain. 

Immediately, a parade of questions entered your mind. Where had he been? Why did he come back so late? What was he doing in the kitchen? And so much more, though none of it would leave your mouth as you doubted he would talk to you about his secret mission. 

‘You alright?’ His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and you realised how you must have looked. Staring up at him with wide eyes, not saying a single thing. Another heat flare hit your cheeks.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

He cocked his head in an examinatory fashion. The disbelief evident in his eyes. 

‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

‘Relatively,’ you shrugged. ‘Got here a few months ago.’

‘Parents kicked you out?’ He assumed the most common backstory that comes with the residents of the mansion.

‘Not exactly,’ you kept your response short. After all, you could hardly tell a stranger you just met that your boyfriend had kicked you out of your shared apartment when he found out about your genetic abnormality. You had never been sure how he would have reacted, but the events that unfolded were even beyond your imagination. But the past was the past, and you didn’t want to dwell on it. The important part was that not a day after this conversation, you were crying in your car with nowhere to go. It was by chance that weeks after your break-up/eviction, you stumbled into some other mutants who told you about the Professor. You weren’t too sure about going to seek shelter at a school of all places, but in reality, the Academy was much more than that. Though it did give you the perfect opportunity to safely train your abilities.

That and so much more was what went through your head, but you didn’t say any of that to Logan. Why would you? He didn’t know you. He didn’t care about your problems, and you didn’t blame him for it. 

On the contrary, you appreciated that he didn’t press you for more details. When you answered the way you did, he simply nodded in understanding and made his way over to the fridge. The blue glow illuminated his tense features. Strange, for a man who had been a year on the go on some secret spy adventure, you would have expected him to return at least a bit beaten up. But besides maybe some signs of a bad sleep schedule, no form of strain was visible on his face.

‘You want something?’ he looked over at you, making you realise you had been, in fact, staring and not very subtly either. 

‘I’m good, thanks.’ 

‘Suit yourself,’ he went back to inspecting the contents of the fridge before sighing with disappointment. ‘They still don’t have anything stronger around here?’

‘Oh, if you’re looking for beer–’ you walked over to a cabinet at the other end of the kitchen. You tapped a corner, and a small code pad appeared. You tapped in the code, and the cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked mini-bar. ‘Scott had it installed over the summer,’ you explained when you saw Logan’s confused expression.

‘Explains the babyproofing.’ He walked over, and you handed him a cool bottle of beer.

‘Well, it is a school after all.’ You held in a smile as the thought occurred to you that the kids might not have been the only ones who weren’t supposed to know about the secret compartment. The rivalry between Cyclops and the Wolverine was known all too well around the whole campus, even for newcomers such as yourself.

Logan smirked, taking his beer. You were about to offer a bottle opener, but he hit the neck of the bottle against the edge of the table and with a pop and a clink, the cap came right off. 

‘Here,’ he exchanged your bottles, giving you the open one. You watched him repeat his actions with the second drink. Your eyes were still on him as he chugged down half of the beer in one go. He probably could have downed the whole thing if it wasn’t for his look down at you, most likely noticing your entranced look.

‘That staring a part of your powers, too, then?’ he commented, and the acknowledgement immediately made you turn your head in the direction of the window.

‘Sorry. I just— I tend to do that, I guess.’ You wrinkled your nose. Being on your own around so many people, you had gotten used to people watching, observing them from a distance like a show on TV that you kept on for the background noise.

‘What do you do, anyway?’ He asked bluntly, ‘I thought I had done you in good back there.’

‘You would have,’ you chuckled, remembering just how close his claws had come into contact with you. ‘It’s hard to explain. I just kind of—’ You noticed the shadow that fell over the floor from the table and lightly grazed it with the tip of your toe. With a deep breath, the world in front of you changed. Except the exact opposite was the truth. ‘Disappear.’ You finished the sentence, punctuated by your new state.

Logan’s eyes widened as you disappeared in front of his eyes. Where the shock came from, he couldn’t explain. He had encountered these sorts of mutants before. But this felt different than regular invisibility or teleportation. With his heightened senses, he could always detect those sorts of hijinks. No one ever disappeared to him. But you— as soon as you had faded away, it was as if you had completely fallen off the face of the earth. Not a single trace of you lingered behind. When you spoke, just as you had in the hallway, your voice didn’t seem to be coming from one place. It was all around him, almost like a whisper, a voice inside his own head.

With a blink of an eye, you reappeared before him. Just as you had stood there moments before.

‘There’s not really a name for this, I think; at least no one around here could come up with anything that made sense.’ Not that you had any conversations that made people interested enough to do the research. ‘But from my own understanding, I kind of become one with the shadows.’

‘And what about the light?’ he recalled your yelp when he had tried to turn on the light.

‘I merge with the dark, and so when new light sources interfere… it’s not pretty.’

Logan simply nodded as he took the last swig of his beer.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, you leaning against the counter and he against the large table. 

‘You’re doing it again, Bub.’ He smirked, calling out your lost stare. 

‘Sorry,’ you hadn’t even realised you were doing it. You had just been looking around the room and may have, perhaps, accidentally lingered a look at his frame for a few seconds. And then you caught sight of his hands. More specifically, his knuckles. There was a faint pink glow on the skin, but besides that, you would never be able to tell that deadly claws could grow out from there. You blinked. ‘Sorry.’ You were doing it again. Quickly, you drank the rest of your beer. The bitter taste lingered in your throat, suffocating the burning questions that you wanted to ask.

‘Spill it out.’ He hit you by surprise with the command.

‘Uh–what?’

You knew there were plenty of mindreaders around, but you had not thought it was one of Logan’s abilities. ‘How did you–’

‘It’s all in your face, sweetheart. You think just ‘cause you’re quiet, you’re hard to read, don’t you.’ His assumption left you a bit stunned. It wasn’t that you had thought exactly that, but more so that you never considered that you were making any expressions that were that easy to interpret, as you never really had anyone pay that much attention to you to point it out.

 ‘If you want to say something, just say it.’ Logan said the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. ‘If you’re wondering if it hurts,’ he looked down at his knuckles, ‘it hurts just as any other one-foot-long knife cutting through skin.’

‘That’s awful.’ You gasped, considering what it must be like to have such a mutation that inadvertently harmed you any time you used it.

‘You get used to it after a while.’ 

Another round of silence. This time, the longer it went on, the more you started thinking how you must be inconveniencing him. With the beers drank, there was little for you both to still be doing here, but also didn’t want to be rude by just up and leaving. After all, you didn’t know Logan very well. 

‘You sure you’re alright?’ He asked, coming out from behind the table.

‘Yeah.’ You tried to smile but could tell it probably did not reach your eyes. Logan moved with a sense of apprehension, unsure of how to approach you. Being a year on the road, not to mention the years of solitude before he had joined the Professor’s team, had not exactly prepared him for these kinds of situations. He didn’t know the right things to do or to say. But to you, just his presence was enough. Just him being there, talking, or in this case, just seeing you, was more than you could have asked for. ‘I’m good.’ 

And yet, ironically, though you had actually meant it for once, you really did feel alright, but something about the situation caused tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that made you overly sensitive. Or the alcohol. 

You blinked the tears away and smiled awkwardly. ‘It’s just been a long day.’ or week. Month. Year. How about your entire life?

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ There was that quirk in his lip again, that ghost of a smile. And you couldn’t figure out if his response was just a sarcastic quip, understandably referring to his past days, which you were sure did not consist of a walk in the park. Or did he actually mean it, and he did want you to tell him more? Well, your moment of contemplation brought on another wave of silence, and the heavier it fell, the worse you felt to go back to your problems.

The sudden sound of footsteps pulled you back into your world. People must be slowly waking up; meanwhile, you hadn’t had an hour of sleep yet, and the effect of that started to hit.

‘I should— should probably go.’ You muttered, taking small steps in the direction of the door.

‘Well, the offer always stands.’ Logan followed you with his eyes, turning in his spot as you passed by him. See you around, Nightshade.’

‘What?’ the nickname caught you off-guard, stopping you in your tracks. 

‘Sorry,’ Logan winced, ‘I don’t know—’ that’s what he gets for trying to be cute. 

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it.’ Your smile finally found its full form. A “thank you” almost slipped past it, but you held yourself back. It felt too cheesy to get all sentimental about something as silly as a nickname. Especially since he didn’t know what it meant for you. He didn’t need to know didn’t think you’d ever belong amongst these people enough to get a moniker. 

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all, maybe he had just said it as a mindless comment on your powers. Or maybe not. Maybe he had really tried hard to put that smile on your face. 

You would never know.

Unless you took that one small step. Because, of course, all you had to do was ask, just like he had told you, but maybe another time. For now, you just bid him farewell, hoping for that next opportunity to certainly come sooner than later.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Neighbors 🩵 Lovers

Part Four

Shutting his door, he placed his sturdy back against it. His head collided gently with the surface and he shut his eyes tightly. An even breath escaped his nose and his built chest rose up and down. Diesel’s barking brought his attention down to his pit bull. Erik slid down his door until his bottom touched the floor. Diesel relaxed next to him and Erik rubbed his back. His obsidian eyes stared off into space, but his mind replayed scenes from the night’s festivities over and over.

He dragged his other hand down his face.

Faedra McAdams almost made him say those three words.

Erik brought his left knee up and rested his elbow there while stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. He couldn’t believe it. From the outside looking in, you’d think he’d only known her for several weeks. Truth is, he’d known her for months. Five long months. From a distance. Through his telephoto lens while parked in a car or on a rooftop at night through a 10-power scope.

To understand why, it’s best to know what Erik does for a living more extensively. He is a Mercenary nicknamed Killmonger turned professional Hitman and a top agent for the International Contract Agency. Both Killmonger and his partner, Diana, work together during missions and she controls what jobs he’s hired to take on.

Before the ICA discovered Erik, he was a JSOC Special Ops who was kidnapped and became the product of a HYDRA experiment. The Winter Soldiers were HYDRA's elite group of assassins that were administered with Howard Stark's version of the Super Soldier Serum. Due to the mental side effects caused by Stark's serum, the Winter Soldiers were all kept in cryostasis at the HYDRA Siberian Facility, during which they were killed by Helmut Zemo. All except for Killmonger who escaped.

His genetically-engineered and enhanced body and mind (combined with his extensive knowledge and training) made him become the world's deadliest and most efficient assassin. Killmonger was a relatively emotionless assassin until Fae came into the picture. He couldn’t understand how this woman altered his controlled lifestyle so much. For once, Erik was able to relax and be himself. He was able to have real emotions.

The Ghost Fugitive was his current elusive mission he’d been hired to do months ago but Erik stalled because of Fae. He decided to move into an apartment here to keep an eye on his target. He was told to eliminate everyone involved or suspected to be involved. Instead of getting the job done, he purposefully dragged himself. He knew soon enough, Diana would come along asking questions. And that’s why he’s currently stressing. How was he going to explain this to Diana?

Erik’s phone buzzed and he turned his hip to retrieve it from his back pocket. Looking down at his phone, he paused when he’d seen her name. He hated the way he left her. She’s probably in her apartment right now questioning his change of plans. She’s probably blaming herself. Erik picked himself up from the floor and took off his shoes. He placed his jacket on the couch and took a seat.

Erik’s leg bounced as he tried to figure out what to say. She’s probably overthinking.

It wasn’t okay. He fell for her. He wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

She did have a point. He was supposed to be snugged behind her in her bed—well, that bitch nigga slept there too. He’d much rather she be in his bed right now. Cuddling with Fae beneath his sheets sounded so much better.

Erik stood up from his couch and strolled over to his door. He could see Fae leaving her apartment with Deuce in her pajamas. She knocked on his door and Erik opened it quickly. Fae slipped inside with Deuce in her arms and he shut the door. Fae’s big brown eyes looked up at him and Erik looked down at her beautiful face. Fae had her braids up in a messy bun and the cutest nightgown on. One of those nightgowns you get from Target.

“Hi.” She greeted him with a soft-spoken voice.

“Hi.” Erik replied.

“You wanted to talk?” Fae questioned.

Her eyes followed Diesel as he walked up to her. He sniffed her feet in a pair of Ugg Tasman slippers. She placed Deuce down on the floor and both dogs scurried off.

“Yeah,” Erik reached out for her hand, “Let’s go to my room.”

Fae took his hand and they walked to his room. Once inside, Erik cracked his door. Fae climbed onto his bed and kicked off her slippers. Erik took off his cargo pants and settled next to Fae. She was resting on her side while her head is propped up in her hand.

“…I’m sorry that I stormed off. I just…I was worried about Cordell popping up unexpectedly. I was thinkin’ about how he comes home every night after doing whatever the fuck it is that he’s doing and just…laying next to you after all that like shit is cool is fucked up to me. It’s manipulative. I don’t like it.”

Fae listened intently. Her eyes blinked slowly at Erik.

“…you’re too sweet, too beautiful, too much of a good woman to endure that. I love that you’re cheating back, I love that you let me do you in your apartment. I love it, I just don’t like that he’s still there…with access to you…and for that I’m sorry. It’s not my place to feel that way. You don’t owe me an explanation, ma.”

Erik turned away and stared down at his hands. Fae sat up on her knees and grabbed Erik’s shoulder. He looked up at her through his curled lashes. Fae’s eyes scanned his handsome face before she scooted closer, pressing her soft lips against his. Erik’s brows furrowed and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer. Fae swung a leg over him and plopped down in his lap. They kissed for a while, Erik’s fingertips rubbing up and down the dip in her spine, Fae’s hands tugging on his locs.

Erik broke their kiss and he stared into Fae’s eyes before his gaze dropped down. He couldn’t look at her without those three words echoing in his conscious. Fae kisses along his neck, causing Erik to grunt.

“Faedra,” Erik said with a hushed tone.

“Hm?”

Fae’s face was so close to his that their noses touched.

“You’re asking for it, girl…”

Fae giggled softly, “What if I am?”

Erik’s low eyes stared her down. Fae bites her lip and Erik licked his own. Fae leaned back and grabbed the bottom of her nightgown, lifting it up and over her head in one motion. Erik’s eyes fell to her breasts with stiff, brown nipples. His hands came up to palm them and Fae grabbed his face, pulling him in for another kiss. Erik’s hands roamed all over her body. He couldn’t get over how soft her skin felt.

“Don’t think, just fuck me,” Fae shoved Erik and he fell back against the bed, “Let me ride it.”

She didn’t give Erik any time to pull his briefs down. Fae’s dainty hands tugged with force and his dick bobbed out and stood tall, pointed towards her mouth. Fae slid down his body in a rush and wrapped her plump lips around his tip.

“Fuck, girl,” Erik hissed, “Damn…”

Fae swallowed him and she gagged a little. Erik’s hand curled around the base of her head and he forced his dick deeper. So deep that his balls were almost touching her chin.

Fae drew back and started sucking his length down her throat. Erik’s toes dragged across the carpet of his bedroom floor and his thigh muscles flexed. This is probably the best head he’d had in a long time. She had him shaking.

“Dayum,” Erik formed a crease in his brow and pouted his lip, “You’re such a nasty girl….ughhhhh—”

His orgasm caught him off guard. He fell back against the bed completely and dragged both of his hands down his face in disbelief. Fae’s lips popped off his thick pipe and she licked her lips before climbing up and straddling him. She squatted over him and Erik held her up with his hands beneath her ass.

Fae aimed his fat tip at her wet hole and she circled her hips over his sensitive head before slowly lowering her hips. They both sigh in unison. She placed her hands on his chest, arched her back, folded her feet beneath his strapping thighs, and bounced. Erik’s hands fell to his sides and he stared up at her with his eyes ablaze.

“Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh,” Fae moaned.

“You love this fuckin’ dick…look how you’re taking it,” Erik bites his lip, “Don’t stop.”

Fae forced her eyes shut and focused her attention on giving Erik the best ride he’s ever had. The sound of her wet pussy and skin slapping against his thighs filled the room. Fae’s braids fell from her bun and crowded her face. One of her hands came up to grip Erik by the jaw and her eyes crossed.

“You cumming? That pussy cumming?” Erik questioned with a soft voice.

Fae could only nod her head.

“You’re so fucking sexy—”

“Oh!”

Fae fell and she was pressed against Erik. Erik wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so that she was on her back again. He dragged her towards the edge of the bed and spread her thighs. With her ankles in his hands, Erik stood up and started fucking her. Fae clung to the sheets for dear life. Erik watched the way his fat dick split her pussy open wide. That clit was poking out at him, her labia was spread open and wrapped around his dick like a pair of lips, his dick was glossy from her arousal. It was beautiful.

“Erik!” Fae shouted.

He hunched over her and wrapped his hands around her neck. She looked up at him with surprise and her mouth agape.

“Oh! Uh! Yes! Daddy!”

Her body seized up and her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head.

“I love making you cum, baby…”

He slipped out and Fae gasped. Erik picked her up and placed her on her stomach with her head on a pillow. Fae’s hand slipped beneath his pillow and she could feel weighted steel. She withdrew her hand quickly and Erik noticed. Fae looked back at him over her shoulder and Erik's eyes were steady on hers while his hand slipped beneath the pillow to grip the handle.

“Why do you keep it under your pillow?” Fae asked.

Erik revealed his GLOCK G20 and sat it down carefully on his bedside table with the barrel pointed in the opposite direction.

“Just a habit.” Erik said.

He spread her thighs a little so he could find her entrance. Fae’s eyes shut when his dick pushed inside deep. He propped himself up on his fists behind her and he fucked her in flat doggy-style.

Fae smashed her left cheek against the pillow and both of her hands fisted the sheets. The constant clapping and bouncing of the mattress was enough to prove how deep Erik was dickin’ Fae down.

“You’re mine..your ass is mine,” Erik said with a shaky voice from the way Fae’s pussy clenched around him.

“Yes! Yes!” Fae shouted.

Erik dropped to his knees and grabbed Fae by her braids. One hand came down on her ass with a wide open palm.

“Bring that ass up,” Erik watched with hard eyes as Fae arched her back, “Good girl…”

He went in like he never stopped. Erik used Fae’s hair to turn her head so she could look back at him. Hot tears stained her cheeks. Tears of ecstasy. Erik released her hair and placed one hand around the front of her neck. His hot tongue slipped into her drooling mouth and he licked and sucked all over her lips.

“Mhm…mmmmm,” Fae could only moan.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” Erik spoke against her lips with a smirk.

“Please?!” Fae begged with a whiny voice.

“Ask me better than that, Fae.”

Erik released her and Fae dropped forward, hiding her face when Erik started going faster. In and out his thick pipe thrusted.

“Ask me…,” Erik whacked her across the ass again, “Open your mouth and ask me, Fae.”

“Daddy–Daddy please?—can I cum?” She spoke with a hushed tone.

“You wanna bust on this dick you better fix your arch!!!”

Fae whimpered as she pushed herself up and arched her back. Erik hummed in approval and it sent a shiver up her spine so intense her shoulders buckled. Even the kiss he placed in the center of her spine made her gasp as if she’d been doused in cold water.

“Better?” Fae replied with a trembling voice.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl!!!”

Fae couldn’t believe how fucking wet she was. That dick was sliding in and out her pussy with ease. She felt a heat in the pit of her belly and it caused tears to stream down her cheeks. She almost saw heaven. It was that intense. An out of body experience. Like her soul left its vessel for a brief intermission. She didn’t even have to announce her release, Erik felt it.

“Oh, yeah? Oh fuck yeah,” Erik grunted, “FUCK.”

He slipped out and his hot cum painted her backside. Fae dropped down on the bed like she’d been knocked out. Erik sat back on his haunches and tried to catch his breath. He was sweating so much that it dripped from his nose.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her, “You okay?”

“…mhm.”

Erik’s chest was burning from trying to catch his breath. He carefully climbed off of the bed and walked up to Fae. He smoothed her braids from her face and wasn’t surprised to find her sleeping. He palmed her booty and gave it a light slap. She squirmed and scrunched her face in such a cute way.

“I love you.” Erik said.

“Mhm.” Fae responded.

Erik knew she didn’t really hear him. But damn, he wanted her to. So bad. He grew to love her from a distance before they officially met. It was hard to explain. It hit him so fast. What was supposed to be a mission turned out to be a pleasant distraction. Erik honestly didn’t know if they would ever be together. That stung worse than the blade once wedged in his side.

Erik brought the sheets over Fae’s body and she snuggled against one of his pillows. Erik went to take a piss and when he returned he could hear his work phone vibrating. His chest grew tight with anticipation as he retrieved the phone from his side table drawer. Bringing the screen to his gaze, he shut his eyes briefly.

Diana.

Erik walked out of his room, cracking the door behind him before walking into his office. He cracked the door and answered the call.

“Meet me at Liberty State Park.”

She didn’t even wait for a response from Erik before ending the call abruptly. Erik slowly moved the phone away from his ear. He knew exactly what this was about.

Twinkling night sky, glassy ink-black water, and the reflection of the New York skyline ablaze with many lights was the view that greeted Erik’s eyes. Hands in his all black hoodie pockets, he spotted the statuesque figure of Diana with her back turned towards him. She glanced over her shoulder and her golden eyes met his briefly before she tore them away.

Erik took his place beside her silently, eyes scanning the lively city. His black Doc Martens tapped the concrete impatiently. The forty-five minute drive over felt like a waste. Whatever she has to say she could have said over the phone.

“Killmonger.” Diana greeted him.

“Diana.”

Erik looked at her with a tight jaw.

“The Ghost Fugitive.”

Erik exhaled.

“I’m handling it—”

“Faedra McAdams has been a distraction, Killmonger. Since when do you get distracted?”

Erik remained silent. He had no reason to argue Diana’s point. He had been distracted and thrown off his game.

“Do you know how long it took? Do you understand that if you don’t end this now, it would have been for nothing?” Diana said.

“Listen—”

“I know you don’t care about politics, Killmonger, but we decided to do this together because of the ICA. We can’t allow ourselves to be manipulated. You know all about manipulation, don’t you?”

Diana fully turned to stare at Erik. Her wind blown shoulder-length hair fell into her eyes and she combed her hair away. The chilly air caused her to slightly shiver.

“They’re asking questions. Do you want them to step in?”

“No.” Erik replied begrudgingly.

“Let me give you a brief reminder of how the ICA system works, Killmonger. You get three penalties. Three,” Diana emphasized the number three with her fingers, “which is generous compared to other agencies like HYDRA, but after those three strikes are up, they send a top agent such as yourself, to eliminate the Assassin. You should know about that, you do it all the time.”

Erik closed his eyes and released an even breath.

“I’m aware of the logistics, I know what the fuck I’m up against—”

“Then get it done. You have until the start of the Bankok job. If you have to burn it to dispose of your little distraction, do it. Otherwise…”

Diana retrieved an all black pistol from the back of her tight black pants and Erik’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He knew that Diana would kill Faedra. Without hesitation. In that case, he’d have to kill her. No one was going to lay a finger on Fae.

“…I’ll do it for you.”

Silence stretched on for another five seconds until Erik’s sinister chuckle caused Diana to narrow her eyes.

“…Let me make myself clear, Diana,” Erik rolled his shoulders in a threatening manner and his voice took on a deeper more menacing tone, “I’ll kill you.”

Erik’s face was centimeters away from Diana’s. His eyes didn’t blink and they looked cold and dark.

“…You don’t touch her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t even breathe around her.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed at Erik and that pistol was still in her grasp.

“Partner or not, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, Diana,” Erik looked her up and down, “Do we have an understanding?”

“How dare you—”

“I SAID…do we have an understanding—”

“How long have you known about her? Five months?! What will she think when she finds out who you really are? Then what? You think she’ll love you, Erik? You’re incapable of love. Maybe I should remind you about what you did all those years ago to your ex. You almost killed that woman. If Fae was in her right mind, she would run so far away from you—”

Erik snatched up Diana’s gun and pointed it at her forehead. Diana stared at him wide-eyed and he could see the fear beyond her gaze. He took the safety off of the pistol and Diana stared into the barrel.

“You don’t talk about my past, Diana. You don’t get to stand there and fucking judge me. You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through!”

Diana stared at Erik with a stony expression.

“Get that gun out my face, Erik.” Diana commands with a low, threatening tone.

Erik didn’t do it right away. After another minute he slowly lowered the gun and placed it behind him in the waistband of his pants. Dianna scuffed and shook her head before creating space between them.

“Doesn’t matter. If I don’t kill her, they will.” Diana said matter-of-factually.

“I’ll get it done. Get off my ass about it.” Erik replied.

Diana looked at Erik with disappointment. He could feel her judgment through her hard gaze.

“Have you been training for the Bangkok job?”

Club 27 is Killmonger’s current high-profile mission. He’s tasked to kill Jordan Cross and Ken Morgan. One year ago, promising young actress, Hannah Highmoore, fell to her death from Cross' penthouse loft in Dumbo, New York. According to the police, Ms. Highmoore's death was a tragic accident but her parents remain unconvinced. They firmly believe that Cross murdered Hannah and only escaped justice due to the power and influence of his father: billionaire media mogul Thomas Cross.

A secondary target, Ken Morgan, corporate fixer and attorney to the Cross family, is also staying at the hotel. Cunning and unscrupulous, Morgan was a key agent in the cover-up of Hannah Highmoore's murder and Jordan Cross' subsequent acquittal. The Highmoores understandably want retribution. And while the system may be powerless, Killmonger is anything but.

“There’s a room waiting for me at the Himmapan Hotel as we speak.” Erik replied with a dry tone.

“In that case, we’re done talking.”

Diana turned to leave and Erik caught her by the arm. She didn’t look back at him.

“…I’m really sorry about putting that gun in your face. I don’t take threats lightly.”

“What a way to apologize,” Diana chuckled, “it’s just a phase, right? You fuck her?”

Erik released Diana’s arm and she finally faced him with a sly smirk.

“You did. Oh, Killmonger…”

Erik looked at her with unblinking eyes. Diana held her hand out for her gun and Erik lifted the back of his hoodie up, retrieving the pistol. He placed it in Diana’s hand and she accepted it.

“Expect a debrief in two weeks…”

Diana walked away, leaving Erik alone to his thoughts.

Fae tried to calm him down. Her tears flooded her vision. Cordell stood there with his hands up and a frightened look in his eyes. Erik was in full rage mode. It was understandable, Cordell was really asking for it.

“I’ll kill you for what you did to her!” Erik barked out.

They were standing on the rooftop of the apartment building.

“Erik, listen to me, put the gun down.”

Fae placed one hand on his arm tenderly. Her eyes were pleading with him to put the gun down. He took one look at Fae and then his eyes were back on Cordell molten hot. He lowers his P365 slowly, eyes unblinking.

Thump!

Fae watched with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open in shock.

Erik kicked Cordell off of the rooftop. Erik watched with sinister eyes as his body dropped to his death.

Erik!

He looked back at her with a villainous smile.

Fae opened her eyes and her heartbeat settled to a lower rhythm. Sleeping on Erik’s bed felt like sleeping on a cloud. Fae yawned and her sleepy eyes looked down at Erik’s side of the bed. She had a nightmare about Erik and Cordell fighting over her. It ended with Cordell falling to his demise. Fae sat up fully and climbed out of bed to use the bathroom.

When she returned after freshening up, she stared down at his Glock on the bedside table. Fae reached out and picked up the heavy gun. She turned it every which way, wondering to herself if it was a habit of his because he was a Bodyguard for important people. That would explain why he was always on high alert.

Speaking of Erik, he disappeared again. She went on a search for her phone and found it on his dresser. Fae called Erik and each time she did, it continued to ring and ring. She started to grow worried. It was so early in the morning, why would he leave so suddenly?

She opened his closet and grabbed a random hoodie from a hanger, pulling it over her head. She left his room and walked down the length of the hallway, her eyes searching from room to room. Fae sat on the sofa while Diesel and Deuce were stretched out on the floor. All of them were waiting for Erik’s return.

She reached for his remote and powered on the TV. As she flipped through random channels, an episode of House Hunters caught her attention. Time stretched on until It was six o’clock in the morning. Fae had tried his phone multiple times again and that’s when she started thinking the worst. She figured she could feed the boys so she gave them both a quick meal. She knew that they needed to go for a walk and relieve themselves.

After another hour, the door knob jiggled and Fae shot up from the couch, almost hitting her knee against the coffee table. Both Diesel and Deuce were on their feet, tails wagging expectantly. Fae watched as Erik opened the door and he looked at her then down at the dogs. He secured the door and pushed his hood off before approaching Fae.

“Erik? I tried calling you.”

He stared at her for a second and then his eyes scanned the room. What she didn’t know, was that he’d left last night in such a hurry, he forgot his personal cell phone.

“I had to step out to prepare for that job. I’ve been caught up lately and I needed some time to get it done. I gotta leave in a matter of days…I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”

Fae’s expression softened and she tried to hide her annoyance with a smirk and a dry chuckle.

“I was—I was just worried—how did training go?”

“Good. I feel better about the job now.” Erik replied.

“Great,” Fae rocked back and forth on her heels, “I was thinking we could walk the boys? I know they need to go to the bathroom…”

“Yeah…yeah. Go throw on a pair of my sweats and meet me out here.”

Fae disappeared down the hall and Erik exhaled. She took two minutes and she was back out and ready to go.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

“Yep.” Fae replied with a blush.

They left the apartment together and Fae walked ahead of Erik to catch the elevator. Erik caught up with her and grabbed her hand. Fae looked from their intertwined fingers and up to his face. Erik smirked at her and she returned the smile.

“I had an idea. I don’t know if you’d be down for it or not…”

The elevator doors opened and they walked inside.

“What’s that?” Fae responded with curiosity.

She leaned against the wall of the elevator and stared up at Erik with attentive eyes.

“Since this is going to be my last few days with you before I leave for Bangkok, I was wondering if you’d be okay if I took you to work in the mornings? I could even pick you up…”

Fae’s brown eyes widened and Erik chuckled.

“Uhm…yeah, I would like that. Cordell usually works late and he doesn’t come home until an hour or so after me. You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Fae wagged her arched brows playfully.

“Nahhhh,” Erik smiled, “You got me in a trance.”

Fae giggles. The elevator doors opened and Erik gave her two quick pecks to her soft lips. They quickly left the elevator and strolled out of the apartment building and onto the busy sidewalk. They made their way to the dog park hand-in-hand.

“We could have a quickie before you clock in. A quickie before I drop you off…”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip. Erik’s eyes scanned her body. Deuce and Diesel both sped up at the same time, pulling Fae and Erik along.

“Looks like we’re moving too slow for them!”

“Guess so—AYE!”

Erik almost stumbled over the pavement from Diesel taking off running when the dog park came into view. Fae laughed boisterously at Erik trying to gain control of the leash.

“You should have seen your face! Priceless,” Fae was bent over laughing, “Looked like your life flashed before your eyes!”

Erik shook his head before crouching down to let Diesel free, “Aight, Fae, wasn’t that funny.”

“If it was me, you would be laughing, shut up!” Fae teased.

“You shut up, midget,” Erik fired back.

Fae shoves Erik and he fell back on his hands. He looked up at her with a glare and he shot up to his feet, wrapping his arms around her trim waist and lifting her from the ground. Fae writhed in his grasp and Deuce circled Erik’s body, barking at him.

“Momma’s good, Deuce!” Erik shouted.

“Put me down, Erik!” Fae yelled.

They were causing a scene. Others that occupied the dog park were looking their way.

“Manners.” Erik said.

“Please?!”

Erik placed Fae onto her feet and she gave him a death glare.

“Aww, you’re so adorable,” Erik teased before reaching out to pinch her cheek.

“You better had let me down or Deuce was gonna bite that ass!” Fae argues.

“Deuce is my friend,” Erik placed a hand against his chest, “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

After Diesel and Duece went to the bathroom, Fae and Erik let them both run around for a bit. Fae sat on Erik’s lap and they both watched their dogs sprint around. Fae looked down at Erik and she reached up to play in his hair.

“Hmm,” Erik gave her a tired look, “That feels good.”

“You haven’t slept. You know that?” Fae said.

“I know, mamas. I’m gonna take a long nap when we get back.” Erik reassured her.

“I don’t wanna go back to my place…”

Erik’s exhausted gaze stared up at Fae.

“Then don’t. Stay with me.”

“…you know I can’t.” Fae replied.

A silence filled the space between them. Erik scratched the side of his nose and looked down at his feet.

“Why can’t you?” He questioned.

Fae sat quietly for a few seconds. Erik knew she was trying to figure out what to say. But what was there to say? He cheated on her multiple times. He’s no good for her.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her.

“Huh?” She replied with a small voice.

“What’s up?” Erik peeked up at her.

“Nothing…I don’t know why…”

Erik felt his chest tighten with anxiousness.

“Hm, okay.”

Fae was struggling to look at him. She turned her head towards the front. Erik exhales.

“Fae…what’s it gonna take for you to leave this nigga?”

“I am gonna leave him—”

“When?” Erik cut her off.

“Soon—”

“Soon as in when that nigga get home or…?”

“Erik…”

Fae climbed down from his lap.

“I just don’t understand what the hold up is.”

Fae rolled her eyes.

“You still love him?”

She looked at Erik and opened her mouth to speak but Erik could tell.

“You do, don’t you?”

“That’s hard to just say—to stop—I don’t want to—he’s been there for me through a lot—I’m gonna leave him it’s just hard. I’m gonna be on my own. The apartment is expensive—”

“You don’t need him. Trust me, you don’t.”

Fae’s sad eyes made Erik feel guilty.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I keep overstepping. I just…I don’t understand why you just don’t leave.”

“…You’re right.”

Fae exhaled a shaky breath.

“You know, I’ve always been so dependent on a man. Even now with everything, I feel like I’m lost, you know? And it sucks. It hurts.”

Erik’s eyes softened as he stared at her.

“You don’t need to feel that way. Fae…listen, look at me, you’re such an amazing woman. You deserve so much better. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle. So what if he lives there? The more you allow him to stick around, the more in control he is. He’s been in control long enough.”

Erik’s jaw clenched and his eyes were ablaze. Fae’s big brown eyes became watery and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Erik thumbed her tear away and Fae released an uneven sigh.

“I’m gonna leave him today.”

Erik nodded his head and he couldn’t hold back his smile.

“This is gonna be tough…”

“I’ll be right there if you need me, Fae.” Erik said.

Crazy enough, two days had gone by with no trace of Cordell. No text, no call, nothing. Fae was more than prepared to confront him about his cheating and end things for good. She contacted his mother and even she hadn’t heard from him. She was very very worried. It wasn’t like Cordell to disappear without letting her know. Even if it was a lie, he wouldn’t have gone this long without checking in. Fae couldn’t sleep, work, or think without wondering where he was.

She checked the news and even a murder page on Instagram for any updates but wouldn’t his family know? Wouldn’t the police have shown up to her door by now? Erik had been busy himself. He would call Fae whenever he had time to check in to see how she was doing and if there were any updates, but it was getting closer and closer for his departure. She had to reschedule brunch with her friends because she was distracted mentally. Plus, she knew they would start asking questions and Fae wasn’t prepared to tell them.

Fae got herself dressed for work on a chilly Wednesday morning and Erik knocked on her door. Fae grabbed her work bag and made sure everything was good before leaving. She opened the door and Erik greeted her dressed in lounge wear like he just rolled out of bed. His head was covered in a black beanie. Fae accepted a kiss from him but she wasn’t really in the mood to kiss. Cordell was missing and she didn’t have any answers. Erik however didn’t seem fazed at all. Not that she was expecting him to.

“How are you?” Erik finally questioned when they were both in his car.

Fae adjusted her black spectacles and exhaled, “I’m worried. I don’t know where he could be or what he’s doing.”

Erik pulled out of the garage. He one-hand whipped his car.

“Do you think he might be with that woman?”

Fae shut her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t even want to think about that. I’d probably kill him when I see him.” She said.

Erik glanced over at her.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on the news myself. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unless…he was abducted—”

“Who would want to kidnap Cordell?” Fae laughed, “He’s just a teacher from NY who can’t keep his dick to himself.”

Erik bit his tongue. He had a lot to say but he remained silent. It was best for him to remain silent.

“I don’t know. I’m just worried. I have this nervous feeling in my gut. I just…I don’t understand why he hasn’t reached out. I know he isn’t shit, but this isn’t like him at all.”

Fae rubbed her temples. Erik caressed her thigh.

“Relax, Fae. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t keep stressing out over it. You’ve been in contact with his family. I’m sure they’re looking into it.”

“I hope so,” Fae sighs, “I even tried his job and they acted like I was crazy.”

Erik formed a crease in his brow, “Whatchu mean?”

Fae exhaled, “Apparently they don’t know a Cordell. Which makes absolutely no sense. He’s a teacher there and a coach. How the fuck wouldn’t you know?”

Erik cocked his head to the side.

“Maybe you spoke to someone who’s a new hire?”

“Maybe. I need to speak to Miss whatever her name is. The girl he’s been sleeping with.”

After another twenty minutes, Erik pulled up at Fae’s job and he reached behind him to the back seat. He got out of the car and jogged around to open her door. Fae slipped out and Erik handed over her work bag. He kissed her cheek and rubbed her arms.

“Have a good day at work. Call me when you get a break. I’ll see you at five.”

“Thanks, E.” Fae gave him a small smile.

“No problem.”

He got back in the car and watched Fae enter the MET. When the coast was clear, Erik drove off.

Fae greeted her coworkers as she made her way to her desk. After taking her seat, she checked her work phone voice messages and none were from Cordell. She booted her laptop and tried his phone again. A hand to her shoulder startled her and Fae jumped.

“Faedra! So sorry.”

It was her supervisor, Linda. Linda was a tall, lanky Caucasian woman with salt and pepper hair that she wore in a neat bun. Her oblong face with alabaster skin came into view. Fae stared into her concrete gray eyes with a startled look.

“I came to say goodmorning and to remind you about the field trip this morning? From the middle school? Manhattan Middle?”

Fae completely forgot about that.

“Oh! Yes, yes I remember. When will they be here?”

“In about twenty minutes or so. The teachers name is Miss. Rio.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She didn’t know if this was the universe giving her a sign, but Miss. Rio being here at her job had to mean something. She was with Cordell this past weekend. He could be at her home right now. Fae was going to ask questions.”

“Great. I’ll go greet them.”

“Excellent,” Linda smiled before sauntering away.

After twenty minutes, a small history class of students in a single-filed line with their name badges and wandering eyes headed towards her. Fae could make out Miss. Rio and it took a lot of strength to be professional and smile. Miss. Rio looked at her and for a second, Fae knew that she’d recognized her.

“Hello! My name is Fae! Welcome Manhattan Middle! I’m so excited to be your tour guide for the day. We have a lot of ground to cover. Please, stay together and pay attention. We’re going to start in the African Origin of Civilization exhibition first.”

Miss. Rio was dressed in a dark purple, form-fitting pencil skirt with a black blouse and black flats. She walked to the front of the line while a substitute teacher remained in the back as an extra eye on the children. Miss. Rio gave Fae a nervous smile and Fae returned the smile.

They started making their way into the exhibit and while Fae did her thing, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Miss. Rio.

“Scholars today recognize Africa as the source of our common ancestry. But in 1974, Senegalese scholar and humanist Cheikh Anta Diop shocked and challenged historians by asserting the influence of ancient African civilizations in his groundbreaking book The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality…”

Fae continued, “This exhibition pays homage to Diop by presenting masterpieces from the Museum’s collections from west and central Africa alongside art from ancient Egypt for the first time in The Met’s history.”

Fae spent time on each exhibit and answered any questions the students had before they went to the next exhibition. Three exhibits in, the children took a lunch break before finishing up. Miss. Rio excused herself to the restroom and Fae took that opportunity to corner her. The substitute teacher had an eye on the children. Fae stepped to the side to allow a mother and her two daughters to walk out before she entered. Ironically, Miss. Rio was the only one remaining in the bathroom.

Fae only waited two minutes and the bathroom stall door opened. Miss. Rio walked out and her eyes landed on Fae’s. She shut the door behind her and walks over towards the sink. Fae locked eyes with her through the mirror and after Miss. Rio dried her hands off, she turned around to face Fae.

“What do you want to know?” She said.

Fae chuckled. Miss. Rio crossed her arms and shifted her weight on one hip.

“That’s what you have to say? After sleeping with my man? Coming to my apartment and fucking him in my bed? Are you serious?” Fae fired back.

“I didn’t know he was with anyone at first—”

“So, you just went to my apartment and not once noticed anything that made you think, oh! He’s in a relationship?!” Fae whisper-yelled.

“Listen, what do you want me to say?! An apology wouldn’t be enough, right?” Miss. Rio fired back.

“Wow…You’re a joke. Anyway, that’s not why I’m confronting you, you can have him. My beef is with him. I just want to know was he with you this weekend and is he still there? He hasn’t been home in two days.”

Miss. Rio hesitated.

“Well?” Fae pressed impatiently.

“Yes. Yes he was there this weekend. He left this morning.”

Fae turned away from Miss. Rio and shut her eyes. This motherfucker has been staying with that hoe for two days and didn’t even bother to say anything.

“I have to get back to my class.”

Fae didn’t have anything further to say. She didn’t like the woman, but what good will it do to whip her ass? She’d lose her job. Miss. Rio left Fae standing in that public bathroom with tears in her eyes. She felt like a fucking bozo. Fae grabbed a few tissues and blotched her cheeks before exiting the bathroom. The students, Miss. Rio, and the substitute waited for her.

“Okay! Who wants to see the European Paintings?”

Erik was seated in Grand Central Station. He could make out an old friend of his that worked with the ICA. His name is Ethan and he’s Asian. Ethan sat behind Erik, dressed in business attire to not draw attention. Erik turned his head slightly to his right to speak.

“Sean Thomas is missing. Anything you can tell me that I need to know?” Erik spoke with a hushed voice.

Ethan took out his phone and slipped it behind him so Erik could grab a hold of it through the opening in the bench. He retrieved the phone and his eyes dropped down to look at the screen. What he could make out was that the ICA attempted to exterminate him two days ago and Sean got away. This was bad news for Erik. He’s most likely lying low until things died down. A hoard of people made their way towards them. Ethan started speaking in mandarin.

“Tòuguò zhècì xíngdòng, tāmen zhèngzài shīqù duì nǐ de xìnrèn, kè'ěr máng gē.”

Erik nodded his head and cocked it to the side. Losing their trust in him meant penalty number one.

“Wǒ gāi xiāngxìn dài ānnà ma? Wǒ gǎnjué tā duì ICA gànrǎo wǒ de rènwù fù yǒu zérèn…”

Ethan pondered before he spoke, “Dài ānnà zhàozhāng bànshì. Guòqù yīgè yuè tā yīzhí zài niǔyuē. Wǒ bù huì xiāngxìn tā.”

So, Erik shouldn’t trust Diana. His guess was correct. She’s discussing things with the ICA behind Erik’s back. He needed to call her after this and schedule another meet up. He was going to cut ties with Diana and work alone. A lot of Hitmen work alone. It’s just a heavier workload and room for more mistakes.

They waited until the coast was clear. When the last person walked past, Erik cleared his throat.

“Have they been keeping an eye on her?” Erik asked.

“They plan to do whatever it takes to find him, Killmonger. If that means taking the girl, they’ll do it.” Ethan whispered.

“How long before they strike again?”

“Twenty-four hours.” Ethan said.

Silence stretched on. The background chatter and rushed footsteps of people surrounded them. Ethan stood up and adjusted his suit jacket before retrieving his work satchel and the phone from Erik’s hand between the seat.

“Rúguǒ nín xūyào wǒ de bāngzhù, nín zhīdào rúhé liánxì wǒ.”

Ethan pat Erik on the shoulder before walking away. Erik leans forward and props his elbows up on his thighs. This was his fault. If he didn’t get caught up with Fae and tapped into his cold, blood thirsty nature, Sean Thomas would already be dead.

He had to remain ahead of the ICA.

On his way out of Grand Central Station, Erik walked up to his car and hopped in. He dialed Diana’s number and after four rings, it went to voicemail. Erik checked the time and Fae would be off within the next hour. He made his way to her job to wait for her since he was on the other side of town. He knew that he had to be honest with Fae now. It wasn’t fair for him to keep his life a secret knowing that she had a target on her back. Even if the truth would push her away, protecting her was his number one priority.

Sean Thomas is a murderer, and a Con Artist. He’s good at stealing identities and disappearing under a new alias. He’s responsible for murdering four women across the U.S from Detroit, to Chicago, to Georgia, and now New York. He got landed in prison for a robbery charge that led him to a man named Cordell. Cordell has a history of drug-related crimes and he’s from New York. While locked up with Cordell for three years, he learned everything about his cell mate.

His family, his dream job, where he grew up. Sean planned on stealing his identity and creating a new life for himself. He got out of prison and hooked up with an old partner of his to help him with his new life. He settled in N.Y.C and reunited with his “family” who hadn’t seen him in years since he was adopted at the age of three. They welcomed him in like he never left.

What he didn’t know was that he’d been tracked down by Erik. Erik was hired to find out everything he needed to know about Sean and kill him. He’d burned too many bridges and stole from too many people. While Erik finally secured his target, he was also informed to kill anyone else who may get in the way, and that included a significant other.

Fae.

Erik had to keep an eye on Fae as well and the more he watched her, the more he fell for her. He did the one thing he normally wouldn’t do: get close. Now, he’s sleeping with his targets girl friend.

Erik’s car came to a slow stop outside of Fae’s job and he called her to see if she was finished for the day. Her phone rang and went to voicemail. Panic crept up Erik’s spine the more she wouldn’t answer. He opened his car door with force and stepped out onto the busy street. His eyes searched for anything that would give away someone watching her. From what he could tell, there was no sign of danger below.

His obsidian eyes looked towards the tops of the skyscrapers and buildings. His eyes double-backed to a short building with an open window across from the MET and three spots over. Erik knew that the window hadn’t been opened before. He had a snipers eye as well, so his gut instinct told him that a sniper was camped out in that building, waiting for Fae to arrive.

The best way for Erik to know for sure was to enter that building himself. It was broad daylight and rush hour in one of the busiest cities in the U.S. Erik rushed across the street as fast as he could and took long strides towards the building. He noted an alley and a back entrance to the building. Erik dipped down the alley and ran towards the end until he came across a lengthy fire escape. From what he remembers, the open window was on the top floor.

Erik climbed the fire escape two steps at a time. It took him five minutes to make it to the top since the building was only eight stories tall. Once there. Erik retrieved his gun and stood stealthily to the side of the cracked, dingy window. He risked a peep inside and all he could make out was a bunch of plastic sheeting since the building was still under construction.

Erik crouched down and with his back pressed firmly against the brick wall, he used his right hand to open the window carefully. Once fully opened, Erik ducked inside swiftly, his foot crunching down on broken cement and dust. His Maxim 9 pistol with a silencer integrated into the gun aimed in front of him, Erik moved haltingly with his eyes scanning the abandoned floor like a hawk. He made it into a room almost the size of a box and there, propped up in the window was a Mk 13 Mod 0/5/7 sniper rifle.

Erik surveyed the area to make sure the coast was clear. Whoever had been occupying this spot must have been here for less than eight hours. Erik got down on his knee and peeked through the sniper scope. It was aimed for the MET. He knew that Fae hadn’t been killed, but the sniper would have taken a shot if Erik hadn’t shown up. Just then, Erik’s phone vibrated deep in his back pocket. He quickly stood up and when he grabbed his phone, it was Fae calling him.

“Fae?” Erik answered.

“I’m sorry. I had to leave work earlier today. I took an Uber.”

Erik paced back and forth.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked you up.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve been busy lately. I’m at the apartment now. Just got here.”

“Any luck with Cordell?” Erik questioned.

“No. Still nothing.”

“I’m on my way, Fae. Just—”

A garrote wire wrapped around Erik’s throat from behind, cutting off his airway. His phone dropped from his grasp and fell to the hard floor, the screen cracking and blacking out. Erik’s fingers gripped the edge of the wire and he could feel it cutting into his fingers and drawing blood. He planted his feet firmly against the floor and with brunt force, Erik shoved the person trying to choke him back, their body hitting the wall with a loud thud.

The wire slipped from Erik’s neck, leaving behind an indentation and slight blood. Erik didn’t have time to properly catch his breath. He turned and came face to face with a masked man dressed in dark camouflage and boots. The man charged Erik and Erik’s closed fist planted between the bridge of their nose and forehead. It was a sharp punch with a lot of recoil. There was no coming back from that. Erik put them to sleep.

Their body went limp and they were splayed out on the dusty floor like a starfish. Erik took that time to rub his neck and catch his breath. Suddenly, the man clipped Erik and he fell backwards on his hands to catch himself. The masked man did a kick up and was on his feet within seconds. Erik did the same move and they both broke out in combat with hard punching, dodging, kicks, and grunts.

Erik caught both of his arms and head-butted the man before body slamming him so hard his back bowed. While he squirmed, Erik’s fingers fisted the front of his camouflage jacket and he dragged him over to the wall where he tossed him against it like a rag doll. Erik put his foot in that man’s stomach before using his bloody fist to take off the mask. A Caucasian male with a rough face covered in blood and bruises met his ferocious gaze.

“The ICA sent you?” Erik questioned with a hoarse voice, “ANSWER ME!”

Erik pressed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s chin. He was probably seeing double with how hard Erik thumped him.

“Y-You’re supposed to-suppose to be one–one of us.”

As he attempted to talk, blood sprayed from between his lips.

“So that’s a yes,” Erik chuckled darkly.

He pistol-whipped the sniper with the handle of his gun, knocking him out for good. Erik emptied his pockets and found a phone, wallet, keys, and a few knives. Erik combed through his wallet before pocketing it. The phone was locked, so he wouldn’t be able to figure out how to hack it until he got back to his apartment.

He needed to get back to his apartment.

Fae was alone and an easy target without him there. Erik rushed to grab a dust barrier, snatching it from the wall and he shielded himself from the blood splatter that would come from killing the sniper. Silencer aimed at his head a safe distance away, Erik fired his pistol and the bullet hit his target in the temple. Erik cleaned up any other traces of him being there and wrapped up the dust barrier, tucking it beneath his arm before making his escape.

“Erik? Hello? Erik?”

Fae stood outside of her apartment with her phone to her ear. The call dropped suddenly between her and Erik. She pulled the phone away from her left ear and gave the device a puzzled look. Dialing him again, Erik didn’t answer.

“What the fuck?” Fae mouthed.

Confused, Fae fumbled with her keys while trying to enter her apartment. The door opened and she pushed her way inside, exhausted mentally from the amount of stress she’d been experiencing because of Cordell. Fae sat her work bag on the hardwood floor beside the door and removed her shoes. After tossing her keys on a small table next to the door, Fae proceeded to walk further into her apartment. Just then, rustling could be heard coming from her room. Fae paused, her ears perked to catch the noise again. She knew that Deuce was there, but he wouldn’t be in her things like that.

Fae walked towards the back of her apartment, her eyes staring straight ahead cautiously at her cracked bedroom door. A hard thump followed by soft cursing had Fae paralyzed with fear. One hand pressed to her chest, body frozen in that hallway, Fae’s eyes fell on her guest bedroom door and noticed it had been shut. She didn’t close it before she left that morning. Deuce was most likely in there so he wouldn’t get in the way. Deuce would be barking right now if it were a stranger. So it had to be someone he was familiar with rummaging around in Fae’s room.

Fae rushed towards her bedroom door with a fresh wave of courage, pushing the door open with force and coming face-to-face with the cheating man himself.

“Cordell?!”

The room looked as if a stampede passed through. It was filthy. Papers everywhere, clothes littering the entire room, dresser drawers out turned and hanging from the hinges, closet ransacked, mattress hanging from the box spring. Fae’s wide, shocked eyes looked back at Cordell with her mouth parted.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” She shouted.

Cordell simply looked at her with distant eyes before focusing back on finding whatever the FUCK it was he was looking for. Fae was livid.

“HELLO?! I’m talking to you!!”

Fae stomped over to Cordell, almost slipping on the papers scattered across the carpet. She caught herself by falling backwards onto the bed.

“Hey, HEY!” Fae gripped Cordell by his shoulder and forced him to turn back, “ANSWER ME ASSHOLE!”

“Get off of me, Fae.” Cordell finally spoke with a cold tone.

“Get off of you? Why don’t you explain to me why you’re vandalizing my fucking room, dick head?!!”

“WHERE DID YOU PUT IT?”

Cordell stood at his full height, towering over Fae. His voice seemed to change. It was deeper. Unfriendly. Unfamiliar. Cold. Fae cocked her head back and created space between them.

“Put what, Cordell?”

Cordell blinked at her and then he dropped his eyes down to the floor, “Doesn’t matter. It isn’t here.”

He was on his knees now, spreading the papers out, important papers that belonged to Fae. What is his deal?

“Where have you been, Cordell? I’ve been calling your phone and texting you for two days now!”

He ignored her again. Fae was shaking with rage.

“You know what! I’m sick of this shit. I’m so fucking sick and tired of your no good, CHEATING ASS!”

Cordell halted in his pursuit to find whatever it was he was looking for. His eyes slowly ascended to meet Fae’s. His face was void of expression.

“Yeah, I’ve known for days now that you’ve been cheating on me. Not one, but two women! One of which had a field trip at my job today. Miss. Rio?! She tells me you’ve been shacking it up with her all this time!”

Cordell bowed his head and exhaled.

Fae had a finger pointed at him aggressively and her voice was so loud it bounced off of the walls, “How could you disrespect me and bring these nasty women to MY APARTMENT WHERE I SLEEP?! How could you do this to me?! After everything I opened up to you about?! How I’ve been cheated on and mistreated in the past?!”

Fae’s vision blurred as tears flowed from her eyes. Cry-face and all, she was on a rampage. Cordell finally stood up and he just looked at her with no ounce of remorse. No sorries, no care as to how she felt. Nothing. Just a piece of shit man.

“YOU NEVER LOVED ME, HUH?!!! I loved you! I would have done anything for you!!!! How could you—just–how could you just stand there and say nothing?!!”

Fae threw her hands up and stared at Cordell with sadness. She was broken. He broke her. She tried to stop herself from crying, but the more she stood there, waiting for him to speak, the clearer it was to her that he didn’t care. He didn’t love her.

“ANSWER ME, CORDELL!!!!”

Cordell slowly blinked at her and then he started smirking. SMIRKING?! Fae was taken aback. She didn’t even know how to react to that. What kind of sick individual do you have to be to stand there and find this situation amusing?

“…what is wrong with you?” Fae questioned with a tremble in her voice.

Cordell turned his gaze towards the ceiling and released a slow, even breath. Fae waited, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

“You wanna know why I was so drawn to you, Fae?”

Fae squinted her eyes at Cordell with confusion.

“…it’s because I could see that you were broken. I could see the pain. I could see that you craved love and affection. No matter how many times your heart had been broken, you still loved hard. An easy girl. Easy to manipulate. To control. To trick. That’s what I craved. And guess what? That’s exactly what I needed to secure what I really wanted from you…”

A hand covered Fae’s mouth and she scanned Cordell’s face, in full disbelief of what he was saying to her right now. It was so disheartening and cruel. She was stunned to silence even though she wanted to break down and cry.

“You see, I’d just gotten out of prison before I met you. I had no place to go…to start fresh…to make a new living for myself. Just like the other bitches before you, I played my part and used my skills to weasel my way in. As soon as I found out about all that money you were sittin’ on…fuck…I knew I hit the jackpot.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She lowered her gaze and scanned the floor. She’d recently moved her paperwork that had all of her information regarding the money she’d gotten from her mother’s death. It was a lot of money. Fae hadn’t thought about it much lately because she planned to use that money to purchase a home soon. A beautiful home in upstate New York. Now, she wondered if Cordell had been planning to steal from her all this time.

“And now, I need that back, Faedra.”

Cordell stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal where she’d put them.

“…Do you even work as a teacher?”

Cordell narrowed his eyes at her.

“No.” Cordell replied nonchalantly.

“So, what was all that shit about seeing Miss. Rio at school?!”

Cordell shook his head and chuckled with annoyance.

“I go to the school during her lunch break and fuck her, Fae.”

Fae was numb to it all now.

“Wow…wow…”

She placed her hands on her hips and tried to fathom why she ended up in this situation.

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now….but I need that bank information.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me for it?” Fae mocked.

Cordell tilted his head and stared at her unblinking. Fae stared at him with a mixture of shock and fear.

“Believe it or not, Miss. Rio is in on it. The other chick? She had bank too until I cleaned her out. Miss. Rio and I have an understanding where no matter how pissed off we are with each other, we’ll always get back together. It’s been that way for years. Anyway, I played my part to get what I wanted.”

“Wow…Congratulations, Cordell. You really fooled me. Too bad I fooled you too.”

Cordell gave Fae a confused look.

“You wanna know what I’ve been up to these past few days? Closer than you think. Right next door actually.”

Cordell’s entire demeanor switched to anger.

“That’s right, I’ve been fucking the neighbor.”

Cordell balled his fists up and his nostrils flared. He was becoming even more aggressive. Fae folded her arms and smirked at him.

“It was good too. The first time. So good I ain’t never have dick like that before in my life. He’s big, he’s attentive, he knows how to work my body, he spoils me, he adores me, Deuce loves him. He fucked me so good in our bed when you were gone this past weekend…mmm…all over the bed. In the shower…on the sink…”

Cordell’s eye twitched. He was ready to snap. Fae knew she was pushing her luck, but one thing about Cordell, he hated Erik. He knew deep down that Erik is more of man than he ever was. He was afraid of Erik. Afraid of what he was capable of. Not only did Fae feel his big dick energy the moment she laid eyes on him, Cordell did too. Erik stole the one thing Cordell thought he could control forever. That struck a nerve.

“I can still feel him inside of me right now…raw…thick…long…”

Cordell took a step towards Fae.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Knowing that another man makes me cum with his mouth and his dick? Treats me with respect? A man I barely knew? Stings, doesn’t it? I hope it does. Because that’s how I felt. You’re right, I do love hard. I did allow myself to be mistreated more than once. Guess what? I took back my power! And it felt soooo good.”

Fae’s tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook with rage. She felt empowered.

“Damn,” Cordell shook his head with disgust, “Just desperate, huh? You think that’s a flex? You offered up the pussy to a random nigga you barely know just to get your lick back? That’s some wild shit…”

Cordell broke out into a fit of laughter. He doubled over and laughed. Fae simply stared at him. She knew he would deflect and turn it against her. Didn’t matter, she still won. She could see past it all. His ego was bruised.

“Now, since you got that off your chest, back to the main issue,” Cordell started walking towards Fae, “Where…is…the…bank information, Faedra?”

Fae backed away and almost tripped over a dresser drawer. She caught herself against the wall and eased towards the bedroom door.

“Don’t act scared now, Fae. You were so bold not too long ago.”

“I’m not giving you the information, Cordell.” Fae said.

“Hm, you will. Even if I have to choke it out of you.”

Fae took off running and Cordell was right on her heels. He pushed her and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Deuce started clawing at the door and aggressively barking. Fae lifted herself by her arms and looked up at Cordell. He grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look at him. Fae gasped, trying to unravel Cordell’s hand from her braids.

“It’s okay. You must want me to take it by force, huh? I got just the trick…”

Reaching behind him, Cordell revealed a Glock 17. He aimed it at Fae’s sternum and pressed the barrel firmly into her chest. Fae squeezed her eyes shut and her tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Now, I’m not gonna kill you here. I’m taking you with me. On your feet, NOW.”

He yanked her by the hair to control her movements and it felt as if he ripped her hair from her scalp. Fae whimpered in pain and looked up at Cordell with a petrified gaze. He trailed the barrel of the Glock 17 up the side of her neck and then stuck it deep into the flesh of her cheek.

“Get your shit, we’re going for a ride, baby girl.”

With one forceful shove, Fae stumbled further down the hallway, afraid to look back at the gun aimed at her head, ready to fire.

Ding

The elevator doors separated and Erik didn’t wait for them to fully open before he rushed out and into the hallway of the thirteenth floor. He jogged up to Fae’s apartment door and banged.

“Fae?!”

He couldn’t use his cell phone because it had blacked out. His other phone is in his apartment, but all he cared about at the moment was whether or not she was safe.

Erik tried the door knob and was shocked to find it opened. Shocked and anxious. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, looking from left to right.

“FAEDRA!!!”

Erik shut the apartment door and sprinted towards her bedroom. Deuce’s barking stilled his footsteps and he opened the door for him to come out of the guest bedroom. Deuce leaped up at him, continuously barking as if he had something important to communicate to Erik.

Erik’s heart practically rattled within his rib cage when he followed Deuce in the direction of Fae’s room. Erik’s thick fingers pushed the door back and as it creaked open, his eyes grew wide and his lips parted. It was a disaster.

Sean had been here. He was looking for something and Fae showed up at the wrong time. He’d taken her. Erik combed through the room to find anything that stood out at him. Most of the papers chaotically covering the floor were important documents like bills and work information. Erik made his way back out towards the living room, scooping up Deuce and leaving the apartment.

Out in the hall, Erik quickly opened his door and rushed inside, placing Deuce on the floor and locking his door. He knew no one had been to his apartment because he would have seen them coming and going. He couldn’t check the surveillance on his broken phone so he entered his room and retrieved his work phone.

Erik had placed a tracker on Fae’s phone the night she’d discovered Sean AKA Cordell had been cheating on her. It was the best way to keep tabs on her while he was away. Using his private tracking app, Erik was able to see where she was. Sean was on his way to the Bronx. Erik was never able to track Sean’s phone. The man may be a coward, but he was a great criminal. He was good at what he did. Swindle, rob, and murder.

Erik made his way towards the foot of his bed and after placing his cell phone within his back pocket, he used both of his hands to lift his mattress. Underneath was a gun safe filled with all types of weapons. Erik tucked a few hand guns in his waistband, two blades in his socks, extended clips, and a few silencer attachments

Lastly, he retrieved a full face, tactical mask in all black. Diesel tried to gain his attention, and Erik didn’t want to leave Deuce and him alone, but he had to save Fae or Sean was going to kill her. Rushing into his office, he opened his closet door and grabbed a vest and a pair of biker gloves. Before Erik left the apartment, he made sure there was enough food for the boys and then he was out the door.

Erik was out of that garage and onto the street. He used his all black sport bike to get their faster. The sun was setting and the longer it took to get there, it would be too late. Erik would never forgive himself. He refused to let anything happen to her. Bluetooth connection from the bike allowed him to follow their trail. Her sensor paused on Edson Avenue. Erik was fifteen minutes away.

Fae was led towards a beautifully maintained residence, a place where comfort meets convenience in the vibrant neighborhood of the Bronx. The large fenced-in private yard is adorned with men who didn’t look like the type to mess around with. One look past the weed smoke, you could sense the evil within.

She was taken around the side of the home to a set of concrete steps that led down towards a door. Cordell forced Fae to walk down the steps and she took her time so she wouldn’t fall. When they finally reached the bottom, Cordell banged twice and five seconds later, the door swung open and Fae locked eyes with Miss. Rio.

“La trajiste aquí, Sean?!” Miss. Rio argued. Rolling her eyes at Fae.

“Cálmate, I had to, Alejandra.”

She kissed her teeth and stepped to the side. Cordell entered the basement and Alejandra shut the door.

“Did you find it?” She questioned impatiently.

“No. I combed that apartment and ain’t find shit.”

“After playing house all this time you still don’t know where it is?!”

Fae cut her eyes at Alejandra and mugged her. She had a gun pointed at her back, there was no use in fighting her way out of there.

“She moved shit around, baby!” Cordell fired back.

“We had a plan! Our plan was to take that money and get out of New York! What now? No money, no leaving. I thought we were going to give Gabby a better life?”

Who’s Gabby?

“We will, we will. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, we’re back together as a family. Stop stressing.”

“estúpido,” Alejandra rolled her eyes, “you fucked her because I gave you permission!”

“Alejandra, I’m not getting into this argument with you right now. Listen, baby, while you stand there yelling at me, we’re wasting time. Get the chair and the rope for me.”

Alejandra turned on her heels, jet black hair swaying behind her as she walked away to get the chair and rope Cordell requested. Fae was beyond dumbfounded. Who the hell is Sean and who the hell is Gabby?! Alejandra appeared and with an aggravated look on her face she sat the folding chair down and presented red rope for Cordell to take.

Fae was reminded of the gun aimed at her spine when Cordell aggressively shoved her with it. She winced, walking over to the chair while Alejandra forced her to take a seat with her hands on Fae’s shoulders pushing downward. Fae took that opportunity to raise her leg and put her foot in her back so hard Alejandra fell face first on the floor of the unfinished basement.

“You BITCH!”

Fae didn’t see it coming. She wasn’t prepared for Cordell’s assault.

WHACK!

A hard, crisp, head-hurting, back-handed slap to Fae’s face caused her bottom lip to split open and bleed. Hot tears flooded her vision and she bowed her head, stunned and embarrassed.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Fae shouted.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HER FOR WHAT SHE DID!”

Alejandra wrapped her small first around Fae’s hair and yanked. Fae looked her in the eyes with a rage beyond words. Alejandra smirked with her glossy lips before spitting in Fae’s face. Fae squeezed her eyes shut to avoid it from getting in her eyes.

“perra estúpida…estás muerta perra…”

Fae wipes her face free of tears and spit and she used her tongue to lick up the blood. Cordell pressed the barrel of the gun into Fae’s temple.

“I need you to give me your information so I can get the money myself. I want you to write out a check for the full amount and take it from there. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.” Fae responded.

“That’s all you had to do, baby. I wouldn’t have put my hands on you if you weren’t being so fucking difficult.”

Cordell disappeared behind Fae and he tossed Alejandra his gun so she could keep it locked on Fae. Cordell wrapped Fae to the hard, metal chair tightly.

“We’ll keep you here for the night. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re heading to the bank.”

Fae watched as Cordell strolled over to Alejandra. He gripped her chin delicately and used his thumb to caress it. They closed the space between them and kissed passionately, like lovers would. It was just a reminder that he never loved her. It was all a game to him.

“Who’s Sean and Gabby, Cordell?” Fae questioned with a shaky voice.

Cordell slowly turned his head to look at her.

“…I guess I owe you that much. Gonna be dead within the next twenty four hours anyway…”

He leaned his back against a wall and folded his hands over his crotch.

“…My real name is Sean. Cordell is a stolen identity from a cell mate of mine some years ago. I decided to make a new life for myself since I was on the run from other shit that went down…anyway, I got in with his family. They accepted me without hesitation, because Cordell hadn’t been in their life since he was three. I knew that I needed money, so I did what I do best. I found you, did my best impression of the perfect man, and finally I get to take what I’ve worked so hard for…”

Fae listened, hanging on to every word. She was dealing with a real criminal mastermind. The worst kind of individual.

“Alejandra and I go way back,” Cordell laughed and Alejandra blushes, “She’s been my down-bitch since I could remember…yeah…I met her in ‘08 through her brother which is a partner of mine. Derrick and I used to get into some shit back in the day. We reunited when I got out of prison and we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other…she got pregnant with a beautiful baby girl, and it made me want to work harder to get us a better life. We plan to get away to Mexico hopefully.”

“Wait…you have a daughter?” Fae was stunned.

“…All those times I went to work? I was actually spending quality time with Gabriella. She’s three, almost four. Full of life, funny, smart. The best thing to ever happen to me…”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. A secret child? A life of crime? An ex-con? On the run?

What the fuck?

“Story time is over, papi. She knows too much already.” Alejandra said.

“When the lady speaks, you listen.”

Cordell wrapped his arms around Alejandra’s waist and stared longingly into her eyes. Fae wanted to vomit.

“Make sure Pedro and his guys keep an eye on her. You know what I want, right?”

Cordell smacked Alejandra on the butt through her jeans.

“Está bien, papi.”

With a bite of her lip, Alejandra peeled away and towards the basement door leading to outside. She shouted at the men standing in front of the house. Two of them descended the stairs into the basement. They stared at Fae with amusement. Sinister smirks and dark chuckles.

“You know what to do if she tries anything. Slap her around.”

Cordell and Alejandra leave Fae alone with the two Latino men.

4403 Edson Avenue.

The night sky and flickering street lights made Erik blend in. He parked his bike a few homes down and slipped on his tactical mask. Erik knew a little about the neighborhood. It was a community full of Latin Kings. One of the biggest Hispanic gangs in the U.S with a power base built on massive amounts of drug trafficking and a reputation for violence. So much power that the law couldn’t even control them.

Derrick Rio is a member of the Latin Kings and Sean’s partner in crime. Alejandra Rio is a wolf in sheep clothing. She’s a friendly teacher by day, and a drug dealer by night. Erik had known about Sean and Rio for a while now. However, he doesn’t know what their plan is with Fae. Why hold her hostage? Why not just go on the run again?

As Erik stealthily made his way towards the house, he couldn’t help but blame himself. Fae wouldn’t have been kidnapped if he killed Sean when he had the chance. He brushed this job off as a side hustle. If he’d known from the beginning that it was much bigger than he initially thought, he would have handled it before the ICA intervened. He called himself trying to be multiple steps ahead. Turns out he was wrong. He’s never wrong.

Outside of the single family home, Hispanic men littered the front yard smoking weed and goofing around. Erik assumed this house was Mis Rio’s. His assumption was correct when the lady herself appeared from the side of the house.

���Oye, ¿podéis ustedes dos vigilarla hasta que regresemos?”

She asked if two of the men could keep an eye on Fae. That meant that Erik didn’t need to go on a search for her. She was in the basement. Two men separated from three others and headed towards the side of the home. Erik crouched down and moved along the side of a black Chevrolet Tahoe. He could smell their weed and his eyes searched to see if there was a way he could get around them and do a sneak attack.

Two mean were leaning against an all black Honda Civic while the other was pacing back and forth. As far as physical appearances goes, they didn’t appear to be a threat. All three of them looked between the ages of eighteen and twenty five. Erik guessed that they didn’t have a say in whether or not they would join the Latin Kings. If your friends and family are affiliated, then it’s destined for you to be.

Erik got down on one knee and grasped the handle of his B&T SS9 pistol and plucked a silencer out of his front vest pocket to screw on. With a full magazine, Erik took a second to position his pistol and then he shot up from behind the car so fast they didn’t see it coming.

The muzzle blasted off followed by a reduced pop similar to the sound of a puff of air. The first two young men slumped backwards against the car and the last man was two seconds two late trying to grab a hold of his gun before Erik put a bullet in his head.

Erik made his way over to them to make sure he’d finished the job and after close inspection, all three of them experienced instant death. Erik moved as quickly as he could and he dragged their bodies one-by-one towards the yard of the house, stacking them next to a trash can. Now that he had that taken care of, Erik jogged over towards the stairs leading down into the basement.

There is a short, black curtain concealing the window within the door. He was able to get a tiny peek inside of the basement and he could see two men guarding and watching Fae like a hawk. Straining his neck, Erik could only see Fae’s lower half sitting in a folding chair and restrained with red rope. The best option was to draw one of them out. Erik knocked on the door with two quick rasps before speeding up the short concrete stairs and hiding.

Like clock work, a short, beefy, latino male with buzz cut hair opened the side door and stepped out. Erik tightened the grip on his pistol when he started to climb the stairs. His shadow could be seen coming closer so Erik turned fully to face him. With quick precision, Erik raised his gun, and as soon as his feet touched the top step, Erik gave him a head shot to the temple. With all his strength, he caught him before he hit the ground hard. He slowly lowered him to the steps.

Now, he descends the stairs. He didn’t even waste time. Erik appeared within the doorway and the other guy—slicked back stringy hair, tattoos all over his face and arms—did a double take and stood up. He raised up on Erik and grabbed his hand gun from the front of his jeans. Erik was faster; swifter. He snatched his gun and used his pistol with the silencer to kill him.

He hit the floor with a hard crash. Fae could be heard trying to catch her barely audible breath. Erik turned his relieved eyes onto Fae and he quickly revealed himself so she wouldn’t think he was trying to harm her. The way her face transformed in front of him almost made him emotional.

Fae looked as if she’d seen a guardian angel. Her eyes lit up like sparklers in the summer and her lips spread into a slight smile while tears streamed down her cheeks. As Erik approached her, Fae continued to cry, only this time she was breaking down. As Erik got closer, he could see a blue-black bruise on the side of her face and her lower lip was swollen and bleeding.

She looked as if she wanted to shout his name. Erik watched her writhe and cry, too anxious to wrap her arms around him. Erik worked fast and after a final knot the rope fell from her body. Speedily, Fae shot up from the fold chair and turned, embracing Erik with a hug similar to a boa constrictor. Erik rubbed her back and with one gloved hand he cupped the back of her head, leaning in to plant a few kisses to her forehead.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you…”

Fae wouldn’t let him go. She was cutting off his circulation.

“It’s okay…I’m here now…you’re safe…no one’s gonna hurt you any more…it’s okay, Fae. It’s okay…”

He pried her arms from around him and stared down at her.

“We gotta go. The longer we stick around, the more dangerous this shit becomes…”

Erik gripped Fae’s much smaller hand and they both made their way towards the stairs leading up. Erik halted his steps and turned his eyes onto Fae with intensity.

“You have to stay back at all times, do you understand? I refuse to let you die.”

“Okay,” Fae swallowed spit, “What about Sean and Alejandra?”

Erik looked at her for a second before speaking. So, he told her his real name?

“I’m going to kill them.” Erik replied.

Fae nodded her head and let out a sigh of relief.

“Listen to me, stay right here. I’ll come back for you.”

Erik kissed Fae’s forehead one more time, put his mask back on, and made his way up the steps.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

The music continued to blast and all eyes turned towards Erik materializing from the basement. In unison, they all stood to their feet, guns raised and aimed at him. Erik put both of his hands up and slowly backed away towards the door. The closer he went, his eyes scanned the room and one of the thugs closest to him had an AK47 pointed at Erik. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“NO TE MUEVES!”

Derrick Rio marched out from the kitchen. Erik locked eyes with him. He’s a pretty boi with slicked back wavy hair, earrings in his ears, and swagger. Teardrop tattoos on both sides proved that he was a killer. The scar on his right cheek let Erik know that his face had been sliced open. Nothing scary to Erik. Just a wanna be gangsta. He’d killed plenty of those types.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

Erik remained silent.

Derrick squinted his eyes, “Can’t speak, brother? Hard of hearing?”

“HABLAR!!”

The AK47 almost touched Erik’s cheek. Erik finally parted his lips to speak.

“…quita esa arma de mi cara antes de que te haga.”

The man laughed in Erik’s face.

“KILL HIM, ACE—”

Erik did a move similar to Denzel in The Equalizer and now he had possession of the AK47. His finger didn’t hesitate to fire off rounds in Ace’s ugly face. Erik dropped behind a couch and it was guns blazing. Erik would appear from behind the couch and fire off rounds into anybody he had his eyes on. He didn’t miss. He was better at this. In the middle of it all, Sean and Alejandra were at the top of the steps, no intentions on going down stairs. They didn’t know what was happening or who the masked man was.

Bullets flying, holes in the walls, shattered glass, ruined furniture. Derrick was the only one left standing. He couldn’t believe one man took out a room full of Latin Kings. Erik walked from behind the couch and made his way over to him. Derrick didn’t know whether to point his gun at Erik and shoot or run for his life.

“Ima get yo’ ass either way, Derrick. Just put the gun down and put your hands behind your head.” Erik said.

Derrick hesitates, but eventually he complied. His pistol dropped to the floor and both of his hands raised and his fingers interlocked behind his head. He tilted his chin up and gave Erik a prideful look.

“I’ve waited for the moment I get the chance to kill off a Rio…”

POP! POP! POP!

Derrick’s body slowly and dramatically slid down the eggshell-white wall, a vertical trail of crimson painting the surface. Derrick’s head dangled to the side and he went limp. Erik peeled his eyes away from his lifeless body and just then, from the stairs, Sean began shooting at Erik. Erik ducked and moved out of the way just in time.

“COME OUT MOTHERFUCKER!!”

“Derrick! Oh my God! NO—”

“STAY BACK ALEJANDRA!”

“MY BROTHER! mi hermano esta muerto! ¡DERRICK!”

Erik looked at Fae from the top of the basement stairs. She was holding onto the railing with a vice grip. Erik extended a hand for her to take and Fae clung to him as Erik pulled. Fae rushed up the stairs and pressed her small frame against Erik’s back. Sean continued to fire off rounds at nothing.

“COME THE FUCK OUT! FACE ME!”

Erik dropped the AK47 to the floor and grabbed another fully loaded pistol with a silencer.

“Get down, Fae.”

Erik walked out and shot back at Sean. Fae crawled out on her hands and knees, staying back while she looked up at Erik putting in that work. If it was any other moment, Fae would have been turned on. Right now, all she wanted to do was get her hands on Alejandra. Sean didn’t stand a chance with Erik.

POW! POW! POW!

POP! POP! POP!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“URRR! UGH!”

Erik got Sean in his shoulder. Sean quickly scurried backwards up the stairs, shoving Alejandra as he went to get her to move. She got to her feet and tried her best to move Sean.

“BITCH! GET BACK AND HIDE!” Sean shouted.

Alejandra dropped him and ran away towards the room they were having sex in. She wasn’t even fully dressed. She only had on a pair of panties.

“Shit,” Sean hyperventilates while trying to apply pressure to his wound, “Fuck—”

POP! POP!

Sean fired off his gun and Erik dodged a bullet to the face. Sean got to his feet and stumbled into a vacant room to his right. He pressed his back against the door and tried to catch his breath but each time he breathed in, his lungs were on fire.

Erik was at the bottom of the stairs and Fae came come out of hiding. She creeped over towards the side of the staircase and out of sight. One look at her beautiful face, Erik wordlessly reminded her that everything was going to be alright.

“STOP HIDING, SEAN! WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TOUGH GUY SHIT?” Erik yelled up the stairs.

“FUCK YOU, NIGGA!” Sean replied with a shout.

“YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON FAE! YOU COWARD ASS NIGGA! I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU A LONG TIME AGO!!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME?!”

Sean peeked his head out of the room and his eyes widened and bulged. Erik had taken off his tactical mask.

“You…” Sean spoke with astonishment.

“WHAT’S UP, NEIGHBOR?!”

POP! POP!

Cordell moved out of the way and two holes formed in the door. Erik took two steps at a time and Sean jumped out at him, swinging a bat and hitting Erik in his ribs. Erik couldn’t feel the impact too much since he wore a vest. Snatching off his gloves, Erik gave Sean a mean uppercut in his stomach and then a jab to his face, clipping him in the jaw. Sean stumbled backwards, blood gushing from his mouth.

“THAT’S FOR PUTTING YOUR HANDS ON FAE!”

Fae cautiously climbed the stairs. She remained a safe distance away while Sean and Erik tussled.

“GET THE FUCK UP!” Erik barked out with a sonorous voice and spit flying, “NOW!”

Sean would try to stand on his two feet and Erik would knock him back down again with his fist colliding with his jaw. Erik released a menacing chuckle with his fists covered in blood.

Alejandra dashed out of the room and charged at Erik. She started windmilling him and Erik grabbed her frail arms and shoved her ass back. That was Fae’s moment.

“ALEJANDRA!”

Brown eyes connected and Alejandra tried to escape but Fae grabbed her by the ankle and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Fae clawed her way up towards Alejandra’s face and she wrapped her fist in her hair and yanked so hard a chunk of her hair ripped out.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Alejandra screamed.

“Baby!” Sean shouted.

Erik put Sean in a head lock. Sean struggled, his left fingers grabbing a vase from a small table and smashing it over Erik’s head. Erik ate that shit like he had a skull made from steel. He picked Sean up and like Bane, he put his knee in his spine and dropped him to the floor.

“SEAN!” Alejandra cried out.

Alejandra punched Fae in the face and kicked her off before racing down the hall and back to the room. Inside, she found a gun and turned on her heels. Fae moved out of the way and Alejandra fired off the gun into the hall. Erik took this opportunity to use Sean as a shield. He picked him up by the back of his neck.

The bullets entered his torso and his body shook from side to side. Erik had Sean by the neck and he brought his lips to his ear to give him one last word before he fell into eternal slumber.

“That fake LV bag you gifted Fae? That shit was a chew toy for our boys.”

Erik let out a dark chuckle and then dropped Sean to the floor. He could see Sean crawling and Erik cocked his head back and scrunched his face up in a disgusted manner.

“Nigga, you still moving?”

POP!

Fae was paralyzed. To witness her ex being murdered in front of her felt unreal. She turned away so she wouldn’t look into his dead eyes.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

Alejandra shot at Erik and he caught a bullet in the chest. Fae gasped, ready to come to his aid, but Erik’s vest is bullet proof.

Click click click

She was out of bullets.

Fae ran so fast towards her Erik didn’t have time to do it himself. She tackled Alejandra to the floor in the room and Erik jogged over, watching them tussle. He went to grab Alejandra by her arm but Fae pushed him back.

“No! No Erik! Let me handle her!”

She drew her fist back and jabbed Alejandra in the face.

“She spit on me!”

Erik furrowed his brows and looked down at Alejandra like she was the scum of the earth.

“That’s some nasty shit.” He said with a hushed tone.

Fae climbed on top of Alejandra and wrapped her fists around her neck. She squeezed and squeezed, Alejandra turning purple in the face.

“AYE!”

Erik had his pistol in his grip fast and turned to shoot down the hallway. More thugs came to the rescue. The entire neighborhood was full of Latin Kings. A neighbor probably put word out that they were in trouble.

Alejandra used Fae’s hair for leverage and flipped them over so that Fae was on her back. She stood and dragged Fae by the hair towards the bathroom where she lifted the toilet seat with her foot, preparing to water board her. Fae saw what she was attempting to do, so she used her legs muscles to stand and she had Alejandra by the hair again, twisting her neck.

“GET OFF ME!” Alejandra screamed like a banshee.

“YOU GOT MY HAIR, BITCH!” Fae yelled.

Alejandra tugged and Fae tugged harder. They were out of breath, muscles fatigued, and hearts racing.

“LET ME GO, STUPID BITCHHHHH!!!!!!!” Alejandra screeched.

POP! POP! POP!

POW! POW!

Erik was holding it down at the top of the stairs. They just wouldn’t stop coming. At first, he was shocked that the police hadn’t shown up, but then he remembered the power that the Latin Kings had, and that most of the police were on their payroll.

Back in the bathroom, Fae was finally able to get Alejandra off of her hair. She picked up a rat tail comb with a metal tip and stabbed Alejandra in the thigh. She let her go and leaped back, pulling the comb out, blood spraying out of the small puncture. They were both pumped full of adrenaline that any pain they felt didn’t register in their minds.

B-cup titties swaying, Alejandra lunged at Fae and Fae stepped out of the way, watching her trip over the toilet. She got behind her and smushed her face along the rim of the toilet seat.

“AHHHHHHH!!!!” Alejandra shouted.

Water covered the floor and Fae slipped.

“COME HERE!”

Alejandra grabbed Fae by the ankle and Fae kicked her in the face. Fae fell back against the wall and pushed up on her feet. Before Alejandra could attack Fae again, Fae pushed her so hard, her head hit the mirror and put a crack in it. Alejandra fell to the ground and Fae could see a laceration on her scalp and blood.

“FAE!”

Erik returned to the room, face sweaty and locs wild in his face. You couldn’t tell from his dark clothing that he had blood there. Fae’s knees buckled and Erik caught her. He gripped her face and examined her.

“I gotta get you outta here,” Erik looked down at Alejandra, “I’ll finish her off.”

Erik didn’t hesitate when he aimed his gun for the back of her head and pulled the trigger. Blood pooled out of her head and onto the tile floor.

Erik grabbed Fae’s hand and they ran so fast down the hall and steps. They decided to leave through the basement. Fae collected her things and Erik made sure he didn’t leave any of his guns behind. They left the home in just enough time, taking the back way and down an alley. Just then, like a scene from a movie, the entire home exploded. Fae had never seen anything like it.

“How—”

“Let’s go, Fae.” Erik urged.

They ran two blocks until Erik could spot his sport bike. Putting his mask back on, Erik worked quickly to take off his vest. He had a hoodie on underneath that he slipped over Fae’s head.

Fae’s tired eyes scanned his body covered in a fitted black beater. Erik put the vest back on and hopped onto the bike. With his strength, he wrapped an arm around Fae’s slim waist and placed her on the bike behind him. He revved it up and Fae wrapped her arms securely around him. Hood up, Erik zoomed off down the street. When he finally made it off of the block and onto the busy rode, he could see NYPD, Paramedics, and two Fire trucks.

Even as the bike slowed down to a stop, Fae didn’t take her cheek off of Erik’s back. She opened her eyes and looked around, noticing that they weren’t back at the apartment. They were parked outside of a warehouse in Staten Island. They’d been riding for an hour and a half. Time was lost to her, all she kept thinking about was the nights events. Erik climbed off of the bike and turned towards Fae.

Fae looked up at him as he removed his mask.

The tears began to pour. She will be forever grateful that Erik rescued her. He removed his gloves and cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs smeared away her tears.

Fae parted her dry lips to speak, “He was trying to steal the money I’d gotten from my mother’s death.”

“That explains why your room looked the way it did. How much money did you get?”

“About 100k…”

Erik strokes her cheek.

“I moved the information to a safe that I have hidden in my guest bedroom. That’s where I keep all of my personal documents.”

“Smart,” Erik smirked at her, “I’m just happy to be looking at you right now. I thought I was too late…”

“How did you know where to find me?” Fae questioned with a trembling voice.

Erik hesitated speaking and Fae noticed. She searched his eyes and then Erik dropped his gaze to the dirt.

“Fae…I haven’t been honest with you.”

Fae tilted her head but remained silent. Exhaling, Erik took both of her hands in his and squeezed.

“…I’m not a bodyguard.”

Fae nodded her head slowly her eyes lowering to their hands.

“I’m a professional Hitman.”

Fae’s head lifted to look at him again.

“I’ve been assigned to a job to track down Sean and kill him. He has an extensive history of murder and scamming from all across the U.S. I’ve been assigned to the job for five months…”

Fae stared at Erik with an intense gaze.

“I have something to show you.”

Erik helped her off of the bike and they headed towards the warehouse.

“As a Hitman, we have these specific safeguards implemented in different states. In New York, there’s three. I’m stationed here until I decide to relocate.”

Fae allowed Erik to lead her towards a door on the side of the warehouse. Erik used his thumb against a fingerprint identifier and it ignited green. The door clicked open and Erik walked inside. The door shut on its own behind Fae and as if the warehouse was controlled by some artificial intelligence, everything came to life.

She didn’t know which area to take in first. On one end of the warehouse, there were parked cars and bikes. On another side there was an area for combat. In the middle there is a work station with many computers and a giant TV screen suspended from the ceiling. Fae’s eyes fell on a wall covered in weapons from guns, to knives. Finally, she spotted another wall with a spotlight. This wall was covered with a diagram of photos thumbtacked together.

Erik made his way over to that specific wall with Fae in tow. As they inched closer, Fae recognized something that caused her to pull her hand away from Erik’s. She walked around him and over towards that wall. Fae’s footsteps paused right before the giant billboard and she looked back at Erik with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Erik…why am I up here?”

Fae’s eyes scanned the billboard. The covert photography of her made her feel uneasy. There were photos of her leaving work, her apartment, New Jersey, walking Deuce, out with friends, on dates with Sean. Any and everything she could be doing. There were even photos of her through her apartment windows from a distance.

“Wha–wha—I–I don’t—I don’t understand. I—”

Fae wrinkled her nose and her mouth fell open. She blinked her eyes rapidly, as if trying to make sense of what she was staring at. Erik stood in front of her, a guilty expression on his face.

“Fae…I was given the job to Kill Sean—”

“You told me that already.” Fae spoke.

“…So, with that job came rules. Rules that can’t be broken. Not only was Sean a target…you were too. I had orders to assassinate you and him.”

Fae’s lower lip quivered.

“All this time? So what? You moved in next door so you could keep tabs on me? You showed up and tricked me into having sex with you—”

“NO.” Erik cut Fae off.

“So why did you get close to me?! Why did you even do that knowing the risk?!!”

Erik shrugged, unable to find the right words. He looked towards the ceiling, hands in his pockets.

“I just…Fae I fell for you.”

Fae narrowed her eyes at him and tightened her jaw.

“This may sound crazy, but all that time I spent following you, watching you, learning everything about you…I started catching feelings—”

“STOP.”

Fae put her hands up and shut her eyes.

“This is crazy,” She ran a hand over her frizzy hair, “So you fucked me and sent me back to a psycho when you could have told me the truth?! What is wrong with you???!!!!”

“I COULDN’T TELL YOU THE TRUTH!” Erik shouted.

“”WHY? WHY NOT?” Fae yelled back.

Erik put his hands together, leaning in with his face inches away.

“WHY NOT, ERIK?”

“Fae, please. I fucked up, I know that, okay? But you gotta understand me when I say this…what I do, and the people I work for…they don’t play about shit like this. They will interfere and fuck shit up. The ONLY REASON why shit hit the fan, is because of my partner. I have to update her on everything that’s going on. She put a bug in their ear, making me look bad. SHE WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU.”

Fae flinched when Erik’s tone went dark as his tone elevated. He was pissed. Locs in his face, slugs peeking through and muscles flexed.

“AND I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER!!!!…okay?” Erik lowered his voice to a soft timbre and tucked his chin, looking at fae through his lashes with a penetrating gaze and flared nostrils, “I fucked up because I caught feelings. It was deeper than a hit, baby. I fell in love with you. I couldn’t be cold-blooded Killmonger. All eyes were on me 24/7. If I would have said one thing to you, I could have found you dead in your apartment.”

His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Fae hugged herself and her vision blurred with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik shook his head, “I truly am, baby. I know I fucked up. Sean would have had the entire Latin Kings coming after you if he so much as caught a whiff of anything. Alejandra and Derrick are a part of the Latin Kings. She was in your apartment. They knew where you worked, where you lived…Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?!”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip to try and calm her hiccuping from crying. She nodded her head rapidly in understanding.

“You have every right to hate me right now. I wish I could go back and fix this. I wish I could, baby. I wish you never met that fucking nigga…”

Erik’s hands pulled Fae into his body. She looked up at him and her hands were pressed against his chest.

“…I wish you didn’t have to go through what you went through tonight…”

Erik’s body shook with rage.

“I knew where you were tonight because I put a tracker on your cell phone that night after the bar. I’m glad I did. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to find you…”

Fae shifted from one foot to the other. She was nervous. Erik lifted her chin so she could look at him.

“I want to be honest with you. I want…”

Erik’s eyes went from her lips to her eyes.

“I want what you want. Even if that means you want nothing to do with me…but I’ll never stop loving you, Fae.”

Fae lowered her head and stared at her hands against his chest. She had a migraine, her face hurt, her body hurt, her hair was a mess, her ex was a murderer and used her for her money, Erik is a Hitman. It was all too much. Her head was ready to explode. And now, she’s finding out that she was supposed to be dead too? Not only did Sean want to kill her, so did the people that Erik worked for. But wait did he just say—

“Fae?”

Erik’s voice snapped her out of her daze. She slowly lifted her head to look at him.

“You love me?” Fae asked.

“…Yes.”

It all made sense to her now.

“Was that why you left my apartment that night? You were going to tell me that you loved me, weren’t you?…”

Erik smirked, “Yeah, I was.”

Fae chuckles as tears rolled down her cheeks, “You should have.”

She broke down crying and Erik wrapped his arms around her and hugged her right.

“This is a lot,” Fae said with a shaky voice.

“It is. I couldn’t wait to tell you tomorrow. You deserved to know…you been deserved to know.”

“…Wow,” Fae shakes her head, “I can’t believe this is my life…”

She pulled away from Erik so she could look at him.

“Erik, I’ve only known you for such a short while, but when I’m with you…I’m a better version of myself. You bring out this confidence and self worth in me that I never knew I had,” Fae released a shaky breath, “I’ve been so broken so many times,” Her bottom lip trembled, “And you showed me the true meaning of what it’s like to be loved.”

Erik stared at her, a soft smile on his face.

“…You didn’t have to fall for me, you could have just—just done your job and got rid of me. And as much as I don’t like that you kept this a secret, all of it just proves that you cared for me, a girl you barely even knew…you saved my life in so many ways. And I just want you to know, I love you too.”

Fae pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes to control her tears. Erik felt his own eyes sting. He blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying.

“Fae,” Erik picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, “I told you, you’re special. You’re amazing. I love you...”

She buried her face into his neck and Erik rubbed his hands up and down her spine.

Fae sniffled, “I want to go home…”

Erik couldn’t agree more.

The energy felt different.

The moment she entered his apartment, she felt like it was her home. Her apartment didn’t feel like home anymore. It was tainted with Sean. Everything he touched, his side of the bed, his clothes, his scent. She didn’t want any part of it.

Erik took her bag from her and helped her remove her boots. They silently walked together, Erik guiding her to his room. Diesel and Deuce were excited to see them. In Erik’s room, he shut the door behind him and proceeded to undress Fae. His eyes never left hers as each layer of clothing peeled away from her frame. Erik walked her to his bathroom and sat her down on the toilet while he ran her bath.

Fae watched him take off his vest, beater, boots, and socks. They were both filthy, but Erik was concerned with making sure Fae was clean and comfortable. The bath water ran and Erik poured in epsom salt. He opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed all the first aid items to tend to her injuries. When the water had finished, Erik turned off the tap and he helped Fae into the tub.

He got down on his knees and went to work cleaning her off. He gently washed her off and after each pass of the sponge, he would press his lips into her wet flesh. Fae felt an instant jolt of arousal. She couldn’t control the pleasant tingling between her legs when he washed her there with a rag. She gripped his wrist and they locked eyes. Even with a bruised face and scared lip, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Fae’s hand covered Erik’s and she guided his fingers lower. He got the hint and sat the rag on the edge of the tub. Two thick fingers found her entrance and pushed inside. Fae gasped, Erik muting her noises with his lips. Fae gripped the edge of the tub and fell back so that she could tilt her hips for deeper access.

Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her. Fae pressed her face into his arm and nibbled on his skin. Erik could see her juices and feel how creamy her pussy is for him. Her nipples were rock hard and making Erik’s mouth water.

“Erik…”

She squeezed her thighs together and the water sloshed as her body moved back and forth with her climax. She exhaled an airy breath and her walls convulsed around his fingers. Erik slipped his fingers out and sucked them clean. He let the water out and helped Fae to her feet. Erik grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Back in the room, he sat her down on his bed and proceeded to rub her body down with a soothing and calming body oil scented with a sweet aroma of vanilla combined with a surprising touch of lemon.

“Killmonger.” Fae spoke.

Erik chuckled while massaging her body with the oil, “That’s my nickname.”

“Why Killmonger? I mean, I know you’re a killer…”

“…I earned the nickname from the amount of kills I racked up. It was so impressive that they had to give me a nickname for it…”

“Okay,” Fae giggled, “I like it…it’s sexy.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his locs.

“Hmm, really?” His dimples popped out while trying to hide his blush, “I’m glad you think so.”

Fae rolled her eyes, “I mean…it’s fitting…”

“Fitting for what else?” Erik looked down at her while massaging her feet.

“…with the way you kill this pussy—”

“Huh? What was that, Miss Fae? I couldn’t hear you.” Erik teased.

“I said, with the way you kill this pussy…”

Erik bowed his head and laughed. When he finished, He dressed Fae in an old graphic T-shirt of Jimi Hendrix and he excused himself to take a shower. Fae used that opportunity to go see Deuce. The last time she’d seen her dog was before she left for work that morning. Fae walked out barefoot with her frizzy and loose braids up in a bun. Her scalp felt so tender and sore. She found Deuce and Diesel both lying in Erik’s office. Deuce ran up to her as Fae got down on her knees. Up on his hind legs, Fae hugged him and couldn’t help but to cry.

Sean could have killed Deuce. She was so happy that he was safe. She was so happy that she didn’t die and she could come home to her boy. Diesel rubbed his head against her and Fae gave him a hug too. She smiled brightly at both of them and couldn’t help but to giggle. I guess that means Diesel was her dog now too.

Fae stood up and walked around Erik’s office. Her curious eyes moved about the room, taking it all in with a new perspective. Sure, he was in Special Ops and she understood that killing people came with the job, but it felt different knowing that he’s a Hitman. Fae skimmed her fingers over his books when Erik appeared. He was oiled down himself and wearing a pair of all black ball shorts.

“I came to see the boys and I started snooping around. I know, I’m pryjng,” Fae tucked her chin bashfully.

“It’s okay. You’re curious.” Erik said.

“It just seems so…mysterious…”

Erik walked up behind Fae and pressed his lips against her exposed neck.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

That made Fae feel good knowing that. She turned to him and Erik’s lips were on hers. They tongue kissed while their hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. Erik had his hands full of Fae’s ass and he backed out of his office. They walked backwards into his room and Erik slammed the door shut to keep the boys out. With only a single lamp light on, it gave off the perfect vibe.

Erik sat down on the edge of the bed with Fae between his legs. She cupped his face while they continued to kiss. Their heads moved back and forth and their tongues reached crevices that elicited sounds of pleasure. Fae needed him. She didn’t care that her body was sore, she needed him inside of her. Erik did too, his dick was brick hard and tenting the front of his shorts.

Fae broke the kiss and she lifted his T-shirt over her head, naked body the perfect shape in Erik’s eyes with the softest skin that glistened similar to honey. Fae took her place in his lap with her pussy sitting directly over his clothed erection. Erik couldn’t get over how soft and smooth her skin felt beneath his calloused hands.

His lips kissed her neck, her collarbones, and between her breasts. He tilted Fae’s body back and her breasts were pushed out towards his mouth. He sucked each dark brown nipple into his mouth and flicked them greedily with his thick tongue. Fae arched her back and gripped Erik’s shoulders tight when he started humping her from underneath.

“Unh….”

Fae’s moans sounded angelic.

Erik pressed his face between her breasts and grunted. His dick was twitching between her pussy lips.

“Fuck…I need you,” Erik whispered.

“I need you too…”

Fae dug her fingers into Erik’s shorts and they wrapped around his fat dick. She whipped it out and lifted her hips while her hand pointed his tip towards her opening. Erik exhaled a longing breath. She sat down on him fully and Erik bounced her.

“Fuck…fuck…” Erik was staring up at Fae through hooded eyes, “I missed this pussy…”

“Mm!” Fae’s mouth fell open, “Mmm!”

Her moans were driving him crazy.

“Mm! Mm! Unh! Uh! Ooo!”

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” Erik praises.

He secured one arm around her waist, sliding his hips lower so he could plant his feet on the floor, and he pumped upward while simultaneously bouncing Fae, bringing her down on his dick himself. She had a death grip on Erik’s shoulders. She was so small and limber while Erik’s much larger and more powerful body controlled her movements.

“Ahhhh, ahhhhh…” Erik couldn’t hold back from making his own noises, “That’s it baby…let me do all the work…”

“Oh gosh,” Fae moaned, “Yes!”

“I’m deep and I ain’t leaving, baby,” Erik groaned, “Mhm…too much big dick?”

“No,” Fae said with a whiny voice.

“That’s my good girl…”

She came on his dick and Erik raised his hips to the bed again. He lifted her off of his dick and got down on his knees. He started eating Fae’s pussy while she was standing up. She couldn’t believe it. He hiked her thigh up and proceeded to suck on her pussy while his other hand fisted his dick.

“Shit,” Fae wrapped her fingers around his locs, “Mmm!”

Fae’s leg shook out of control and she fell forward against the bed. Erik’s hand smacked her on the ass and she positioned herself so that she was hanging over the edge of the bed. Erik turned and started eating it from the back. Fae rocked her hips back and forth, feeding her pussy to his plump lips and thick tongue. Erik spread her cheeks as best as he could so he could get every inch of that pretty, pink puss in his mouth. He was sucking that shit off the bone and Fae was losing her sanity.

“Daddy, please don’t stop,” Fae moaned weakly.

He slurped her pussy, put his tongue in that pussy, sucked on that clit, tongued her folds. Fae was drooling into the sheets.

“OH FUCK!”

She bit down on her bottom lip, the pain from her scar mixed with the pleasure of getting her pussy devoured giving her a big orgasm. She convulsed and released into Erik’s waiting, gluttonous mouth.

He sat up and Fae turned her body. Erik was on his feet and with his lustful eyes watching her, he took off his shorts, revealing his fat dick and balls. It was so hard that the veins in his shaft popped out. His tip is covered in pre-cum and dying to be sucked on. Fae arched her back and grabbed his dick. She looked up at him and wrapped her lips around him.

She took her time putting him down her throat. It’s a big boy. Erik’s humming and grunting caused her clit to jump. It was thick enough to make her jaw muscles sore and long enough to trigger her gag reflex.

“There you go…good girl…such a good girl,” Erik tilted his head so he could watch, “Get daddy’s dick in there, baby…”

She started sucking him while tugging on his sack. Erik’s brows furrowed and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eye rolled shut and his head went back. All Fae could see was his beautifully-sculpted body and the long swath of his neck.

“Just like that…look at you…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

Erik groaned when Fae focused on slurping his wide tip between her lips. She knew that’s what he liked. He loved it when she did it nice and slow. Her spit rolled down her chin and she looked into his eyes while sucking. That’s what did it.

“Fae…”

She loved it when he said her name.

“Fae…”

Keep saying my name.

“Damn, here it comes—”

Fae swallowed him whole. She tightened her throat and milked him while the tip of her tongue wiggled in his slit. Thick, warm, nut coated her tongue. She slowly released his dick from her mouth and it popped out covered in spit. Erik stuck his tongue down her throat with his fingers around her neck to control the flow. Fae sucked on his bottom lip like a pacifier.

“I’m gon’ fuck you all over this bed,” Erik said with a husky voice barely above a whisper, “And your ass gon’ take it every single time…”

“I need it, big daddy,” Fae whispered seductively.

Erik raised a single brow at her.

“I can handle it,” Fae spoke confidently with a smirk.

Erik picked her up and put her ass on the edge of his dresser.

“You can handle it, huh? Yeah?” Erik plopped his dick down on her pussy and guided his hips so his dick could glide up and down between her fat, outer lips.

“Yes,” Fae moaned.

“Your pussy is wet and gushy, mamas…”

He hooked his arms beneath her knees and with his hips, he thrust forward and his tip slipped between her labia and popped right into that wet pussy. He pressed further inside until he was halfway in before retracting his hips slowly, only to thrust back inside again.

“Fuck,” Fae gasped when Erik twisted her hips, “Mmm!”

She gripped the edge of the dresser with one hand while the other wrapped around Erik’s neck. His crotch and lower abdomen collided with Fae’s inner thighs and it stung so good.

“Daddy, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Mhm…I know it is, look at this dick.”

Fae tried to watch but he was digging her out so good she couldn’t focus.

“Oooo…I know whatchu finna do, pretty mama…daddy making that pussy cum, I know it.”

“I can’t control it, daddy—”

Fae’s pussy pushed Erik’s dick out and she rubbed her clit back and forth, her juices like a fountain.

“So that’s what I gotta do to make that pussy squirt like that?”

Erik crouched down to lick it up. Fae couldn’t control her legs from squirming and shaking. Erik needed to make her do that again. He moved her to the bed and parted Fae’s legs with his hands on the back of her thighs. Erik got up on that bed, dug his toes into the mattress, and started grinding his hips so that his dick could hit her spot. Each time he would thrust, his hips would grind, making his fat dick hit her spot.

“Oooo!” Fae started crying, “I’m gonna squirt again!”

“That’s what I want, give me that shit,” Erik commanded.

“It’s all for you!”

That was music to Erik’s ears. Fae looked up at him and he had his bottom lip between his teeth and a smirk on his face. She was falling apart beneath him and he just fucked her like that with a dimpled smirk and a big dick. He was dangerous.

“My pussy, daddy!”

Fae’s eyes crossed and Erik was pushed out once again. It just kept going. He beat her clit with his tip and she just covered him and the sheets.

“Dayum, you’re my little waterfall for real, fuck. I love it when you make a mess on me…”

“It’s so much, I’m sorry,” Fae shielded her face with her arm to hide her blush.

“Don’t be sorry about what that pussy can do, baby…”

He had his mouth on her pussy again. Fae was growing lightheaded. Erik looked up at her through his lashes and licked his lips.

“You okay?” He questioned.

“Mhm,” Fae replied.

Erik gave her a moment to catch her breath and then he sat up in the middle of the bed. He made a come-hither motion with his fingers and a bite of his lip and Fae crawled to him. She straddled him and Erik lined his dick up with that beautiful pussy again for more. Fae sank down on him fully until her ass was sitting on his balls. Erik dropped his thighs out and leaned back on one hand. He rolled his hips up slowly and fae rolled her hips down on him. Her hands were on his shoulders and she was looking down at him from above. They were locked in a sensual gaze.

“Tell me you love me.” Erik whispered.

“I love you,” Fae whispered back.

“Say it again.”

“I love you…”

Erik hooked his arms beneath her armpits and gripped her shoulders from behind. Fae cupped his face and they kissed passionately. Erik broke the kiss and his tongue licked along Fae’s jaw. He dug his heels into the bed and surprised Fae with sharp upstrokes with his hands planted on the bed. She was squirting again.

“UNH! UNH! UNH!”

It was ball-slapping strokes. Erik lowered his hips back to the bed and his dick slipped out with ease. He shook his locs from his eyes and lifted from the bed.

“C’mere…bring that pussy here.”

Fae took one look at that dick and she whimpered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll l be back in there. Arch that back.”

She did as she was told. Erik nibbled and kissed all over her ass. He put a humb in her butt and his dick deep in her pussy from the back. Fae’s hips bounced off of him causing her cheeks to turn red.

“Go head, cry into the sheets, tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels so good!”

“You taking it, mamas. Just watching you take this dick makes me so hard.”

“Yes, daddy!” Fae moaned.

“Don’t stop taking this dick…don’t stop taking this dick…”

Fae turned her head back and forth, she fisted the sheets, she cried out. Erik would speed up, then slow down. Bring her to the peek, then edge her.

“Can I cum daddy?! Please?! Can I cum, please?!”

“Cum on this dick right fuckin’ now.”

“Unh—ahhh!”

It was creamy and slippery. Erik watched with his bottom lip pouted and gold slugs gleaming. That pussy was hot and tight.

“Daddy, I feel you throbbing inside me!”

“Yeah?” Erik growled, “SHIT—”

“YES! Right there—”

“UGH!”

Erik gripped her waist for leverage and he withdrew his hips. Fae spun around quickly and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Erik held her gaze through his locs and his mouth formed an ‘O’ while he jerked himself. His cum shot out like a spider’s web. It covered Fae’s face and tongue. Erik couldn’t believe how much it was. Fae cleaned off as much as she could and then Erik left to grab a wet rag.

He returned and cleaned Fae off. They both went to the bathroom and after using the toilet, took a shower together. Fae let Erik fuck her up against the shower wall with her chest pressed against it. She reached behind her to hold onto his thigh while he took that pussy from behind. He slipped out and Fae got down on her knees again to clean him off. They were both satisfied.

When they were done, they both rubbed eachother down with the oil again and stood at his sink to tend to their scars. Fae sat on the sink and Erik took his time tending to her. She did the same for him, it was mostly his knuckles. It was so intimate.

Teeth brushed, Erik put a towel down on the bed to cover Fae’s mess and snuggled together beneath the sheets. Fae rested her head on Erik’s chest with one arm draped across his torso. Erik stared up at the ceiling while playing in her hair.

“I love you, Fae. I mean it.”

Fae sat up and looked up at Erik through her lashes.

“I know you do. I love you too.”

Erik shut his eyes and smirked. Fae caressed his thick lips with her fingertips. Erik caught them between his lips causing Fae to giggle.

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @bellleame @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodicheauxxlovesfood @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @90sisthenew80s @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah @queenfaithmarie @soulfulbeauty19 @asweet-serendipity @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako@coolfancyone @soulsparker @d3kstar @richgirlaesthetics @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @beautybyfire @abluesforlyssa @xo-goldengirl @mbakuetshurisprincess @4ftwonder @raysunshine78 @sensitivelegend @sourbabynaee @gotbeefbitch-blog @cool-fancyone @efonteno @akimi-youngblood @badassdoll @shyblackgurl @childishgambinaax @teheeboo @skylahb @gigafaex @readingaddict1290 @circeaphoenix @xsweetdellzx @carewornblackgirl @queengodiva619 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @seyven89 @jamaicanqueenaa

[gigiswhore]

↳ “such a pretty girl.” || op sanji fic

╴sanji never understood why you were too embarrassed to take charge when riding him. it was cute to him but he heard that you wanted to try it and so he let you.

╴word count: 1.2k

╴pairing/dynamic: top!sanji and powerbottom!reader

╴content warning: use of fem prns, made with afab body in mind, smut, sweet sanji, insecureish reader, grinding lead by reader, riding which is lead by ji, praise from sanji, slight dumbification, little bit of begging, slight cussing

╴requested: no but it’s self indulgent 😝

╴a/n: hopefully this will makeup for my wack ass luffy smut 😭😭. keep in mind english isn’t my first language so if there’s any grammar issues apologies. overall, ENJOY!! Btw i wrote this in an hour and didn’t feel like rereading 😭

↳ SANJI (my everything)

"Ji, I'm scared that I'll disappoint you if I take charge." You said it in a low, whisper-like tone, trying your best to avoid your lover's eye contact.

"Y/N, you could never disappoint me! "I'm just happy you thought about coming out of your comfort zone. No matter what, I'll always stand behind what you want." Sanji said with a smile on his face that he was trying his best to comfort you because he knew you get insecure over these types of things.

"Do you really mean that? Even if it’s bad, you wouldn’t be disappointed?" You picked up your head, staring directly at him like a puppy waiting for their owner's approval.

"Of course I mean it. You’re mon amor, so anything you do would never be bad," Sanji said with a cheeky smile, meaning every word he said.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally decide that maybe trying to take over wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you haven’t wanted to try it.

"Ji, I think I want to try that if it’s okay with you." You say you're a bit embarrassed by what just came out of your mouth.

"Go ahead, babe." Sanji just smirked at you, walking over to your shared bed and sitting down.

After a few seconds, you decide to join him. pushing him down, taking his clothes off while he took off yours.

You stare at your love in admiration; everything about him is just so pretty, especially his pretty dick that your mouth is already watering for.

After unconsciously staring at him for a bit, you decide it’s time to step out of your comfort zone.

You straddled him, slowly picking yourself up so your bare pussycat could grind on his big cock. You go back and forth in slow motion, watching as Sanji groans from it.

"Mmm, that’s it, baby." He said in a low tone that even if it was just simple grinding to you, to him it was a lot more than that because you were showing yourself you could take charge, and that just made him feel more pleasure.

You continue to go back and forth a couple more times. You were a moaning mess when you saw how Sanji’s dick just reacted to your slick; you honestly couldn’t wait any longer to have his dick inside of you, so you decided it was time.

You stop your motions, watching how Sanji groaned from the sudden loss of friction.

"B-babe, you should've warned me about stopping." Sanji said playfully.

You just smiled at him, moving his hands to your bare back so he could help lift you up so you'd be able to position yourself on Sanji’s cock properly.

"f-fuck." You say you're going down on his cock; you can feel him inside you, and for some reason your pussycle clenched around it.

"Your cunt really loves my dick, huh?" He says it teasingly, slowly smirking at you in the process.

"M-mhm!" is the only sound you can let out before you’re lifting yourself off his cock and right back down to his base.

The more times you tried to find the perfect spot, speed, angle, and rhythm, the more your legs trembled from it. You weren’t used to having to find your own pleasure spot yourself, but you knew you could do it.

After a few minutes of trying to find it, you did. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the sudden contact between the spot and your cock. You couldn’t help but drool a bit as you continued to fuck yourself in that exact same spot.

Sanji smirked as he noticed you had found your spot. The more you squeezed around his cock like you were, the more he just wanted to thrust right into you, but he decided against it.

Instead, he needed something to take his mind off of it, and that was your perky nips.

Sanji loves every body part of yours equally, but when he sees how your pretty tits react to him, he can’t help but tease them a bit.

He slightly pulls and rubs them, making sure your nips are equally taken care of.

Sanji gets pulled out of whatever he was thinking about when he hears your cute little fucked-out voice.

"Mmm.. ji’ feel too good." You're babbling a bit too much, lost in your own pleasure.

"You’re doing really well, love." Sanji praised the feeling that you're close from the way you’re clenching him.

You could feel your legs giving out from his praise and your hard work. You didn’t want this to stop, so you looked at him with pleading eyes.

Sanji decided to ignore those eyes as he told you, "Pretty girls gotta beg for it, so beg."

That’s all it took for you to beg, "Fuck m', please.. too hard for m'. I want your cock bad."

He coos at you, thinking how it was so easy to get you to beg for it, and that’s when he decided to help you out.

He places his hands on your hips, moving you back and forth along his cock.

"Gotta get off on my cock? I know you can." Sanji says to fasten the pace between the thrusts. "

"Yeah.. m’ gonna cum soon." You say in babbles once again to be lost in your own ecstasy.

after a few more seconds of the insane amount of pleasure you feel.

That final clench from your pussy was all it took for Sanji to cum as well.

filled with sanjis cum, you stay on top of him for a bit. slowly calming your body down.

After calming down, you try to get off of him, but Sanji just whispers in your ear, "Not so fast, pretty, we aren’t done yet. I still gotta fuck my pretty girl."

Your face flushed at his words, but then you nodded. I mean you wanted to be fucked, but what you didn’t expect was for Sanji to give you a thrust, forcing his cum to go further into your tight pussy while hitting your cervix.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure. "See, we’re just getting��� started?" he says seductively into your ear.

© gigislesbo on tumblr !!

a/n: hope you enjoyed.

[decentwritings]

Chapter 5

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

"Aww, man," you whine, crossing your arms over your chest childishly. "I missed a surveillance op?"

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed, while Tara finds your words amusing.

You all gather in your sister's home, in the kitchen where there's less mess. You sat on the floor, entertaining Blackie while Remy betrays you, choosing Tara over you. You offered the idea to discuss a few things in the home, wanting to give the sisters some puppy time. They say dogs help relieve stress, and these two do a good job of it for you. You figure they could help relieve a little of the stress before you go kill some psychos.

"How did you guys know it was me they were after?" You pat the German Shepherd's head, snapping your fingers and pointing down. He sits and pants in front of you. "Dude, go entertain the tall one, you're drooling on me," you point at Sam.

Blackie whines, glancing at Sam. Sam stares back at him, eyebrow arching. He saunters over to Sam and lifts his paw onto her knee. She rolls her eyes, but you and Danny don't miss the smile on her face as she kneels down to pet him.

"We waited for him to call us," Tara explains, smiling down at the pitbull, rubbing his belly. "But he knew we were expecting his call."

"He said he was visiting the suburbs," Sam continues, both hands holding the dog's face. She shakes his head in her hands gently and the puppy pants happily. "Then he tried to confuse us, telling us there was an old friend he needed to see first."

You raise a brow, looking over at Danny for help. He shrugs, just confused as you are.

"When he hung up, Kirby tracked his phone to two different locations." Tara explains, brushing her fingers on the top of Remy's head. The dog lays on Tara's lap, trying his best to fight off the sleep she's lulling him into. "Here and Gale's apartment."

"There are two!" you exclaim, almost giddily, because you were right.

"No," Sam deadpans, your smile dropping. "Gale just got a call. She's okay. Mindy, Chad and Ethan are with her now."

"Ethan?" you ask incredulously.

"His alibi checked out," Tara informs you and you huff again. "Anyway, we drove here as fast as we could. We used the sirens," she grins, amused by your reaction.

You groan, throwing your head back. "Aww, man, you guys drove a police car?" Tara nods, laughing at your reaction.

"This doesn't make sense," Danny speaks up, ending the intense eye contact you and Tara were having. "Why did he go after you? No offense, but you don't really have that much of a role in the recreation of their supposed movie."

"Offense taken," you comment before Sam intervenes.

"It could be you have some sort of connection to the originals..." Sam offers an idea, standing up, leaving Blackie to lay down with a whine.

"Uhh, no," you draw out, shaking your head. "My family's boring. The only interesting we have ever gotten into was them losing me at DisneyWorld," you point at Danny to verify.

Danny chuckles at the memory. "Oh yeah," he shakes his head. "Their mom nearly got them to shut the entire park down. Turns out, they were at the teacup ride just riding it over and over."

You smile, proud. "I broke the record for the most rides in a single day," you frown suddenly. "I also got my ass whooped when we got home."

"Maybe it's not about your past all," Sam crosses her arms, pondering the reason. She arches a brow at you. "Maybe you pissed them off, you have done nothing but annoy them."

Danny laughs. "It's second nature," he sends you a pointed glare.

"I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable!" You defend, lifting your hands up in mock surrender. Suddenly, you gasp, earning confused glares. "That's who Gale looks like of. Monica!"

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose again.

Sam ignores your words. "Or maybe it could be your friendship with Tara," she glances at her sister, who sends her a warning glare. "We don't know how long he's been watching us, Tara." She explains.

You furrow your brows. "I got here during summer semester," you say, confused by Sam's words. "I got stuck with Anika as a roommate because I didn't want to stay with my sister and Danny doesn't have a spare room."

"I offered you my spare room," Danny retorts. "But you didn't want to pay rent."

You wave him off. "I didn't really meet Tara until..." you tilt your head, unsure. You look over at the girl, sending her apologetic look. "We didn't meet until the party, so I don't think friendship is the right word."

Sam notices the way her sister's entire demeanor changes. Her sister avoids eye contact, clearly affected by your words.

Remy lifts his head up, snarling at you. You lift your hands up, glaring back at the dog. "What did I do?" You narrow your eyes at him.

Tara smiles again, petting the dog gently from head to tail. He wags his tail and nuzzles his face back down into her lap.

"We met at the bookstore," Tara finally speaks, drawing your attention away from the dog. "I overheard you talking to yourself about the prices of pencils being high."

You don't recall. Summer was...it was a blur. It was a summer full of airplane rides to Atlanta and back. Your dad's health was deteriorating and you actively searched for reasons to not be there to see it.

There's a sudden shift in the room, a tension that becomes noticeable only to Danny. He can see your expression change from confusion to sadness in seconds. It's then Remy stands to push his nose against your lap, pleading for you to give him space to let him be with you.

"Um," you clear your throat, unsure of where the knot came from. "GhostFace brought up my...habit of running. It's what I did this summer."

"He usually attacks emotionally first," Sam says, understanding.

"The thing is, no one knows but my family," you look at her, trying to piece together this whole thing. "My dad died last month," you finally say it out loud, but tears don't form in your eyes.

Danny feels Sam's eyes on him, but he keeps his eyes trained on you, ready to console you if you need it.

The day you got the call from your mom, you recall having plans with Anika to meet her friends. She wanted you to meet her girlfriend only, it was to show her girlfriend she didn't have to worry about you. But Mindy came with a package, her twin and Tara. And with her twin, Ethan.

You faintly remember being annoyed by their laughter. The group's loud way of communicating. The stare Ethan had on you when he thought you weren't looking.

"So, Y/N–" Tara tried to get you to join the conversation. But you're too out of it to notice.

You stood up. "I gotta go," you ran then too. You went MIA for a week before the funeral, and you only showed up to give your mom the cash you got when you sold your car.

Tara's expression softens as she listens, her fingers continuing to stroke Remy's fur, the dog returning to nestle in her lap. There's a heavy silence, one that feels loaded with the weight of what you've just revealed. Even though you've held the tears at bay, the grief is there—raw, and unspoken. You've tried running from these feelings and clearly its caught up to you.

"I'm sorry," Tara says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You give a small shrug, your eyes fixed on the floor. "It's... whatever," you mutter, but the strain in your voice betrays your attempt at indifference. "I wasn't even there when it happened," you add, and that's when the guilt hits, almost visible in the way you hunch your shoulders slightly.

Sam steps forward, her arms uncrossing. "GhostFace knows things," she says, her tone serious. "Things he shouldn't."

Blackie pushes your arms and plops down on your lap, the strongest one between the two puppies. You got this guy when he was just six weeks old; his previous owners pieces of shits so you rescued him from them. You gifted him to your sister and her husband when you moved in with them; and that was only so they could allow him to move in with you.

He favored you more than Remy did. He knew you inside out, probably better than you knew yourself. But never more than your dad.

Your dad did train him for the first six months of his life though. Maybe he picked up on a few things.

You stare at the German Shepherd, and he feels you staring so his eyes glance up at you. A soft smile crosses your lips, patting his head gently.

Your brows furrow then, and you finally meet her eyes. "But how? No one but family knew. And it's not like I broadcasted my family stuff."

"That's what's bothering me," Sam says, her gaze narrowing in thought. "It's almost like someone close to you told him."

"Impossible, I don't have friends," you comment, half-joking, but the weight of it lingers.

"Or they've been watching for a lot longer than we thought," Sam offers another idea.

"Nope," you dismiss that idea as well. "I'm paranoid. I am always on guard and question everyone's intentions."

Danny's voice breaks the tension. "You had a full conversation with a homeless man last week," he deadpans.

You chuckle at the memory. "Yeah. He was nice." You defend Lionel, the homeless man. He was nice.

But Tara isn't laughing. She sits up a little straighter, her eyes flicking between you and Sam as she pieces something together. "What if they weren't just after you because of me or the others? What if it's because they want to break you down—push you to run again?"

A knot twists in your stomach, and you feel the gravity of Tara's words sink in. "Why would they care about me running?"

"Because it's what you do, right?" Danny interjects, his voice steady but sympathetic. "You run when things get tough, but maybe this time, they want to control when and where you go. They're using your fear against you."

It hits you like a punch in the gut. "I'm ruining his plan," you finally realize, your voice quiet but firm. Danny's eyes lock with yours, and you can see the recognition in his expression. "He wants me to run because I'm ruining his plan. The plot. The whole thesis or whatever film jargon Mindy would use. I'm not the hero—I'm the fucking cock block... in theory." You finish, unsure of the term but knowing you're onto something.

The room falls silent, your revelation weighing heavily in the air. Sam's eyes flick between you and Tara, while Danny's gaze remains fixed on you, understanding dawning in his expression. It's as if the pieces are finally starting to fall into place.

"You...may be right," Danny says slowly, his voice measured. "You're not following their script, the role you took on by happening upon it. They want you to run, because you happened on this whole ordeal. You weren't suppose to go to the party, you weren't suppose to be at Sam's place when he went to attack."

"Nope. I was forced to go both times," you explain, laughing gently. "Dumbass. Everyone knows you need a backup plan."

Sam's brow furrows, arms crossed as she paces a bit. "So, he doesn't want you to be the hero... and he wants to get rid of you." She stops in her tracks, thinking aloud. "And if they couldn't get you to leave, he was going to rid of you his own way."

Tara shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting between you and her sister.

"And they failed." You say triumphantly.

"Who knows what else you ruined in their plan?" Tara shrugs.

Sam narrows her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe Quinn wasn't the only planned killing for that night."

You shift uneasily, the gravity of the situation settling in. "So, what? I just stick around and hope I don't mess things up even more? Hoping it doesn't get me killed in the process."

Danny lets out a humorless chuckle. "Or you stay and mess things up in his plan instead."

You look at him, confused, and a little insulted.

"You told me what Mindy said," Danny continues. "You're the wild card. You're not playing by the rules, and that's exactly why he's targeting you. If you run, you make it easier for him. But if you stay—"

"I ruin his movie," you finish for him, your voice more confident now.

Sam gives a small nod, her expression hardening. "And if we know anything about GhostFace, it's that he hates when things don't go his way."

Tara smiles faintly, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "We've got an advantage now. We know what he wants you to do—and we're going to make sure you don't do it.

With a head shake and smile, you say instead, "Or maybe I do..do it," you couldn't help but giggle at your words. Danny shakes his head in disbelief, but chuckles as well. When you see Tara frown, you shake your head and stand carefully, making sure not to bother any of the sleeping dogs. "We make the idiot think I did run..." you look at Sam, hoping she gets where you're going.

Sam's eyes narrow, her arms still crossed as she processes your words. Slowly, a grin tugs at the corner of her lips. "You want to bait him," she says, her voice low with understanding. "Make GhostFace think you're running—play into his narrative."

"Exactly," you say, pointing at her, feeling the adrenaline start to course through your veins. "We make him think I'm doing what he expects, what he wants."

Danny raises an eyebrow, catching on. "We make him think you run, but really, you're leading him right into a trap."

Tara's frown fades, replaced with curiosity. "That could work," she murmurs, glancing at Sam. "If he thinks he's controlling the situation, he'll get overconfident, make mistakes."

Sam nods, her mind already racing through the logistics. "We'll need to set it up carefully. Make it believable."

"But tell no one," you say, looking between them all. "We can't risk anyone listening and it getting back to him somehow. Mindy, Chad, Kirby, Quinn's dad and definitely not Ethan." You emphasize.

Tara laughs quietly, shaking her head.

"Fine," Sam steps forward, and everyone follows. "We know the plan..."

"Oh, Captain America speech," you bounce on your feet excitedly. You purse your lips when you receive deadpan glares.

"We know our roles," Sam continues, glancing at each of you. "We make him regret ever trying to write any of us into his twisted movie."

You rest your hands on your hips, a proud smile forming on your lips. It radiates, drawing their attention to you. You shrug. "I just..." you smile, feeling more determined than ever. "I've spent my whole life running away from things. I think it's about time I run toward something—toward ending this for you guys."

Danny pats your shoulder gently, his grip reassuring. He's proud of you and your smile only widens at that.

Tara steps closer, her gaze soft but resolute. "Thanks for doing this," she looks over at her sister, her eyes full of gratitude before locking back on you. "For staying."

Danny and Sam share a look, feeling the clear attraction between you and Tara.

"So," Danny clears his throat, breaking the moment with a knowing smile. "The plan?"

You blink a few times, getting out of stupor. "Right..." you glance at your cousin, Sam then Tara. You feel caught so you hurry to move on. "We trap him, but we're gonna need all the help we can get.."

\\\\\

You know a plan is good when you start to believe it's bad.

"You know, the more we talk about it," you begin, pacing back and forth in front of them. "The more appealing it sounds." You chew your nail, a nervous habit you know you'd get reprimanded for if your siblings or parents were around.

The group sits in Gale's apartment building's lobby, being called over by the twins. They explained the need of wanting to end this. Chad told Sam of Mindy's worries of this ending worse than before. So Sam suggested they join them, hoping to console Mindy with their presence. She knows the twin worries when they are too far apart during situations like this.

Danny arches a brow. "What does?"

You clear your throat, coming to a stop by the door. "My mom called me," you say, avoiding their stares and keeping your eyes on Danny. "She wants me to come home. Even my brother said I should leave, and he's the one who convinced me and my sister to go to New York in the first place. So maybe I should...go back home." Your words come out reluctantly, because you're starting to mean them.

Danny glances at the others, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "Wait... you're serious."

You nod, playing into the part. "Yeah. Maybe it's time I listen to them." You shift your weight, making your hesitation believable.

Mindy stands abruptly, her voice rising. "Woah, hold up," she steps closer, shaking her head. "You can't just leave. You're part of this now—our hero!" Her tone is pleading, eyes wide with disbelief.

You shrug off her words, refusing to meet her gaze. "I'm no hero, Mindy. I'm just some idiot who stuck around too long. Like a bug stuck to a car's grill." You glare, directing the frustration outward, glancing at Chad and Ethan sitting nearby. Ethan looks back at you with that same innocent expression that's always unsettling.

With a huff, you shake your head and turn toward the door.

"GhostFace or not," you say sharply, turning back to face the room. "Maybe staying in New York was the wrong choice from the start. There isn't anything for me here, anyway."

The room falls silent for a moment, your words hanging in the air like a weight. Tara shifts uncomfortably, glancing between you and Sam. Danny looks torn, as if he wants to say something but is holding back.

"You can't just leave," Chad finally speaks up, breaking the silence. His voice is quiet, uncertain. "I mean, come on, you're part of this now. We need you."

"Need me?" you scoff, incredulous and bewildered at his words. "So he can kill me while you all survive again? No thanks."

Danny clenches his jaw, your words surprising him. "Y/N, relax. No one is dying-"

"He's tried to kill me twice," your voice raises, frustrated and exhausted. You feel Tara's sad eyes on you and it takes every ounce of will power you have not to look at her. "That's twice too many. And they say third's time the charm? Yeah, no, I'm not giving him the chance."

Ethan watches you, his gaze intense, but he says nothing. His expression is hard to read, but you don't let it throw you off. Not now.

"My family's suffered one loss already," you say, stunning Danny into silence. "I'm not going to put through another." Your words hit hard, firm and serious.

You mean it, Danny can tell. You're not acting on the role you told them you'd take on.

Mindy steps forward, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. "This isn't just about you! If you run, you give GhostFace exactly what he wants. He'll pick us off one by one if you're not here."

You look at her, then your gaze travels to your roommate sitting right behind her. You managed to grow a friendship with Anika, she has been nothing but nice to you. But this isn't about you, it was never suppose to be about you. This is their story, with an ending they can deal with.

"It was nice meeting you all," you say as you take tentative steps back towards the door. You don't miss the disappointed looks on their faces. "Really. I'm sure if the circumstances were different, we would be great friends. But, god, I hope I never see you guys again."

You say, final, turning on your heels, making your exit.

Danny looks down, ashamed.

Chad looks at the door, hoping you changed your mind. Minutes tick by, nothing but silence surrounds them. That and a few lingering policemen, making sure GhostFace didn't linger behind, hiding somewhere.

With no sight of you returning, Chad turns to the group. "What do we do?"

Sam looks at her friends, their fright obvious and palpable.

"Maybe he wins this time," she says softly.

Ethan leans forward where he's sat, an exasperated look on his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

Sam stands, looking at them all. "This was never suppose to involve any of you," she sighs, the sad look on her sister's face hurting her the most. "I roped you guys into this. He wants to punish me... Me. Maybe I let him."

"You want to give up?" Mindy asks, some disgust lingers in her tone.

"Everyone thinks I'm this terrible person. Maybe they're right." Sam says, then looks at Tara again. "You said it. It's not like I have a plan for my life anyway. If this is what I need to do to keep you all safe... then it's worth it."

Tara's expressions changes at her sister's words. "No." She snarls, getting on her feet. "Fuck that. You came back to Woodsboro to protect me. And you've been protecting me ever since. We're all still alive because of you."

"And Y/N," Ethan adds, earning glares from everyone.

"They aren't here anymore, you don't have to kiss their ass," Anika glares at him. He cowers down where he's sat.

With a deep breath, Tara takes her sister's hands. "Maybe it's time you let us protect you. We're a team, remember?"

Sam's eyes soften as she looks at her sister, Tara's words slowly cutting through the guilt and exhaustion she's been carrying. For a moment, the tension between them breaks, and the weight on Sam's shoulders seems to lighten, just a little.

Tara tightens her grip on Sam's hands, her voice stronger now. "You're not in this alone anymore, Sam. None of us are. We can't just give up and let him win."

Mindy steps up. "We're a family."

Chad brightens. "Hell yeah! Core four!"

Danny tilts his head in confusion, but doesn't comment on it.

Sam crosses her arms. "He's going to keep coming for us."

Ethan shakes his head. "I think Y/N had the right idea," he speaks up, capturing their attention. "Can't we just hole up somewhere safe?"

Anika looks at him in disgust. "Ugh, god, I hope you are GhostFace so you die at the end," she grumbles under her breath. Ethan stares back at her with wide eyes.

Mindy laughs but gets a shove from Chad. "Oh," she mumbles, clearing her throat. "Anika." she tries her best to sound authoritative.

Tara gives Ethan a pointed look. "And hiding won't solve anything. He'll just find us, like he always does..." she trails off, coming to a realization as soon as the words come out of her mouth. "I have an idea. Chad, give me your phone," she orders without an explanation.

Chad does as he's told, handing his phone over to the short girl. She does a quick dial of the number and soon, the man picks up. Tara explains the plan to the detective, who doesn't seem at all convinced or sure of it. She doesn't bother on insisting him to liking the plan, just wants to know if he wants to be apart of it.

"Are you gonna help us?" Tara asks once she's done with her explanation.

"Yes," Bailey relents with a sigh, glancing around his surroundings. "I'm stuck here, but Gale gave us the keycards to the theater; it has heavy security and surveillance cameras, we can use that against him. I'll get Kirby to meet you there and join you as soon as I can."

Tara glances at Danny, who wandered off to make a phone call. She can see him actually frustrated, and she can't even guess what about.

"Travel in public," Bailey pulls her out of stupor. "Remember, the more people around you, the less of a chance he can take a shot at you before you get here."

The walk to the subway is unnervingly quiet, tension settling like a fog over the group. Sam walks beside her sister, hyper-aware of their surroundings. She's ready for anything, but the weight of the plan lingers heavily on her mind. Trusting Bailey and Kirby felt like a gamble, but it was the only option they had. She steals glances at the others as they walk in an uneasy silence—each of them lost in their own thoughts, wary of every shadow, every passerby.

Danny lingers behind, phone pressed to his ear again. Faintly, Tara hears, "Yo, this is Y/N, I don't check voicemails so send me a message..." then a beep.

Danny grits his teeth and slips his phone into his pocket, catching up to the group quietly.

Tara turns to the others, her voice tight. "You guys don't have to come with us," she tells Ethan, Anika, and Danny. Sam nods beside her, silently agreeing.

"Right," Ethan scoffs. "We peel off and the killer takes us out one-by-one? No thank you."

Anika squints her eyes at him, mimicking her girlfriend's glare. "I'm going to keep an eye on him," she says, pointing at Ethan, who lifts his hands in mock surrender, incredulous.

"Safety in numbers, right?" Danny speaks up. "I'm not my cousin. I don't run," he looks at Sam, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

"Let's get to the theater," Sam nods just as the train arrives.

They all stand together, but the flow of passengers getting off the train separates them. Ethan, Anika and Mindy are pushed back by people. Mindy grabs Anika's hand, steadying herself.

"Hey!" Mindy shouts after them, standing on her toes to get a glimpse of them. She spots her brother on the train. "Chad!"

Chad waits by the doors, hoping his strength is enough to keep them open. He watches his sister and her girlfriend struggle through the crowd, pushing their way forward. The thought to get off and help them crosses his mind, but then he feels someone yank him back. The doors snap shut, his eyes widening as he hears his sister call out his name again.

Mindy and Anika run, but can't make it onto the train in time. A hand grabs Mindy's shoulder, and she jumps back, pulling Anika with her. Ethan stands there, eyes wide with innocence.

"Get your Ghostface ass away from me, Ghostface." Mindy distances her and Anika away from him, ignoring the hurt expression on his face.

"Where's Mindy and Anika?" Sam asks when Chad and Danny finally join her and Tara.

"They missed the train," Chad admits, his voice tight. "I would've waited with them, but Cute Boy pulled me inside," he adds, glaring at Danny.

Tara's suspicion flares. She trusted Danny because of you, but now—with you gone, really gone—she isn't sure who to trust anymore. The plan was for you to text Danny once you had finished your part, but Danny hasn't mentioned anything to the group.

"I was trying to keep us all together," Danny defends.

"By splitting us up?" Tara asks, her voice sharp as her glare.

Chad pulls out his phone, revealing a text from Mindy: We'll get the next one. Don't wait for us. We'll meet you at the theater.

Chad locks his phone after the sisters read the message, then looks up. His eyes widen, his stomach twisting into a knot. "Shit," he mutters.

The others follow his gaze, their nerves skyrocketing. The subway car is packed to the max with Halloween revelers dressed as every horror movie character to ever exist—Freddy, Jason, Pinhead, Michael Myers, Leatherface.

But it isn't those characters that send a chill down their spines. It's the dozens of people dressed as Ghostface, their masks seemingly trained on the group, unmoving.

Tara swallows thickly. "How many stops?"

"Ten," Sam answers, her voice barely a whisper as she checks the map.

Danny grips the pole, his knuckles white from tension. "Great."

[marlenesluv]

Stress Relief. (OP)

summary: oscar has had a rough day at the track, but he comes home to his girlfriend to help him destress.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (dating)

warnings: smut, 18+ only, mdni!, oral (fem!receiving), fingering

note: first smut on here! kinda random but i just had a thought and wanted to make a little thing blurb. i know it's kinda short, i'll write something else soon with more plot, lol. i hope it's decent :/

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

Qualifying day was always something that you attended. Showing up with Oscar, holding hands through the paddock, talking with his engineers, but you had an unfortunate amount of work to get done. Being a personal assistant for the head of a business firm was fun, in theory.

Your phone was going off every five minutes with emails, and texts, calls, and reminders. Your laptop glued to your side, as well as your ipad, and today was the worst it had been in months.

Big projects coming up and documents had to be read over, slides gone through, speeches double- no, triple checked, and emails responded to the second they came through.

Obviously, Oscar was a little bummed that you couldn’t make it, but work was first, and he had no problem attending alone, as long as he got to see you when it was over.

And he did. Unfortunately, the circumstances sucked. You weren’t able to have the tv on the race, you were mostly on facetimes with people, and you had to be in your office. So you were unable to see how his car had completely shit out. Brakes broken and balance off, as well as a loose tire, he was out fast. Meaning he would start at the back on race day.

“Y/N?” Oscar called out, about to call you again when he saw you. You. Wearing his favorite hoodie, eating strawberries, and scrolling through the Formula 1 app for updates.

He came over to the sofa, making you look up and part your lips to talk, but no words came out. Defeated, that was the only word that came to mind when you looked at your boyfriend. And what was worse? Lando had placed p2 in qualifying, meaning his press after sucked.

“Hey…” You frowned and greeted him back, not knowing his mind right now. Upset, yes, but you didn’t know if he wanted a kiss, a hug, or-

Your mind went numb as he pulled your bowl away, as well as your phone, turning it off and placing it on the charger on the side table. Blinking up at him, he bit his bottom lip as his eyes got a little darker.

“I’m sorry, Osc. Do you want me to-“ He cut you off with a kiss before you could even finish your sentence. Gasping into the kiss, he slid his tongue in your mouth.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him closer just as he broke away and smiled at your pout.

He got down on his knees in-front of you, in-front of the couch, “It’s okay, princess. Just relax, ok?” Oscar pulled your shorts down, as you nodded, releasing a deep breath.

Slowly, he lowered his lips, softly kissing your thighs as you let out soft moans that were barely audible. His kisses traveled up, closer to your core where you needed him most.

Shallow breaths filled the room as he traced his finger over your underwear, on top of your clit. "Please, Oscar." You whined, moving your hips closer to him.

The way the sunset glow was shining on his face made you all the more needy for him. He knew this, smiling at you through hooded eyes as he pulled your underwear down with his fingers, tossing them on the floor.

"Are you going to be good for me tonight, doll?" His accent seemed more prominent when he was turned on, which just made you moan out and buck your hips.

"Are you?" He asked again, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"Yes, please. I need you..." Your eyes welled up a bit, desperate for his touch.

"You need me? Hm, well, if you need me-" Cutting himself off, he placed a kiss to your clit.

His hands held your hips down as he continued to place sporadic kisses to your core. If you let him, he would stay down there for hours, maybe even days. You never failed to make him feel safe and happy. All he needed was you.

Your hands traveled down once more, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. Letting out a moan on your clit, you jerked, feeling the vibrations at what seemed to be a heightened feeling.

He started to kitten lick, making you moan louder and throw your head back. Never wanting to lose eye contact, he tugged your hand that was on his hair, making your look down.

Raising his head, he spoke, "Eyes on me, beautiful, or you don't get to cum."

This gained your attention, now holding eye contact as he continued his ministrations. He boldly licked down to your hole, and back up before adding two fingers to the mix.

His fingers probed and eventually sunk in, making you moan out and clench around him. Oscar had no intention of actually fucking you tonight. All he wanted was to make you cum from his tongue and fingers, proving to himself, and you, that he was better than his p18 in qualifying. Your pleasure was above all else in his mind.

As your high was in sight, your stomach clenched, which he noticed straight away. His fingers still moved in and out at a fast pace, occasionally blowing cold air on your clit to add extra stimulation.

"Oscar- I'm gonna-" You moaned, unable to finish your sentence.

"I know, doll. It's okay, let go for me." He soothed, never letting up as his tongue went back to your clit.

When you reached your high, your hands grabbed the couch cushions and your toes curled.

Oscar helped you ride out your high, slowly licking and rubbing your calves as he pulled back. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean, he got up and wen to the bathroom.

Your eyes could barely stay awake as you felt a warm wash cloth on your legs and core, wiping you down and making sure you were clean. He then put a clean pair of his boxers on you and a new pair for him as well.

Oscar sat down beside you and pulled you to lay down on his chest on the couch, pulling a blanket over you two.

"Thank you, Osc. Don't you want me to-" He stopped you with a kiss, "I'm okay, tomorrow maybe. Lets just cuddle. Please."

You could tell he was exhausted from his day, so you agreed, nestling your head in his neck as he turned the television back onto your show. He kissed your head as you both drifted off to sleep.

No matter how much racing could frustrate him, he could always count on you to help him destress.

[tenjikufag]

Silly ask but, is it alright to request to see a Laios x male Reader story, where the reader is a transman? Maybe to how Laios would react to that information or how the reader would go about/could bring that up to Laios, esp for how scary it is to bring it up to a loved one. …and possibly for it to be fluffy/smut (stupidly sweet kind…?), fluff (maybe angst if you wanna throw in some tussle XD) will do just as good :}

Thank you if you see this! I enjoy what you make!! :D

No Problem.

Laios Touden x Trans!Male Reader

-fluff, light angst, comfort, ftm!reader, afab anatomy mentions, coming out, pre-op reader (no top/bottom surgery), hrt characteristics (T-Dick), fluffy smut

-(please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with said topics x.)

-thank you for the request, sorry it took so long to get around to. This man would be the most supportive and loving partner.

Listen, in a world where there are a thousand or more different races, anthropomorphic beings, monsters, magic, cults and guilds- being trans really isn’t that big of a deal or even something to blink twice at.

That doesn’t make it any easier though, coming out, even with all the “diversity” an ever present looming prejudice and bigotry was held among the heads of said margins- the ones who have managed to fall through the cracks of what had been somehow deemed ‘normal’ in this world..

It’s scary.

Especially when it comes to your relationship with Laios.

No, you doubt he’d hold any form of hatred or even really.. care about someone coming out to him. But that was just the problem, it almost felt like an unpredictability in his ways of emoting or showing how he reacts.

What if he didn’t accept it? What if he really did care about you not having “the right parts”…

You weren’t sure, really.

And that’s why you’d put it off for so long.

You’d been with Laios for some time now, but most of it was spent in dungeon and when you’d resurface neither of you had any of the energy to actually get physical aside from hugs and brief cuddling before he overheated and moved away in his sleep.

He hadn’t felt the layers you wore to conceal what you deemed a “secret”, neither him or the party ever seeing you without a shirt or even naked despite all the shared baths and such. Never once had they’d managed to catch you in a “slip up” of revealing yourself.

Also, why the hell would you drop such a comment and come out in the middle of the dungeon?! Who does that? Definitely not you, if it were to go sideways who’s to say they wouldn’t tie you up in vines and leave you to the giant frogs to eat?

None of them would be that cruel, you knew that. It was still hard, though.

Everyone knew you as a guy, you are a guy, your secondary characteristics prominent from the lapsed time on testosterone. It was easy to “pass” and you were worried.. really. It ate at you, even if in reality you didn’t exactly owe non-intimate partners your bodies explanation, Laios was the outlier.

An intimate partner, a boyfriend.. you’d wanted more and you knew he did too.

It felt all too difficult to do, dozens upon dozens of scenarios playing out in your hypothetical coming out but you wouldn’t know the true outcome until you actually.. told him.

—

Picking at the hem of your shirt, Laios came into your bedroom changed into his freshly washed sleep wear. His eyes scanned you, a soft smile on his lips as he slid into the bed- laying himself beside you.

You knew his next move was to wrap his arms around your waist but you needed some space to tell him. It hurt your heart a fair bit when Laios looked up at you like a whining puppy when you moved away from him..

“Are you okay?”

He asked, eyebrows crossed in concern.

“Yeah.. I just.. there’s something I need to tell you.”

The blonde sat up, crossing his legs and leaning forward towards you intently.

God, he didn’t make this any easier. His dumb almost dog like demeanour with bright golden eyes boring into you.. it sent a jolt up your spine.

“What is it?”

After all this time, rehearsing it over and over again, memorizing how your body would move and react to emote yourself to him and when he’s sitting here waiting patiently for you to tell him-

The words failed to find themselves on your tongue. Instead your throat felt tight, almost hard to swallow the word vomit that itched instead.

Your fingers continued to play with your shirt hem, trying to distract from the obvious tension.. sighing, your body decided on its own and through an incredibly impulsive action

You now sat on the bed without a shirt, binder on display.

You’d shocked yourself with the move, face burning and tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and catching on your eyelashes. Only flinching when Laios thrummed his finger on the clothing.

“You got hurt? When? Are you alright?”

He got closer, trying to inspect further but eased up at your clear discomfort.

“No. I’m not hurt!”

Unable to control your tone or volume, Laios flinched himself and moved back just a bit.

“Oh. Then what is this?”

Biting your lip, you could’ve guessed Laios wouldn’t have been familiar with these types of undergarments. With a deep, heavy sigh, your hands pushed themselves pressed into your cheeks and your neck dragged your head down to stare straight at the bed.

“I’m trans. That’s it. It’s a binder.”

It was quiet, just barely audible to him. The churning in your stomach twisted and ached, feeling like it was taking him a hundred years to respond..

Having enough with the silence, your head slowly tore itself away from your hands- Laios was still staring at you with the same care and concern he held before you came out with it.

“So? What.. what do you think?”

He blinked, tilting his head quizzically

“That was it? I thought it was something.. more? Not to uh, be mean or dismissive but-��

An amused laugh left your lips, startling your more conscious side of mind- what did he mean expected more? You didn’t want to guess, but the look of relief that washed over him told you all you needed to know.

“Are you okay with it? Okay with.. me?”

His bright eyes widened, realizing what you had actually wanted as a response

“Yeah! Of course, I love you.”

He loved you? You covered your blushing face with your hands, Laios was far too nonchalant with his words but they were sincere.

You hadn’t known why, well you did, but you had for some reason expected an explosive or more emotional response? But again.. it’s Laios. He’s not that kind of person.

“Is that why you never let me hug you for more than a few seconds?”

Pulling away from your hands, Laios sat there pouting. It was a fair question and he was right..

“I thought you didn’t like my hugs..”

The poor man seemed so upset! Sighing out a laugh, your body moved to hug his large frame.

“I love your hugs, it’s just scary.. I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

His large arms wrapped around your body tightly, a satisfied hum escaping his chest. All this worrying, all this pent up stress.. all for nothing basically. Still, this was a big moment.. Laios knew what he would see when the time came.

You felt fingers inspect your binder, one slipping under and pulling it back- losing grip on it and accidentally letting it snap back onto your skin.

“Hey! That hurt!”

Shoving him away, you rubbed the spot where it snapped back.

“Wow, it’s really tight..”

“That’s the whole point Laios.”

He pursed his lips, hand scratching his chin as he thought for a moment. Eyes glowing at whatever epiphany he had

“Why don’t you take it off? I read somewhere you shouldn’t wear it for too long and I’ve been here all day! Take it off!”

Panicked, he moved and grabbed one of his shirts from your drawer and tossed it to you.

“Someone also said you could asphyxiate yourself! Were you wearing that the whole time in the dungeon?!”

Genuine concern oozed from him, stress in his knitted brows. You motioned for him to calm down, reassuring him you were fine and that you would not get asphyxiated from wearing it- giving him a brief lesson on binders and that you made sure you were absolutely safe the whole time.

It did calm him down, but he still told you to take it off. You agreed, the tightness a tad more noticeable since Laios so rudely pulled it back..

He offered to turn around or leave, but you let him watch. Even if he was turning red the whole time, shifting awkwardly while you changed.. he’d never seen your bare skin before now and it had him feeling hot and bothered.. your skin was smooth, aside from the faint pink outlines of where the seams laid on your skin.

Smiling up at him, you changed into his oversized sleep shirt and took a deep breathe of relief.

Laying back down on the bed, arms stretched out to let the large man cuddle into you. You could feel his attentive gaze on you, and you knew that meant he had a couple questioned festering in that ever-learning mind of his.

“What’s on your mind?”

He flushed, shoving himself further into you before he brought up his courage.

“Can.. can I see? I know you get facial hair and I am curious to see how it effects the rest of your body..”

Ah. Of course. Whispering a small sound of approval, you let him lift the shirt.. feeling yourself heat up again when he started fondling your chest.

“They’re not big, I think you can do without your binder in colder months.”

“Uh.. yeah. Thanks?”

He hummed, large hands exploring your torso and tickling along your skin. The motions he made, how his hands managed to squeeze just right in the more sensitive places had the space between your legs warming up and getting wetter by the second..

Laios was getting excited too, with the way he was cuddled up his hard on brushed against your leg. He shifted upwards, kissing your cheek and then the corner of your mouth. You were quick to grab his face and kiss him fully, slipping your tongue into his mouth- his hands now tightly holding onto the plush flesh of your chest.

Moaning out, you pulled away breathlessly. Laios’ eyes already hazed over, a hungry look you’d only ever seen in dungeon trickled over his features. He moved to cage you between his arms, hovering over you as he caught your lips with his again before leaving wet kisses along the side of your neck.

“Can I go further?”

His words laced with lust reached themselves between your legs, for sure leaving a wet spot in your underwear. An excited arousal festered in your abdomen, nodding at his question of consent.

With a smile, he pecked your lips before throwing off his own shirt and shimmying down to where your boxers peaked out from your pyjama bottoms. Golden eyes looked up to your own, checking to see if you were still okay with what he wanted to do.

You wanted it bad, he knew that. He felt it. Pulling down your bottoms, his eyes widened in delight. Admittedly you felt shy and kind of insecure, never being this exposed to him before but before any of your worries could settle into the pool of your arousal-

He took a long, striped lick between your folds, flicking his tongue when it met your clitoris.

Shuddering at the sensation, your legs instinctively tried to close but he remained steadfast inbetween your legs. Taking experimental licks around your folds, suckling on your tiny dick. It sent electric shocks of pleasure up your body, making the heat in your abdomen burn even more.

The man smiled at the reactions, licking and kissing your inner thighs, up your stomach, lips tracing their own path on your happy trail. He pushed your thighs back, exposing more of you and really dove in.

It was wet, the sound of slick between each lap and suckle from his mouth made blood pool in your cheeks. He had you gasping, stomach rising and falling with each groan and grunt from you.

When he pulled away, a faint sheen on his lips and chin remained. He was happy, satisfied with his warm up on you.

“Can I-“

“Yes. Please.”

You needed him, it was your first time with him and you wanted it all. He could play with you all he wanted after but for now the two of you ached and craved to feel each other whole.

While he slipped off his bottoms, you caught your breathe and ran your fingers through your hair to ease yourself into it.

You knew he was big, above average, and even with how wet you were it was going to be a stretch.

Sighing in content, you hadn’t realized he already had a condom on and was aligned with your heat until it poked just at the entrance.

Startled, you looked down between where your pelvises met.. he looked up at you with a soft smile. With a hitched breathe, he positioned the head of his dick to lay just inside the entrance. His eyes focused on yours, leaning down to kiss you.

Slowly, as he deepened the kiss he slid in. The stretch was tight, making your nose scrunch with the building pressure.

Until you felt yourself finally accommodate for his size, a wave of pleasured relief heating your whole body.

“Fuck..”

Groaning into the kiss, he rocked his hips slowly. You could feel his own muscles tense under your grip and he shared his own grunts of pleasure, letting them pool into your mouth.

The two of you weren’t going to last long, no matter how much control and how slow the pace was.

It was all overwhelming, emotions at a peaked high from what happened before and it being the first shared time.

The coil that sweltered in your pelvis was quickly coming to its end, feeling yourself clench around him and making more slick sounds with every thrust he made.

“Laios, I’m close.”

“Me too..”

It was almost a whimper, his mouth near your ear as he shyly buried his face into your neck, pleading with himself with every rut he made inside.

Your orgasm washed over you without warning, moaning out and gripping the blondes shoulders tightly- with your high almost ending, he came quickly after from every tight pulse you made on him.

Laying there breathlessly, he slumped onto your body. The two of you both smiling like idiots.

“You’re.. so.. handsome..”

His soft dick now pulled out, he caressed your ribs and kissed your cheek.

“I love you no matter what.. thank you.. for telling me..”

His post orgasm clarity made him say what he hesitated or couldn’t find the words for earlier, though it was through soft yawns and slurred sleepy words- it was what you needed to hear.

All your hypotheticals and nightmares fluttered from your mind, you almost had to pinch yourself for ever thinking the man would be anything but loving and accepting. He loved you for you, and you loved him for him. Quirks and all.

[reality-detective]

The Vatican: Human Trafficking Hub

The Vatican Underground- Cleared

The Dulce Base- Underground Cleared

The Area 51 Underground Base- Cleared

Orion Group ❌ (Defeated)

Ciakharr Group ❌ (Defeated)

Killy Tokurt Group ❌ (Defeated)

These are the three main factions responsible for the

The CIA is connected to the Killy Tokurt Ops. They are the one who specialize in soul scalping. This is how our government leaders were replaced. Removing the light body & soul and replacing it with a physical vessel void of any connection to source.

Sherry Shriner covered this in many videos/audios. Megan Rose spoke about this in one of her books. Corey Goode is also another source who spoke on the caste system of the Ciakharr who are the top elite in their race.

Remember when I mentioned that people were not ready once they found out who have been eating the children? Guess what was the capitol for the "Child Sex Trafficking" breeding hub?

The Vatican.

Do you remember the story or report that came out in July of 2019 where thousands of bones was unearthed in two ossuaries discovered in the Vatican City, as part of an ongoing search for clues into the disappearance of a 15-year-old girl more than three decades ago in 1983?

Do you remember the mass grave full of baby bones found along the shores of Israel's Mediterranean coast, in the ancient seaport of Ashkelon in 2014?

Do you remember An Indigenous group said the remains of as many as 751 people, mainly children, had been found in unmarked graves on the site of a former boarding school in Saskatchewan?

As a matter of fact that was a 2,300 page document that leaked that verified Pope Francis’ cover up of a Vatican Pedophile Ring. Did you know 20 Chilean Priests who went public on their connection to that very same Pedophile Ring, were killed in a plane crash right after their meeting with Pope Francis?

Back on July 20 2014 the International Common Law Court of Justice in Brussels found defendants Pope Francis Bergoglio, Catholic Jesuit Superior General Adolfo Pachon and Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby guilty of rape, torture, murder and the trafficking of children. (Nothing Is Happening?)

I highly doubt it.

Two adolescent women told the ICLCJ Court that Pope Francis raped them while participating in child sacrifices during the Springs of 2009 and 2010 in rural Holland and Belgium. According to a former employee of the Curia in Rome, rapes and murders of children also took place at the Carnarvon Castle in Wales and an undisclosed French Chateau.

A Prosecutor introduced notarized affidavits by eight others claiming to witness these same crimes organized by the Vatican. Another witness testified that they were present during meetings with the then Argentine priest and Bishop Francis and the military Junta during Argentine’s 1970′s Dirty War.

According to the witness, Francis helped traffic 30,000 children of missing political prisoners into the Vatican Pedophile Ring.

Do you know why this has taken so long? If you knew how vast these underground tunnels are you would understand why certain EOs signed by D. Trump kept getting extensions.

The Military at some point will disclose the battles that went underground.

The weapons used.

The strategies used.

The entries/exits used.

The medical technology used.

The portals/gateways that were used.

You got a glimpse of this during the fight that went on underground with the Phil Schneider lectures that still can be found on YouTube about the Dulce extraterrestrial confrontation that resulted in lives being lost and him being scarred from it.

People are only looking at the human aspect of this process. They are not looking at this as governments officials serving a unknown species that want world dominion who is an entire different secret government whose base are in these DUMBS-(Deep Underground Military Bases) who control all of our 3 letter agencies who are middlemen/conduits who these covert species use to control Washington. 🤔

Julian Assange

[gatheredfates]

On the Topic of Plagiarism:

I decided to make my own post rather that co-oping @thefreelanceangel's because, despite having her full and enthusiastic permission to do so, what I'm talking about is somewhat adjacent to her point and entirely inspired BY the fact she tagged @riftdancing—particularly Blink—and I wanted to demonstrate examples of incidence were coincidence and consent do not immediately equate to plagiarism; it's ultimately about intent, and you do not need to tear yourself up on the inside if you find someone with a similar idea to yours, provided neither of you have gone out of your way to copy each other.

First, please meet the troops:

On the left is Miss Koret Swan. On the right is Miss Blink Vaniro. As I so delicately summed up:

It would be easy to surmise, based on this alone, that one of us copied the other person. However, both of these are old characters, written in a time and space where neither of us knew each other, and the similarities have always been a cause for laughter and playful teasing rather than competition and spite. I made Koret in WoW as a sister to a wolf and lamb concept, and Pepper made Blink as a character to an overarching D&D campaign set in a sci-fi universe.

What I'm trying to say is that, whilst plagiarism is absolutely a bad thing, as someone with anxiety over this sort of thing, you do not need a wholly 100% original idea in order to write and roleplay publicly, and many ideas share overt similarities to others that deviate the moment you peel back the veneer.

Koret and Blink are both 'pirates'. Koret is a privateer (said with all the sarcasm a privateer entails; a pirate with the proper papers) and Blink is a sky pirate. All of Kor's theming is around the ocean, particularly the deep ocean, and Blink's is all about the sky and the freedom it gives. But they both have wolf motifs. Kor has had a sister, Blink has had a brother.

What makes these characters different is the way that we explore them and how these broad ideas become niche based on the concepts we want to expand on as writers. What makes them different is that neither was written despite (or even in spite) of the other, nor did one of us look at the other and go 'oh, i want to do x with y because i think it'll be better'.

There are dozens of femme fatal concepts out there. There are heaps of bad-ass men. If I had a dollar for every knight character that was in xiv alone, I'd still be a rich woman. Hell, I know for a fact that my star-gazing viera is certainly not the first of her kind, nor will she be the last. I can coexist in spaces with people who have these similar concepts because I know there's enough deviation between those characters, as I have spent the time cultivating a niche story for mine where broad concepts are more set-dressing than the actual meat and potatoes of the character.

If you have the ick about someone copying you, especially if you have a negative history with them or the person is being weird, you're probably right on the money. I have had characters of mine blatantly ripped off for the former. But this is more for the reassurance of people who are like 'I don't want a pink-themed miqo'te because I know one already exists' or 'I don't want to play with a spore druid concept because I know one exists' (i'm using my own miqo'te here as an example, LMAO). You can have a primadonna, pink miqo'te who lives in Ishgard and is clawing her way to the tippy top of the high houses and I wouldn't stress because my primadonna, pink miqo'te is currently knee-deep in a bog because she heard she can find peat mummies there. They're not the same. They share similarities, but they're not the same.

Write it because you think it's fun. Not because you've seen x's concept be popular and you want a slice of it. Not because you want a ship similar to y's and you're going to gush about how much you love it and try to mosey in with a knock-off (no, this has never happened to me, what do you mean?). You're not going to have the same amount of fun!! It won't be the same!!

But also, at the same time, don't rob yourself of an opportunity to play with a concept because someone else is already doing it, especially if it's just a trope. People can tell the difference and they will embrace it if you're earnest.

You may even find someone like I found Pepper. We laughed at it. Then we made an AU and shipped them. They're kissing. They are stabbing. They are kissing and stabbing each other.

[loulovingho]

I made a little bucktommy fic based off of this post from yesterday (read here or on ao3)

Husbands

There had been a big fire, taking out the top eight floors of a high rise. There were multiple stations involved, including the 118 and Harbor, ground and air support, to get the fire under control and everyone out safely.

It took more than a few hours, but eventually the fire was out and everyone was getting their gear in order to head back to their respective stations.

As Buck organized the tools in the truck, a small group of friends, two guys and two girls, in their mid-twenties Buck assumed, gathered around him.

It had started with little comments; a guy asked what the axe was used for, a girl batted her eyelashes as she touched his turnouts because she “always wondered what the material felt like”, another girl asked how much water could be stored in the truck.

Buck liked talking. He liked answering questions and telling people what he did. He leaned against the firetruck as they chatted, until about five minutes in one of the guys sighed and got to the point. “We're honestly just wondering if one of us could get your number? Or all of us. Doesn't really matter.”

Buck paused. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy getting hit on. He enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. It was always nice to know when someone found you attractive.

Getting hit on was fun. Getting people's numbers was fun. But, there was something else that was even funner now. He'd been able to do it for exactly three months, to the day. Not that he wasn't flashing his ring beforehand, but something about being married sounded even better than being engaged.

“Sorry, guys,” Buck said, smiling as he lifted his left hand into view, “Im flattered, but I'm married.”

As some disappointed, and some still interested, looks broke out over the group, a familiar voice sounded behind Buck. “Damn, I was just about to shoot my shot.”

A blush rose on Buck's face as Tommy passed by. He was working ground ops today, and Buck knew he was around, but this was the first he'd seen of him. “Yeah, you wish, Kinard,” he called back, causing Tommy to turn back around to him.

He shrugged, smirking. “A guy can dream, can't he?” he asked with a wink, continuing backwards toward his truck.

It was only once Tommy was out of view that Buck realized the group was still there, staring between Buck and the direction Tommy went with confusion on their faces.

“Oh, uh, that- that's my husband.”

His smile grew as he watched the realization hit the group. They didn't stand a chance.

“Forget it,” one girl mumbled as they all started to disperse.

“They're both so hot, what the hell?” one guy whispered, albeit loudly, to his friend.

“And unbelievably corny,” the friend said back, not even trying to be quiet. “Makes me wanna gag.”

Buck rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from where he was leaning on the firetruck. He began walking in the direction Tommy had gone, needing to see him before his station left.

“Get any numbers, hot stuff?” Tommy's voice made Buck jump. He was situated between two trucks and, from the looks of it, had just finished pouring a bottle of water over his head to clean himself off.

Buck's shoulders relaxed as he walked over to Tommy. “No, I did not,” he said cheekily. “You wanna know why?”

“Hmm?”

“Because my husband interrupted. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling he wants to keep me to himself.”

“The nerve of that guy.” Tommy moved closer to Buck, his hands coming up to grip onto the sides of Buck's turnouts. “Can't say I blame him though.” He spoke quietly, staring between Buck's eyes and lips, “He does have a really hot husband.”

Buck put his hand at the nape of Tommy's neck, closing the space between them as he pulled him in for a kiss. He had no concern for the fact he was getting soot right back on Tommy's clean face. Payback.

“Can you bring your turnouts home?” Buck asked, leaning back just enough to speak.

Tommy laughed, his face scrunching up into that deep smile that made Buck melt. “This really does something for you, doesn't it?”

“Every damn time.”

Another kiss, this one slower and softer. A promise of what's to come when they're both off shift in a few hours. “I'll figure out a way.”

[scoonsalicious]

3.4 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of Bucky's past, minor fluff.

Word Count: 482

Previously On...: Bucky and Lily went out to brunch, and Bucky lied about his upcoming plans with you.

A/N: I'm going to let you all know well in advance that, once I finish posting through Chapter 5, I am going to take a small break from updating so I can write (I'm thinking maybe a week, tops). I've had some things going on recently that have been taking up a lot of my mental and emotional energy, which has prevented me from being as invested in the story as I want to be, so I need to take some time to get myself in the right headspace to where the story just flows out. I'm currently only two chapters ahead, and that makes me nervous, so I would like to build my buffer back up again. So, there will be a pause in updates starting on Tuesday, May 14th, and updates will resume on Tuesday, May 21st. I do hate doing this, and I know that, as a reader, it's so annoying when you have to wait between updates, but it needs to be done in order to provide you with the best story possible. I probably should have taken more time between finishing Unwanted and beginning to post With Friends Like These..., but I was too eager to share it with all of you to wait, lol. I want to be upfront and honest with all of you ahead of time, so I hope you understand.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You’d spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon digging up everything you could about Bucky’s trial. At first, you were getting nowhere, not being able to find any information about ‘Bucky Barnes,’ but then you nearly slapped yourself on the head when you recalled Lily referring to him as ‘Jamie.’ Obviously, ‘Bucky’ was a nickname, and once you searched ‘James Barnes + trial,” you were nearly overwhelmed by the number or results you got.

Meticulously, you went through them, as if you were gathering intelligence for a military op. You read all about his history in World War II with Steve (which, admittedly, you sort of already knew about from Nat), but things took a turn when you discovered he’d been declared MIA: Presumed Dead, only to resurface around 2014.

You nearly started crying when you read what had been done to him– the loss of his arm, the experiments, the serum, all under the control of the terrorist group, Hydra. The brainwashing. And you really did start to cry when you read about what Hydra had made him do for them. The assassinations, the murders. Screw whatever Zadie and Rand thought. This poor man was a victim. One who didn’t deserve to spend a moment behind bars. Your heart positively broke for him. 

You were wiping the tears from your eyes when Zadie popped her head in. “Hey, Major,” she said, a devilish smile on her face. “You got a delivery.”

You look back at her, puzzled. You weren’t expecting anything. Getting up from your chair, you made your way to the front reception area. There, on Zadie’s desk, was a beautiful gold bowl holding a live fuschia orchid plant. 

“There’s a note!” Zadie squealed, bouncing on her toes and wringing her hands together in excited anticipation.

Biting your lip, you reached over and picked up the note. Unfolding it, you tried to make out the messy scrawl:

‘Major,

Thanks for bringing some beauty into my life last night. Figure it’s only fair I return the favor. Looking forward to seeing you tonight for dinner. - Bucky’

“Oh. My. God.” Zadie picked up a piece of paper from her desk and began fanning herself. “I don’t care how many people that guy murdered,” she said. “That’s the most romantic fucking thing I’ve ever seen!” She paused. “How did he even know orchids are your favorite?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently running your finger along the edges of the soft petals. “I guess I’ll have to ask him tonight.” You looked back at the note, rereading it, and smiling. You felt your stomach fill up with butterflies, as though you were a sixteen year old girl again, getting flowers from a boy for the very first time. God, but this man seemed absolutely perfect. 

But you were never this lucky. You couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ll Take the Night Shift

Pairing: Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Before you knew it, John was gone - taken from right under your nose and leaving you no choice but to retreat without him. But you would do anything to get him back, even go into the lion’s den itself.

Word Count: 15.2k

Warnings: Torture, blood & gore, V suggestive & some spicy bits, vulgar language, angst, found family tropes, eventual fluff, and comfort, injured Price would be the sweetest person idc, so much plot, briefly edited

A/N: The flashbacks are spicy because I said so. (Soap request being written after this). Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You try to remember how you felt the first time they told you. Your combat vest was still on, that night vision rig still connected to your head and weighing about as much as John did when he rolled on top of you in the middle of the night. At your front rested the M13, its black and sleek metal bumping against your chest with every teetering step.

Black, on black, on black. Except for one item, hidden, kept close to heart, and even closer to mind at all hours. You were always aware of it, the metallic press that was ingrained into your body just as the caress of John’s fingers was, burning over your pulsing epidermis as it traveled.

Around your neck, your wedding ring sat heavily on its chain – gold more bright than the sun and kept safe and warm against the flesh of your breast under the numerous padded layers. Your face was bathed in sweat, lungs aflame with blood dripping from a knife puncture on your right thigh. Although the limb is bathed in crimson, the dark fabric of your pants hid most of it. But it couldn’t hide the red footprints in the dirt.

It was a Black Op in Finland – a target stashed away in a mansion that was clawing for breath in this dense forest with more viridian-colored trees than any you had seen before. Green seemed to breed in the small spaces, between rocks, up crackling bark; crunching under your black boots as you came to a shattering halt. Moss and tiny plants get crushed under your fierce steps.

If it was any other circumstance, you would have loved to drag your husband here for a vacation.

You had felt fear when they told you. Cold. Chest-tightening. Skin tingling as your limping body fought to focus on anything but the pain that was spiking in your leg, but that was simple when the words flew from Gaz’s lips with panic. Simon had stopped behind you as well, the two men dressed just as you were and holding their breath for your reaction. They knew it wouldn’t be good.

“The Captain isn’t responding. Soap can’t bloody find him.” The chill of the night was nothing compared to the dread that flooded your veins, eyes snapping forward blankly at flashing shadows as your panting breath was all at once sucked back down.

What?! Is all you can numbly think.

A brief stuttering inhalation ensues, your brain screaming as if banshees wail and smash against the bone of your skull with sharp teeth and blunt nails; tearing to try and get out. But you were not born to break at such a fickle emotion as fear in your bloodstream, or the adrenaline making your eyes vibrate. You were taught to act. 

You’re turning on your heels and hiking back to the mansion without a word or hesitation, the world around you speeding by. In a single instant, the organ in your head promptly goes silent in a fell swoop of horrified realization. Everyone left in that mansion would be dead if you got your hands on them – ripped to tiny little pieces until that which was yours was returned unharmed and conscious into your arms.

You hold the M13 tight around the stock, jimmying it into your shaking grip.

“Whoa!” Gaz rushes to get ahead of your warpath – which didn’t take much as your wound was throbbing; making your head pound something awful. 

It doesn't matter what I feel…Where is my John?

Dark hands grasp your shoulders tightly, shaking you as your lips turn into a snarl.

“Out of my way, Garrick,” You growl, face suddenly twisting into an image of pure animalistic rage, “I’m going to Soap’s position.” 

Attempting to jerk out of the man’s hold, your skin crawls at the thought of John. He always answered the comms – always stayed within eyesight of his partner when placed with another individual. Your husband did not leave men behind. He would never leave Soap behind. 

And that meant he was either dead or captured.

Your mind jumps to violent imagery. Your Captain, riddled with bullets and bleeding as he writhes in pain; left to die like a feral dog as he snaps at everything that moves. Or worse, taken and stashed away, far from you, and tortured for information. John would never break – they’d have to kill him anyway.

There was no version of this story that involved him living if you did nothing.

“Johnny isn’t at the mansion,” Ghost comments, popping up in the side of your vision as you have a stare-off with Gaz and releases the radio attached to his vest, “He was under heavy fire – had to pull back. Should be closin’ in on our position soon.” 

“I’m still going back!” Growling, you snap your arms back and shoulder past Gaz, “You’re idiots if you think I’m leaving John by himself in fucking Finland surrounded by hostiles.”

But what if he’s already dead and I don’t know it? Can I handle that?

You grunt under your breath, trying to stop the sting of your eyes.

“Love,” The younger man pleads, Kyle’s dark eyes worryingly going from your thigh to your face, “You’ve got to be bloody joking with us. If you go back to that place you’re as good as dead. We have to pull back to the Evac Point. There are too many guns – we’re outnumbered.”

When you had joined Task Force 141 you had never expected to marry the older Captain of this rag-tag bunch. It had been surprising enough that you had been spotted by the brown-haired Brit at all, only seeing him once when he had come to teach a class of rookies on Counter-Terrorism. Naturally, the two of you had struck up a conversation – or, rather, you had forced him to speak to you. But how could you not? The man was about as handsome as they came. The gruff and gravel tone that rumbled his chest, his large build reminiscent of a brown bear, and how the muscles under his shirt had rippled when you snuck up on him. Physically, he was everything you wanted, and the same went for attitude once you got to know him.

And, hell, how could you look at someone like John Price and not get entranced by his eyes? Storm gray and raging waters; you swore you could see an entire world hidden in the flecks of silver as if he was carved from stone and his soul was pure electricity. But despite all of it, his serious face had seemed warm under that beard of his and that bucket hat on his head wasn’t helping. He seemed kind enough, and that had piqued your interest as you were constantly being surrounded by less-than-respectful men in the barracks.

In fact, your first sentence to him was, “How many times have you nearly lost that hat of yours mid-Op, Sir?” 

You had snuck up while the rookies were working through a practice course down below the loft, where the two of you currently were. John’s head had snapped to the side, his constantly narrowed eyes widening a fraction. If you had to guess, he didn’t get snuck up on often. 

But he had never met you before.

His arms were attached to the collar of his vest, and you saw the fingers tighten as his shoulder-width stance tensed below him. The shouts and calls of the people below blurred as you tilted your head, blinking innocently up at him, watching his lips move with heated thoughts. 

You quite liked him looking surprised.

“Ma’am,” He utters in greeting, before letting out a deep sigh that makes you huff a laugh in turn. He seemed tired – stressed, “Very funny. Don’t suppose you’re part of the others down there, then, are you?”

“Unfortunately, no, Sir,” Your gaze filters to the flailing limbs and you watch with creasing eyebrows at the chaos, amusement deep in your blood, “I mean…they look like they’re having fun, at least.”

“Yeah, that’s a bloody exaggeration, that is,” His wrinkled forehead had creased, following the horrific sight as well, “Laswell told me that this group was promising.”

Your laugh makes his head fully turn back to you, blinking down and fighting the flick of his eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh, God, she told you that?!” Shaking your head you shifted your body to face him and stifled your chuckles. You say your name and utter out, “If you want someone who’s not going to sugarcoat things for her amusement, Captain Price, you come straight to me. Squad 5 is the one you want for Counter-Terrorism courses; certainly not 3. That’s a good way to get shot in the ass by your own guys.”

He stared at you for a long minute before his eyes flickered down to your hand; he grunted and grasped it in his own. 

You were correct – he was warm. Firm. The ingrained lines of his palms splayed over yours, and the flesh of your lips softened at the delicate way he was holding you. Like you were a prized weapon. 

And you would have it no other way.

“Just Price is fine, Ma’am. Kate mentioned you in her call…You were in Romania in ‘04, Yeah? Quite the job to do by yourself…You ever think on joinin’ a team?” 

Three months later Laswell was giving you a call saying you were getting a promotion and the rest was subtle glances that evolved into stolen touches in dark corners when no one was looking. It had been scary how instant the feelings were realized…you trusted John with your life, just as he did with you. That was the first feeling after lust and the one far before love – protectiveness for each other on the same level as wolves in a pack.

You can’t leave him behind.

“He’s the Captain–” Your lips begin to hiss out, eyes narrowed at the ground as you struggle along. You were weaker than you should have been – blood loss leaving you nearly on the ground after the retreat, “He’s my husband!”

Rage was easier than panic. Perhaps that was why John called you Lion for a callsign.

“...And you’re going to get him killed.” The remark makes you freeze. Ghost doesn’t move from behind you as the echo of his words bounces off the trees, but you feel his presence just the same as Gaz clears his throat awkwardly, “You go back, Aarre Virtanen will put a bloody bullet in ‘em. Not a chance he doesn’t.”

Aarre Virtanen. The target that had escaped the Force’s grasp like the weasel he is. Your eyes alight with rage, and cities burn in your iris. 

“You’re just about the most impulsive person I’ve ever met, Love,” John mutters into your hair, running his fingertips over the hospital gown as he lays in the bed with you. Your eyes are closed, feeling your head rise and fall with the steady breathing in the Captain's chest – damn him, the way he touched you was hypnotic; putting you to sleep where the pain meds failed.

“Hm,” You groan, digging your head deeper into his peck and feeling him chuckle velvety.

“I need to teach you how to think plans through before you commit, Yeah? Else you’re going to keep getting hurt…and we can’t have that, eh, can we Sweetheart?”

“...If you’re gonna hold me like this when I get shot, I’ll make sure to take more bullets for you from now until the end of time.”

A puff of breath and a brush of coarse beard hairs over your scalp.

“You’re hopeless, you are. What am I supposed to do with you…?”

“Probably kiss me, Sir, but I’m not picky. You can fuck me too while you’re at it.”

A shuttering of leaves rips everyone out of their arguing, and in an instant three guns are held leveled at a dense bush, shaking in the moonlight. Every moment spent with John was flashing over your eyes like you were dying. Why was your breath getting strained? Why was your grip shaking?

“Friendly! Don’t go poppin’ off shots, it’s jus’ me!” Your stance lessens at the familiar Scottish drawl, air falling from your nose in a terse sigh. 

Soap’s body pops out a second later, and you’re right next to him with a heavy heart, gripping him by the arm and digging. It was hard, holding yourself together with string and fraying cloth, but you had to. You can’t break…not now. The man's vision is locked on your face, and you don’t like the thinness of his lips as his expression is layered with guilt. 

It mirrors against the desperation in yours, leaking into the tone coating your sentence like poison.

“Little Lady, I–”

“Where is my husband, Johnny?” Your face contorts, pulling back. He was supposed to be here, why wasn't he here? He took MacTavish with him because he needed an expert to detonate a bomb in the lower mansion’s tunnel structure. He said he’d be back soon…Where is he? “Johnny, please, he can’t…” Begging has never been implemented in your life. Never.

But for John, you’d do anything. 

The man in question flinches back, the dried blood over his face catching your gaze in the dim light as you stop dead; your eyes slashed the distance between Soap’s visage and the gore over his cheeks. Up his arms. On his hands. Staining his chest like fucking finger-paint. Before you know it you’re backing up, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings and jumping from place to place as all you can see is red. Your hands are slippery, and you hold them limply ahead of you. 

No, no, no. No, it can’t be.

“Holy shit, Soap,” Gaz whispers, voice horrified, and you feel his hand on your back trying to steady you, “Is that…” 

Ghost’s dead eyes stay locked on the scene, narrowing behind his mask. The Scot’s head flows to the blood, quickly inhaling as his nose scrunches. His lips part in horror as he tries to calm you down, backing up a step. 

But you can’t stop seeing red.

“Hen, now don’t do that – it’s not…I…He,” He stumbles over his words, swallowing thickly as you gape. Soap growls, splaying his hands, “Steamn’ Bloody Jesus! The explosive went off prematurely, fucken’ bastard of a device – whoever made it should get his neck rung – an’ the…the tunnel collapsed with us in it,” You just stare, and you wonder if your heart can hurt any more than it already is. At your side, Gaz blows out a slow breath, and over your back, you feel his grip tighten, “I tried to get him out of the rubble, Hen. But,” He stops, and one of his hands smacks against the top of his helmet, “Virtanen’s men got there first. God,” Johnny gasps your name, “I’m so sorry.” 

But all you do is stare. 

“Love,” Garrick lightly says, his breath on the side of your face, “Love, we have to move.”

But Gaz, You want to say; scream, as your stained fingers twitch when you level them with a heavy glare, Gaz I can’t leave him here

“He’s not dead.”

Ghost grunts, fixing the position of his gun over his chest; resting on hand on the end and looking off into the trees, “They’d keep ‘em alive. Try to get answers – who he is, who sent him…” The man trails. 

Your heart fractures your ribs, ears ring like cicadas under your skin.

He’s not dead, You have to tell yourself so you don’t break down, looking at everyone around with veiled shock, He’s not dead.

The only reason the four of you were still standing around was that, in the absence of John’s leadership, you took point. It hit you suddenly, then, in that instant where the storm that was going on inside of your head was silenced. These men were under your wing – they needed you to take up the mantle; you needed to trust that John was alright. If only to keep the whole of the 141 safe and alive.

Gaz had shrapnel in his back; Soap looked like he was about to either turn around and go on a rampage or slump over with his head in his hands. And Ghost well…he was Ghost, but even so, his clothes were layered with blood and dirt. Not to mention yourself – your thigh has since gone numb.

…And we can’t stay here. 

With your heart falling into a deep hole, you school your expression. 

Don’t think about him. Don’t do it. 

Your job has never been more difficult than at that moment.

“Evac Point is a ten-minute jog. L-Laswell’s expecting us.” The voice that comes out of your mouth isn’t yours, the tone is off and the structure is shaky at best and broken at worst. There was nothing more you could do, even if you knew you could drag your way back to the mansion and start a fight. 

Gaz was right, you would die if you went back. And you can’t get John home safe if you were dead. 

The team needs you to lead them just as your husband would. 

So, avoiding all eye contact and the wide looks, you slip out of Kyle’s hold, feeling your leg sizzle with agony as you put weight on it. Garrick mutters your name, and Soap clears his stuffed throat; coughing into the night. Ghost is the one who loops his arm under your shoulders when he strides up behind you, and you flinch at the contact before closing your eyes and feeling bitter tears drip down your cheeks.

“We’ll get ‘em back, Lion,” The man glances down at you, skeletal face glowing bone white, “I give you my word.” But you don’t answer, just grimace and will away the feelings in your heart and the vomit in the back of your throat. 

This is what John would want you to do, you know that – perhaps that was the only reason you were willing to leave and reevaluate at all – but, somehow, it still felt wrong. 

Akin to betrayal.

The ring around your neck suddenly weighed more than the numb flesh of your leg as tears smack the moss mutely.

—

Laswell is sitting in the meeting room as a nurse wraps your thigh tightly. The sutures underneath pull at your flesh; making it stretch at a touch of a finger as you stand upright. The others had pleaded with you to sit down, but nothing would sway you. Not even the needle that had been going through your skin when you refused pain medication. Being on your feet made you feel better – like you were about to do something which would stop the thinness of your breath and the jump of your heart. Your weight was mostly on your uninjured limb anyhow, shifting as the affected pant’s leg was cut lengthwise and shoved aside as the gauze slowly wrapped around and around.

“When are we going after him,” You ask Kate, rubbing the sleep from your eyes but only succeeding in spreading dirt and blood all over your sockets, “I’ll be ready in five if you need me to be. All of us will.”

“Damn right,” Kyle nods, “Just give the order.” 

The blonde sighs, and the other men in the room move on their feet in unease. No one was content sitting still – one of their own was missing. Soap in particular was taking it badly; almost as broken up as you about it.

“We can’t do anything,” Your rampaging heart clenches. You had been worried about that, “This mission was Black,” Laswell’s chair squeaks as she rises, a tablet in her hands and a scowl on her face, “Legally speaking, no one was ever in Finland in the first place. A blown power box was the cause of the explosion.”

“Kate–” Gaz growls, but Soap cuts him off.

“This is clatty, Laswell!” He crosses his arms, the mohawk on his head pressed down from being in a helmet for so long making him look unhinged. When the helicopter had dropped the Force off at base, a meeting had immediately been called; that was over three hours ago, and still, nothing had been done. It was precious time, “Send out drones, recon forces, anything. Hell, send us back in – we'll take care of this.”

“Sergeant MacTavish,” Kate stares at him, and she spares a quick glance at you as the nurse stands quickly and leaves. You clench your jaw. Without John being here the room felt empty, devoid of a very important figure; you were no leader, but what choice did you have but to take charge, “Price knew the risks, and…Black Op means no take backs. He’s been in this a long time.”

“We all have,” You whisper, grunting as a shiver of fire runs up your leg. 

In the back of your subconscious, you know everyone can see how shaken you are. Your eyes constantly rove to the corners as if shadows will suddenly take form and attack, your fingers twitch as if still around the trigger of a gun; when someone mentions John’s name your hand unconsciously reaches to grasp the ring around your neck. Gaz spares you looks, reaching up to fix the position of his ball cap with tense breaths. 

Inside, the thoughts were running faster than you could catch them. Every moment you spent with your Captain – dinner dates, gifts that you told him not to buy you but he did anyways…the list went on including the moments spent together. They were distracting you. He was distracting you.

Was this how it felt to lose a vital part of you? Like torture? But your person knows what torture was like – it had never felt as painful as this before. You couldn’t recall in your memory a time when your chest had been this wound tight, fingers so shaky and weak. Your brain was what you would consider your best companion in these situations…but this was different. Common sense had abandoned you in the form of a square brown-bearded face and strong arms.

God, John, You press your fingers into your eyes until you see stars, Please be okay. Please. I’ll be there soon. J-just wait for me.

There was another voice as well, telling you that if you just told yourself he was okay you could get through this easier. You could break later – you needed to focus on getting your husband back.

That was all that mattered.

Laswell scratches at the back of her neck, and your hands fall back to your sides.

“We can’t do anything,” Kate repeats, and the subtle change in phonics leads your head to snap up. Her deep blues were already staring at you; boring into your soul. The others perked up as well when your body stills, listening with predatory attention, “Shame. I heard the target was planning on being at a get-together in a week at his property in Poland.”

Your pulse stills, and you find your wavering voice, “...Can’t fault the man, he has a weapon-smuggling business to run…He’ll need more potential clients.”

“Hm,” The boys look back and forth with bright eyes, teeth showing as their lips peel back, “Affirm.” Laswell saunters to leave the room, slipping past you. But before she brushes against your shoulder her face tilts to you. You smell her scent – bark and coarse linen – as she speaks, “You might want to clean up the armory and get your gear repaired. John wouldn’t stand for his team looking like shit it if he was here.”

Kate saunters out the door, and you watch her back as the barrier closes, standing in silence. Sucking down a slow breath, your gaze filters back to the boys only to find them already staring at you. 

“Well,” Clearing your throat, your eyebrows twitch, “You heard her. We can’t do anything…officially.”

“I’d say we better go clean up, then,” Soap grunts, crossing his arms over his chest, and nodding his head to you, “Head off and get a good sleep.”

Gaz and Ghost spare glances, but look about as ready as you are. 

“You sure you’re up for this, Love?” Garrick asks motioning toward your leg with a head nod as he moves closer, “We have no problem doing this by ourselves.”

“I took my vows just the same as he did,” You respond immediately, gripping the younger man by the shoulder and sending a small, weak, smile, “You think he’d stay behind if it was me?”

“I think he’d rather let Soap make him tea again. And we know how that went last time.”

You huff out a sound that resembles a laugh, but the Scot in question refuses to look at you; your eyes catch Ghost sending you glances before he motions with his head to the man. Turning to Gaz you nod.

“You take Simon and get the gear ready. We’re leaving tomorrow first thing.”

“Copy, Ma’am.”

Ghost pats your skull once before disappearing, “Keep your head on, Lion.” 

The door once more closes, and silence overtakes the small room. Taking a deep breath that fills you with a wave of ease – even if for a moment – you focus on the second big problem after a brief second to close your eyes and think. 

Johnny.

He avoids your gaze; fidgets with his hands more than he usually does. The men of the 141 were dear to you and in a way, the entirety of it was a big family of people who really didn’t belong anywhere but with each other. You cared about them more than you cared about yourself – one of them was your husband, but the rest were your brothers. 

“You remember when I took a metal rod right through my lower leg?” You begin, hobbling closer and nearly laughing when the man takes a step forward to help with a grimace set on his lips. You raise a hand to stop him, “In Egypt about two summers ago?”

“You shoved me out of the way and got hurled through a window by a bastard with a knife, Hen. Landed in an industrial yard,” You stop a foot or two from him, attempting to get his attention while he stares at his feet and mutters like a kicked dog, “Yeah. Remember it clear as day. Price nearly had my head – knew right here that he was gonna marry you.”

The comment warms your heart.

“Did I ever blame you for standing near that window, Johnny?” You ask softly, tilting your head and catching his eye as he clenches his jaw in thought. The scar on the pale skin moves, and his stubble bunches.

“Never, Ma’am.”

“Then why would I ever blame you for an explosive that went off spontaneously – one that you didn’t even build in the first place?” 

He stays silent at that, but his head slowly rises to face yours fully. You had never seen him look so guilty before, those blue eyes of his so hopeless.  

“I couldn’t get ‘em out,” Soap whispers and before you know it you’re grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into an embrace, “I left him behind. How could I…?”

There was still blood on him, stuck in the makeup of his flesh like large bruises; dried, yes, but you nonetheless felt it. You found, though, that at that second, it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. The Sergeant’s arms hesitantly wrap around you and when you feel him press forward with his weight, your form loses tension. 

“No one blames you, Johnny,” He's shaking when you tell him, “No one. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Price,” Your throat tightens, “John knows how to handle himself, you know he would never be mad at you for retreating.”

Soap wetly laughs and places his chin on the top of your head; playing it off with a chuckle as the minutes stretch on, “I’ll just have to believe you then, Lion. Who’s to say I can go against my superior?”

Your arms tighten around him as a snort meets air, “You say that and when we get the real Captain back, I might not want to give up the position. The power’ll go straight to my head.”

“And it hasn’t already? Now that’s surprising, I could have sworn you were telling the others what to do not a second ago.”

There he was. 

—

“I’m just saying, John, Fantasy beat out Nonfiction as a genre,” You shake your head, bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and sipping. Over the rim, you watch the Brit toss his beanied head to the side in disbelief.

“Negative, Dear,” The Café was mostly empty today, considering that it was so late at night you were surprised it was still open and that it was a Tuesday, “I’ll agree to disagree.”

“Name me one Nonfiction book that beats ‘The Hobbit,’ hm?” Your eyebrow raises and you place the cup down, “That’s right – you can’t!” 

“‘The Guns of August’ to name one,” John raises a large brow, “do you want me to continue, Love? I’ve got quite the long list.” 

It was one of the rare moments when the two of you had Leave together – once in a blue moon. These moments were so special it became tradition to spend every moment together despite the wounds or the fatigue. You both had just gotten back from an Op and rushed to change into civilian clothes and clean up together before leaving.

Admittingly, the shower took a bit longer than expected, but who could blame the two of you for taking advantage of a chance to please one another? 

Across the table, your lover smirks, and you see his eyes dip to ogle the hickeys and beard burn on your neck with satisfaction. Under the table, you reel back a foot and kick his shin. Not hard, of course, but the message was received.

“Bloody Hell!” He sputters, looking back to glare comedically at you. His black athletic shirt was tight around his chest, making his muscles writhe under the fabric from where one arm sat over the back of his chair. You could imagine where you left nail marks down those abs of his; how his face had looked as you straddled his waist and used him.

“Don’t look so smug, bastard,” Your lips pull into an imitation of an annoyed frown, “Gaz is gonna make fun of me when we get back. I had a hard enough time trying to hide them when we were leaving!”

“Garrick?” John grunts from across the small table and the warm lights flicker above the two of you. His lips set forth a small smile, pulling his cheeks back and crinkling his eyes. The corner seat was the best in the café – allowing both privacy and a view of the windows and doors. Some things would just never die in the two of you, it seemed, “The Muppet can’t even pin you in drills, Sweetheart. If he teases you, just kick his legs out from under ‘em.”

“Encouraging violence between peers is not Captain behavior, Love. What would Laswell say?”

John grunts, “I couldn’t give a damn, Dear.”

While you roll your eyes and try to hide the adoring smile ripping open your skin at the man’s chuckle, you take notice of the street outside as time moves on. Staring out, your soft gaze dances over the illuminated areas of the street lights, finding old architecture and simply enjoying the scenery for what it was. When you were in the field, it was hard to take in the sights around you through the gun battles and tense situations; being able to take your time and admire was a gift. A calm silence falls over the café, and John hums gingerly from ahead of you as his knee brushes yours under the table.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” Blinking, you connect your eyes with his lovely blues. 

The way he’s looking at you leaves your lungs tight, lashes fluttering over your cheeks as heat alights. His body had moved forward, hands and elbows on the table and leaning forward to gaze at you in reverence. 

“John?” Your eyebrows turn in, lips flicking to a gentle expression of giddy embarrassment.

“Shh, Love,” He mutters, tilting his head to stare at you as your fingers fix the weight of his lent brown leather jacket over your shoulders, “Let me admire my wife, yeah? She gets lovelier every second.”

In your own little world, your head is floating as your eyes stay locked on an ocean with flecks of silver and storms. The air is thick, and around the leather, your fingers twitch with a want to embrace him; pull at the fabric of his shirt and rip him into a kiss over the table. Your heart skips beats.

Where was this coming from? You want to ask, but all that comes out is a huff as you tear your half-lidded eyes away.

“You’re making me all shy,” You grumble cheeks hot and on fire under the flesh. Your lips try to restrain a giggle, but your chest is too tight to hold anymore.

“That’s my job, that is. No use tryin’ to stop me now; you’re stuck with me.”

“I will kick you again,” You emphasize as fire burns down your neck and ears, heart suddenly too big for your body.

“Hm, I’d let you.”

“J-Johnathan Price!”

His chest-shaking laughter is contagious in the best possible way.

—

He remembers the explosion and then nothing more. It was like a ball of fire, carried on the wind before Soap even had the time to call out a detonation time; the device went off in the deep tunnels after the order had already been given to fallback. The fire was too heavy – you had taken a blade to the thigh and that had been it. John had called it off immediately.

Just when he and Soap were about to rush to the exit, the bomb went off without call or meaning. The tunnels were part of an old wine cellar – the target had converted them to be a quick back exit if anything went wrong and he needed to disappear. 

The entire purpose of John taking Soap with him was to collapse the long stretches of rock and wooden support beams; to box Aarre Virtanen in the mansion like a bear in a trap but, of course, these missions could never go simply. 

He remembers the explosion, and then nothing more. 

The pressure of rock on his chest and gripping hands. Was Soap the one yelling at him to wake up? Shoving off the debris and ripping at his gear with grunted breaths? The barked orders were getting closer from all over.

Muppet, he should have just run. 

But then the heavy presence had disappeared, and John knew he had been left behind; his thoughts, before it all left him, were only of you. How would you take it? The fact that he wasn’t coming home with you was sure to induce you into a rampage of gritted teeth and hurled curses. That was, perhaps, the worst thing that could happen. He prayed for one simple thing – that, no matter what, the boys would convince you to hold back. 

And then he woke up in the room.

It was small; barren of anything besides the chair John was tied to. Under his feet was a drain, the silver metal glinting as the chilling overhead light cascaded down and left him blinking rapidly to push back the instinctual tears gathering in his ducts. As John moves his neck, it pops, making his jaw clench even as the bones ache deep under the layers of black and blue flesh.

His whole body hurts.

Blood is dried over his skin, and the world around him pulses as the stab of broken bones moves inside of him. 

Concussion, He assesses, moving his wrists under the tight hold of rope from where they’re restricted behind his back; tied to the back of the metal seat. Still unable to focus his eyes, he continues to go down the list of injuries, broken ribs, John sucks in a sharp breath when he attempts to rotate his left ankle, and broken Fibula and Tibia. Bruises and lacerations everywhere…shit.

But were you alright? Was the knife wound treated, wherever you were? Did Mactavish get out?

Groaning deep in his throat, the Captain shakes his head, noticing immediately the familiar weight of his gear was absent – his bucket hat and night-vision rig are gone as are the combat vest and M13. But under his shirt, one item is still there, pressed into his skin deeply. 

Golden metal. The wedding band. At the very least, that item could bring him a sliver of comfort.

Narrowing his eyelids and scrunching his large nose, a bead of blood travels down a gash above his eyebrow. 

“Fucken’ hell,” John growls, grunting and groaning as he forces his neck to right itself, lower body jerking forward to help relieve the pressure on his midsection. 

Finally, the water over his eyes dissipates like a wave in the ocean and his ears cease ringing. But the buzzing of the light quickly takes its place and his nose twitches at the stench of black mold and gore. Everything was concrete – the walls, floors. Blinking, John’s eyes quickly snap around the room to take it all in; trying to find the weak points that may come in handy later. 

There was only one door and no windows. When the Brit tried the rope around his wrists he found it was bound incredibly tight, even making the skin irritated at the slightest movement.

“Bloody bastard,” The Captain weakly mutters under his breath, shuffling in his seat, “First you stab my wife then you tie me up, is that it?” 

Struggling does nothing but serve to make John angrier, and the pain can easily be thrown to the side when his thoughts run to you. They always did, but now more than ever, considering he didn’t know if you had also gotten captured and were only a concrete barrier away.

While he tries to force down the floating feeling of his brain, a sharp cough works its way from his mouth, jerking his body back and forth raggedly. John is so out of it that he missed the sound of the door opening, the violent squeaking of the metal hinges, and the scrape of concrete. Heavy shoes pound over the floor, and when the air finally returns to his rampaging lungs, blue eyes lock onto the man.

 Aarre Virtanen stands with his hands behind his back, a smug expression staining his perfect, unscathed, face. The Target wasn’t more than thirty, dressed in a nice expensive suit and dress shoes on his feet shining with more polish than Price could begin to wrap his head around. 

Muppet, The characterization was almost instantaneous, Pompous little Muppet. Lion would eat ‘em for bloody breakfast.

John raises a brow slowly as a dribble of blood slides down his nose and gets caught in his beard hairs. The two men stare at one another, eyes clashing. 

“I’d like to imagine,” Aarre smirks down at the Captain, “That whoever sent you planned on my life being forfeit. Unfortunately,” John has to stop himself from laughing in his face, “As you can see, Sir, I am very much alive.”

Narrowing his gaze, Price runs down the length of Aarre’s twig-like form – Not much of a Smuggler, is he? His picture made him look bigger.

But all that meant was that he had others to do the dirty work for him, and John knew that, whatever basement he was cramped into, was guarded heavily just beyond eyesight. 

The chances of escape were drawing up dry, and his tongue ran over his teeth. 

“The real question is, however,” The thin man speaks, coming closer with a careful step. Nose twitching, the Brit can smell the disgusting odor of violent perfume; his head rears back in disgust that the Smuggler takes as fear. Aarre leans closer, “Who might you be? Your little friends managed to slip my grasp, but we got that bitch in the thigh–”

John’s head moves forward so fast all that was seen was a blur, and soon after a cracking of a nose meets damp air. 

A muffled yell echoes off the cracked walls like a satisfactory reward to the Captain’s ears, and the brown-haired individual quickly shakes his head to the side to clear the bouncing of his skull.

Definitely a concussion. He hisses and rips at the bindings behind his back; all that gets him is bloody skin and blisters.

“You,” Aarre is stumbling backward, one hand grasping his broken and bleeding nose. Crimson splatters on the floor and ragged breathing rattle chests from both parties, quivering around the room, “You…p-pathetic little shit. Fuck!”

His tears only serve to make John smile, cheeks pulling back as a humorless chuckle enters the air. Feral satisfaction lives in his flesh.

“You better watch your language there, Mutt. It’s not proper to insult a lady who can’t be here,” John’s tone drops, nearly a growl as the deep rumble leaves a hunched over Aarre flinching back; the Captain’s teeth are bared like an animal. Feet sound off in the hallways – rushing boots booking it down a set of descending stairs, “To knock your fucken’ teeth in herself!” 

Blood spits from John’s lips at the hiss, and his limp feet over the floor slump to the side as his legs fall open, body raging forward as if he could break the restraints. He wanted to – wanted to bash this little bastard's skull against the floor until he was unrecognizable. 

How dare he say that? How dare he call you that?!

Pain could be shoved aside in this case, his anger was so overpowering when it came to you that it simply didn’t bother him. You defended him just as religiously, and John’s mind flies to glimpse a fast memory of you physically getting in the face of a man who had insulted him over some pointless football game at a bar. 

“You better mind your tone,” You had spoken slowly, face calm and the perfect example of hidden rage shimmering under the surface. The Brit watched from the corner of his eye with a smirk on his lips; not at all opposed to letting you pick your battles and feeling his heart skip beats when his title falls, “When speaking to my husband like that.” 

Aarre’s guards rushed through the door, guns held in hands, all immediately leveled on John’s head. 

“Don’t!” The target gasps out, slapping one of the barrels to the floor and straightening himself, “Don’t.”

A deep smirk spreads the still-falling stream of crimson over the sides of his lips; the brown-haired man’s muscles are tense, stringing him up like a wire or a snake ready to strike. Torture was elementary to him, he’d gone through it all before and none of it had ever worked. He could take it, as long as you were far away from here.

“He’s going to have a buyer,” John’s eyes minutely widened in surprise, caught off guard, “Prep him for the flight to Poland. Don’t bother being gentle…the staff won’t mind if he comes in a bit damaged.”

—

Your fingers flinch forward as you shove the sapphire earring into your ear, the sharp point poking out the other end before you shove the backing on. Taking a deep breath, you feel the car under you bounce right as you ask your question.

“Gaz?” Lips thinning, you look through the limo’s glass separator and grimace at the man’s reflection in the mirror, “Are you sure no one knows what we look like? No one at the mansion saw our faces?”

“Lion, I’m promising you – it was too dark, and we were moving too fast for ‘em to get a clear picture.”

“Hm,” You grunt, flattening out the brown fur jacket over your form-fitting gown. The navy blue color was deep, reminding you of a Lapis Lazuli stone with veins of silver reflected in the jewelry around your throat and wrists. 

Poland was cold this time of year, and as the expensive buildings whizzed past just outside the glass, your breath created condensation. 

You were nervous, heeled feet shuffling over the tufted floor of the vehicle and sucking down slow breaths as a way to slow your heart. It had been a week without John at your side, and all the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the bags that had sprouted under your eyes; sleep had come in bouts of quick fatigue but then left just as swiftly. Your body wouldn't relax – couldn’t – until your husband was right beside you once more. 

And if he was already dead…

Your hand goes to itch at your neck, catching on the necklaces, one specifically, before you force it back down with quivering effort. Attempting to shake out your head, your ribs suddenly feel like they’re strangling your organs, and all you want to do is take off this damn dress.

Kyle utters your name from the driver’s seat, and when you blink over to look at him, you find his eyes already staring back.

“When I went missing in the Congo – you raised hell to go and find me,” He tells you, focus flicking back and forth from the road to you, “If anyone can get intel on Price and bring him back, Love, it’s you. He’ll be just fine until then, yeah? Bloke’s probably already out and rushing to get back to you.”

“Think so?” Your lips form a smile, and on your forehead, a brow raises. John was stubborn, there was certainly a chance he was already free.

“Know so, Ma’am. Just you wait and see.” Snorting, you return to looking out the window, breath now noticeably more even. 

There weren't many people who could make you keep a conscience; when you worked alone before 141 it was because no one else could keep up with your spontaneous plans or ideas. You were described in your file as a quick-witted and cunning nuisance for anyone on the opposite end of your weapon – whether that be your tongue or an actual gun just depended on the Op. But John and the other boys were more of a good influence than a bad one; in many ways, they were just the same as you. 

Sometimes it felt nice to have people that understood you. Your actions, the small tics that gave away how you were feeling. No one else could do it like Task Force 141, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The rest of the ride was silent, and soon the city was peeling back to show off more extravagant houses with iron gates and cobblestone walkways. Properties the size of football fields take up your view, and your eyes blink at the extravagance; all you can’t help but wonder about is if the people that live there even know how many rooms they have.

When Gaz makes the final turn onto Aarre Virtanen’s land, you suck down a deep breath. 

There were so many lights that the night sky is nearly re-illuminated with a bath of warmth – the people already inside can be heard out in the air, a chorus of phantoms just beyond eyesight who sing with alcoholic breath and gasp down smoke. You had been to many parties to infiltrate high-level organizations, but never had the stakes been so high. 

Or so illegal. 

When the car in front of you pulls out of the roundabout driveway, Garrick pushes on the gas to take its place. A moment of steel silence rings. 

“Earpiece?” Gaz reminds softly, and you nod in response, tapping the appendage on your right side.

“Earpiece.”

“Alright…The rest of us’ll be listening – I’ll circle ‘round and be inside in an hour and Ghost is already there. He’s the waiter wearing the silver Jackal mask serving champagne near the back window. If anything goes wrong, Soap’s our sniper on the roof of the neighbor's house. Say the word and he starts popping shots to give you an exit.”

“Affirm,” Your hand is already reaching for the door, but the man stops you one last time with your name. You find his creased eyes in the mirror, brown a deep shade of concern.

“...You look beautiful, Love, Yeah? I’m sorry the Cap. isn’t here to see you like this – he’d lose his damn mind. Go all slack-jawed and trip over his own feet; God, I’d pay to see that.”

Lips delicately slide into a smile, and your face heats at the compliment. Letting out a light chuckle, you whisper, “I’ll see you in an hour, Sergeant.” 

“Count on it. Stay out of trouble ‘till then?”

“Trouble? Since when have I ever gotten into trouble?” When you sneak out the door, a light chuckle bounces off the doors before they close, and your heels click against the ground like nails on a desk. 

With a bitter determination entering your blood, your expression eases into a look of smug superiority as you begin to move forward and ascend the steps in front of the mansion. 

Virtanen was inside those doors, and your ears twitch, listening to Gaz peel the car away into the night; plucking out the forged invitation from your jacket pocket, you can’t help but call John forward to memory. Carefully maneuvering your way up the last flight of stairs, you reach the doors and imagine your husband right behind you, clothed in a suit and tie like the one he wore to your wedding, waiting to take you by the arm and lend you strength. 

Keep me aware, You want to ask his phantom, Make me see the hidden details so I can bring you home to me. 

Invitation in hand – which Ghost had to go through quite the killing spree to get accurate – your lips flick into an easy smirk.

Your silver tongue would come in handy tonight, but you hoped you weren’t too tired to miss important social cues. You needed to figure out where John was by tonight, or there was the possibility of losing him forever. Aarre Virtanen was the target yet again, and you would do whatever was necessary to get information to spill from his mouth like prayers; the party was an obvious front to impress buyers. 

And you could play that part quintessentially. 

“Hello, Handsome,” Purring, you move fluidly, body swaying as you come to a stop, letting your fur jacket slip down around your elbows and display a delicious amount of skin around your adorned neck, “So sorry you’re stuck out here in the cold, I can’t imagine what a bore it’s been.”

The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, eyes wide as they bore into your form from behind a silver mask depicting a bird of prey. His eyes slip, and a very audible swallowing of saliva makes his throat jerk – the poor individual's face was undoubtedly beet-red, seen extending down his neck and ears. 

“I-It’s really no problem, Ma’am,” He stutters, grabbing the slip of paper from your outstretched hand and barely opening it before he shoves it back into your chest, “You’re all good! Please, enjoy the hospitality of Sir Aarre Virtanen to the fullest of your abilities.”

“Why,” You show an all-teeth smile, “I’m sure I will.” 

Slipping through when he opens the door, a woman in a cat mask offers to take your jacket to the coatroom, which you agree to immediately, and disappears a second later. 

“Did you just flirt with the doorman, Hen?” Soap’s voice nearly startles you, but with a subtle flick of your hair, you play off the flinch as you step through the extensive foyer; slipping past other well-dressed individuals to make it to the ballroom, “Tch, naughty, naughty.”

“You’d be surprised,” You mutter and send a polite smile to a man who ogles your form, his eyes boring into your flesh, “How fast people can look over an invitation if you give them an incentive. Simon’s forger misspelled the street name.”

“Bloody fucken’ bastard,” Ghost growls lowly under the line. 

“So vulgar, Simon,” You smirk, waltzing into the marble-floored ballroom and clearing yourself a path with wide eyes and stares, “We’re at a party. Aren’t you excited?”

“You’re not the one holding a damn plate of champagne, Little Lion. Feelin’ like I might bash someone over the head if they wave me over with a fucken’ finger again. Like I’m some damn mutt.”

Stifling a deep laugh, your fingers splay over your lips, “Easy, boy. Don’t go barking up the wrong tree.”

All you hear in return is a grumble and a muffled giggle from Soap. Gaz is most likely scrambling to get his tux on and tie a bowtie like how you taught him on the far street corner back in the city. Slowly, but surely, it was coming together. 

Soon, You tell yourself and imagine a steady hand splayed over your back; digging into your skin.

“Excuse me?” A presence slips up to your left, and you turn with a slow head and an even slower smile. Already, your cheeks were hurting from the constant fake expression.

“Oh, hello, Love,” It’s a man who wears an all-black outfit, fitted with silver buttons and a red pocket square, “How can I help you?”

“That’s one of the target’s guards,” Soap slithers out over the line, “Saw ‘em scheming not five minutes ago near the snack bar.” 

“I was wondering if such a beautiful woman might not humor me. I’m in desperate need of company for the auction later this evening.” Your smile turns deadly, a glint forming in your eye that should have deterred anyone who saw it – but sometimes people overlook the snake in the grass if it’s pretty, regardless of its fangs. 

Getting close to this man got you close to Aarre. Your hand reaches up to caress the wedding ring on its chain.

“Well, how could I say no to such a dashing man? But you must tell me, where did you purchase your tux? My brother has been looking for one that looks the same; you understand, of course, the kind that hugs the body just right…”

—

“You’re a fucken’ minx, you are,” John moans under you, hips sputtering and jaw clenched. He’s panting as you finally slip off of him, choosing to collapse to the bed just by his side with a breathy sigh. Your legs are still shaking, but the deep-rooted ache of pleasure takes hold in your lower body nonetheless.

Chuckling while sucking down breaths, you smirk and turn your head to the side, finding deep blue already digging into your skin despite the glaze over the orbs. Perspiration leaks down his flushed forehead, getting caught in the hairs of his eyebrow before you reach up, and flick it away with a firm finger.

“And you’re a lousy bottom, Captain, how many times did I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” You ask, eyeing the way the brown strands of John’s hair stick up at odd angles with growing amusement. He looked like a porcupine, “You don’t listen very well. I’ll have to fix that.”

“Damn woman,” He groans, turning his head away with a huff escaping his lips. Your ears twitch when he cracks his neck, stifling a chortle behind your fingers as he levels you with an unamused look, “Need to figure out a way to tire you out quicker. Gettin’ too old for this.”

“Hm,” Rolling your eyes, you shift till you’re laying on your stomach, legs sliding over the ruffled sheets, “I like you like this. Just perfect.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my hips, Love.” Now that really gets a laugh out of you, hiding your face down in the covers for a moment and feeling John’s eyes lovingly gracing down the curve of your spine.

Reaching over, your fingers grab onto the bare skin of his toned thigh and pinch.

Grunting in surprise, the Captain’s hand snaps to your wrist and grasps it as your giggles fill the air with softness. You turn your head up and rest your chin on your free hand, looking over and letting your eyes wash down John’s physique; a primal sense of possessiveness leaks into you when you know no one else gets to see him like this. The nail marks track down his pecks, over his abs and deliciously lower atop his navel, and over his neck and collarbone is the fresh array of black and blue hickeys. Just like you, his heart was still racing, seen moving under the skin.

He looked positively, beautifully, wrecked. The Captain’s eyes never left yours, side-eyeing you with a half-open mouth. A small sigh leaves his red lips.

“C’mere,” John mutters, and you squeak when his grip is suddenly pulling you right up next to his chest so that you were more than half lying on top of him. 

Moaning out in contentment when you feel his heat leak into you, your body goes limp against the man; leg thrown over his upper thigh. Eyelashes flutter over your cheek when his large hand keeps you against him, settling on your ass heavily. He squeezes gently in payback for the pinch, and you smile, knowing he can feel it against his chest by the way he purrs like a cat as you press a kiss to his sweat-slick flesh.

The moment of content silence leads long, but just when your eyelids are nearing their final shut is when you hear it, muttered on teeth-bitten lips for the first time, though it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Love you, my Sweet Girl,” John mutters deeply into the air, but you’re already drowned in sleep, satisfied and more at ease than ever before.  

But no matter, he’d just tell you again in the morning; make you say the same as he gripped your hips and used his tongue for more…carnal types of confessions. 

You had no idea at that moment, but two years from that day, you’d both be married. Husband and wife in every sense – bonded and promised to each other until the sun and moon collided; till every city burned and only dust remained. 

There was really no other pair so carefully crafted than the two of you. 

—

“Here you are, Lovely,” The guard, whose name is Mikael, hands you a champagne glass as you both stride forward to the bidding room. It had been two hours of entertaining this man – dancing, flirting, brushing off compliments that made you want to hurl – but none of that mattered. No matter the cost, you would see this done with a smile and a knife through Virtanen’s eye.

“Thank you,” You sing, toasting with him and taking a slow sip. The liquid sits bitterly in your stomach, a rock that bounces around with every clipped step. 

Choosing back-row seats, you sit in what could be described as a theater of sorts and place the glass on the floor. There was a large stage at the front, with rows upon rows of plush chairs.

How many people are here to buy smuggled contraband? You can’t help but wonder silently, eyes wide as more and more people flood through the doors.

“Do you usually get so many buyers?” Asking Mikael sweetly, you keep your gaze moving, filing every face into the back of your mind for later. 

His hand moves to rest on the back of your seat, and you have to hold back a grimace, “This is more than the last times, but, uh…well,” Sensing hesitation, you shift closer and peer up into his eyes, blinking innocently and smiling.

“Well…what?” 

You swore you heard Soap gag over the line and soon after a sharp shushing sound. At your side, Mikael’s expression gets giddy, pupils dilating as his vision darts down to your dress before righting itself. 

“My boss has got something good tonight – a new piece of merchandise that everyone wants to get their hands on. Apparently, some people here have been waiting for a score like this for years.”

“Oh?” Wondering aloud, you lean back out of Mikael’s hold with a furrowed brow and ignore his light huff of annoyance in your ear. 

Narrowing your eyes, you scrunch your nose at the thought.

‘New piece of merchandise?’ What the hell could that mean? The target mostly specializes in weapons – certain ones that are manufactured so that they can’t be traced…what could be so new?

“It’s starting, here,” The guard whispers as the lights dim, and hands you a golden-colored bid paddle designed with lace-like designs. You twirl it in your hands with an unimpressed look.

“How pompous can this guy get?” You mutter under your breath and startle when Ghost’s voice pipes up.

“Get me a new G18, yeah? Johnny lost my last one.” Resisting the sudden urge to cover up your face and hide your smile, you lightly hum in the back of your throat.

“I did not!” Soap starts a ruckus as the Auctioneer comes onto the stage, and you ignore the fast man’s voice as he begins a bid for a stack of RPGs – wheeled out in a crate by three other individuals in animal masks – in favor of the amusing argument, “I told ya’ where you could blood find it.”

“It was in the middle of an active war zone, MacTavish.”

“You’ve never complained about it before, ya’ bawbag. Canny be my fault if you don’t go an’ get it.” The Scots accent gets more prominent as the Auctioneer sells the current merchandise to a couple sitting two rows down, “‘I lost it’...utter shite.”

Gaz groans and you see a shadow near the door, leaning on the wood from the corner of your eye. The badly presented bowtie gives away who it is – you’d have to have John teach him how to do it properly when you got him back.

“Would the two of you shut up? Bloody hell, I’m about to scream.” 

The bickering went on for a while, making your tight chest just a little looser. John would be proud of them. 

“Finally,” The Auctioneer calls out, yelling over the crowd, “The grand attraction for tonight – a product put forward by our esteemed host Mr. Virtanen!” 

Your body straightens, spine tensing, as Mikael tries to get your attention fruitlessly to talk about a product he won. You ignore the guard, watching with a unique type of hatred as the weasel of a man swishes his way on stage from behind the red curtain. Immediately all conversation in your ear is halted, and try as you might, a growl builds in your throat.

“Easy, Lion,” Simon mutters, but all you see is red; red around an expensive tux and a lithe form of the man who had stolen away your husband from you without thinking of the consequences. The bandages over his nose gives you cruel satisfaction that someone, whoever they were, had gotten a hit in.

You had half the mind to tell Soap to take the shot but knew that if you did, John would be lost forever. Your Captain had always said violence and timing were the most important aspects of a mission – you had to politely disagree. 

Ops could be accomplished without violence, though it was rare, it could still happen on occasion and timing was all relative. One person could say it was time to act while a million others disagreed; this was shown in your case. You wanted to rush the stage, tackle the thief, and beat his head in – Gaz, Soap, and Ghost would all disagree, of course, but that was because you were thinking only about John and nothing else. 

What really mattered was cunning and drive. You had the silver tongue, and you, without a doubt, had the drive to see this through. 

But nothing could have prepared you for what came next. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aarre Virtanen called out, his thin face ugly and punchable, “May I present the star of tonight's bidding wars – an esteemed and highly sought-after mystery man! Captain Jonathan Price!” 

The curtain rolled back, and, tied to a chair with a light shining above his head, was John. Beaten. Bloodied. Barely recognizable besides the tufts of his brown locks and the glittering of golden metal under the ragged remains of his clothes. You can see his wedding band around his neck, and you go to grip your own in a flashing second. There was so much blood. Your heart ceased working, body suddenly very numb and stone-still despite the heat in it, as if you had been shot in the throat and all you could do was gasp out in panic. And gasp you did. It was involuntary, instinctual, like you could feel every ounce of pain and agony that he was undoubtedly in deep in your own marrow. 

What?! 

A loud, horrified, sound rips from your throat; the air was hard to suck down as your hand snapped to your mouth, muffling the exclamation of terror. Your eyes are so wide you’re afraid they’ll pop out of their sockets as you lightly hunch into yourself like a bug.

“Now, now!” Aarre Virtanen continues over the muttering of the crowd, oblivious to your panic in the back row. Mikael is giving you strange looks, lightly pulling away from you in confusion at your reaction; you don't register any of it, “I know what you’re thinking, my lovely patrons, but I can say without a doubt that this man–” He points to the limp figure, “Is the one and only Johnathan Price! Do you want to know why?” The crowd cheers, and in that instant you want to torch the entire building and laugh as it burns to the ground, “Because he and his precious 141 tried to attack me on my own property! The idiot’s explosive went off before they could run!”

Over the ruckus of gleeful laughter, Soap on the line is hissing curses under his breath, voice heated and full of hatred. 

What I’m I supposed to do? Your mind’s running. For the first time in your career, you can’t focus clearly. Gaz is saying something in your ear, his shadow slinking closer step-by-step, and Ghost is nowhere to be seen or heard. 

Oh, John, You feel like crying, eyes running from one injury to another as if he were just a punching bag – his body was broken, but still, you knew he hadn’t given anything away. In the chair, you can see the small inhalations of his lungs, jumpy and shaking, but he was still breathing.

“How did they figure out his name?” Simon grunts over the line, and his tone is the only one unaffected by emotion, even if you could feel the anger wafting out and mirroring your own. 

His dog tags, You want to tell them, He keeps them in his vest pocket because he said he wanted to wear his wedding band instead. 

Your hand tightens over your matching piece, one half of a promise to protect one another even in the direst of circumstances. 

Freezing, you snap back into focus as the bidding starts with Aarre Virtanen laughing and clapping on stage like some demented jester. So be it. Your mind halts and a rage-induced calm encompasses you as your eyes stick like glue to John. Tossing the joke of a bid paddle at a startled Mikael’s lap and slipping past him, your heels connect with the floor with muffled thumps, carrying you down the middle of the aisle. 

“Ma’am–!”

“Lion, what in the bloody hell are you doing?!”

“Playing the game,” You growl over the chaos in the comm, “Gaz, find a way to get on stage from behind one of the curtains,” People are starting to turn and look at you now, accusing glances that bounce off you like flies, “Soap, have a line of sight of the target – do not let him stray from it no matter what. And Ghost,” Your heart is speeding when Virtanen’s gaze snaps to yours, expression blanking. John groans weakly from where his head is downturned, and you can’t help but take a shaky breath at the sound, “Go find out where they store the sold items. Find something that’ll come in handy. Take out anyone you need, I give full Execute Authority.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” They all say it at once, and the line goes silent not a second after, flipped off so everyone can remain focused. Steeling your body, you put on a cloak of indifference, even as your eyes bug and sweat stains your palms – the stakes had never been this high, and if you messed this up…

The both of you would be going home in body bags. 

If I had known he was going to be here, I would have come more prepared. A knife in a carry bag or a hairpin – Something. But John had stated before that he loved you for your intuition. 

You simply needed to move your pawn piece and hope it wasn’t in the way of a bishop.

Sliding over your husband's slumped body once more, you have to rip your gaze away, else your cover be blown and everything falls apart before it’s begun as a sting forms in the back of your nose.

Just a little longer, Love, just hold out a little bit longer.

The Auctioneer halts when you stand just below the slightly higher plateau of the platform, and Aarre digs into your body with his dead face, body bent to stare down at you. All around you, the world is deathly quiet. A minute…two…

“And who might this be?” Virtanen spits, lips pulling into a sneer as his eyes crinkle, “I don’t have to tell you, Dear, that all purchases are final.”

Don’t look at John. Don’t look at him. 

“You said this is Johnathan Price?” Your voice carries; it's stronger than you would have imagined, even as your legs shake, “Well, I don’t believe you.” You swore then that your Captain’s head moved slightly, his face turning to the side, but you can’t be sure. 

Gasps are hidden behind hands and handkerchiefs.

“...What?” The smug look on the man's face falls in an instant, just as you had hoped it would – Virtanen relied on his power; ego, and unquestioned superiority. What you had to do first was break it down to a point where he was frothing at the mouth, “What is it that you are implying? That I would…lie to my loyal customers?!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Your feet carry you away to the stairs, scaling them up to the stage and shoving past shell-shocked guards who didn’t know what to do, “Where’s the proof, Mr. Virtanen? I believe I would like to see it before I make any definitive financial choices. You could be selling us any stray British man you found on the street and we’d be none the wiser for it.”

There was a pause before a murmur of agreement from the crowd. 

Aarre gapes at you, mouth opening and closing as his face gains a red sheen, blood rushing to his head and making his eyes rapidly flutter from the guests to you. Swallowing down saliva, you saunter up to John, fingers shaking as they reach out to brush his arm. You nearly break when his flesh flinches and becomes tense, muscles writhing as you hook a finger under his chin all too aware of the eyes on you from every angle. It helps that one of them is Soap, though.

Looping the digit under him, John’s beard scratches your skin just like it always did when you ran your hands over his cheeks or around his square face. Moving his head up, your grip vibrates with anxiety when you’re finally able to take a full look at his visage. 

Please be okay, Love.

You can’t help the widening of your eyes when they lock on the bruises, the cuts, and scratches littering his large nose and forehead. His eyelids flutter over sunken cheeks, bags of severe color under his orbs as a rumble echoes in his battered chest.

Did they even feed him?

“I don’t – I don’t like what you’re implying, Miss!” The Target continues to prattle, but already your shoulders have squared, “I would never, in a million years, make such false claims–!”

When John’s eyes shutter open you seem to forget where you are entirely, head completely going silent off all fears or concerns. As the lids slide back, you notice one optic is bathed in red – the veins in the gentle sensory organ having been popped by relentless fists…but the other, oh, oh, the other. A shade so familiar it twists your lips and makes your heart clench. Storm gray; ocean blue, flecks of moonlight trapped just for you. 

John’s focus is blurry, his mind confused and in need of a dark room with a glass of chilled whiskey to put on his forehead, but...that finger under his chin. His gaze narrows, lips pulling tight under his beard hairs as a shadow stands in front of him. Why did it feel so familiar? So…warm? 

“John?” A soft voice graces his ears, leaving them twitching as his arms burn more than a thousand suns, “John, please, look at me.” 

His face scrunches, eyebrows turning in. Blinking, the man only succeeds for a few moments, consciousness so rapidly fading because of the wear on his body, but a few moments was all he needed. 

It was you – looking at him with terrified eyes, mouth slightly parted in awe. John’s heart skips beats. 

She’s here? He questions, weakly moving his arms to try and embrace her before the rope stops his bloodied and shredded hands, Why? How? And…oh hell, is that a dress?

Blinking at the navy gown, his eyes widened at the heavenly sight in front of him. Was he dead? No, he realized, you wouldn’t be here if he was. But that was the only option to see something like this in front of him when he was where he currently was. 

“L-love?” He gasps out, letting his full weight fall into your hold. 

Your hand brushes over his beard, tangling in the bristles and flinching at the open wounds that you find. 

“It’s me,” You whimper, “I’m right here.” 

If possible, he gravitates toward you even more.

“--Are you even listening?!” Aarre Virtanen yells, and people are standing from their seats out in the crowd, calling out in confusion. 

John murmurs out comments from under your grip, but they’re so weak you can’t make them out as he nuzzles your limb. From the corner of your eye, a figure rustles one of the stage curtains, held back in the shadows.

“I’m here,” Gaz says a second before Simon does.

“I found something that might come in handy...When I throw it, get Price out of there and take cover.”

“Soap?” You ask, voice low and gaining a sheen of ice. Slowly, your head tilts to the side, gripping your husband by the back of the head and drawing him to your stomach, caressing his scalp through his hair as he sighs into your dress.

“Yes, Ma’am?” 

“Take it.”

“...With pleasure.” The ear-ringing shot fires off, breaking glass and rustling half-drawn curtains, but it meets its mark with expert precision. 

Aarre Virtanen’s head pops like a balloon, and a moment later a smoke bomb is being chucked from halfway across the room by a Jackal-masked waiter with a strong arm. Before the guards can even get to their pistols around their thighs, Gaz has rushed through the smoke and sliced John’s bonds with a serrated cake knife. Both of you grab your Captain by one of his arms and drag him off to the side, disappearing just as the first screams wail out. 

The 141 works like a well-oiled machine, and not five minutes later everyone is in the limo that Gaz had re-driven and parked down the dark roads of Poland, rushing off as you press table cloths against your husband’s leaking cuts. Tears dribble down your cheeks, with large hiccuped gasps as you lean over John – who could only barely keep his eyes open to look at you as Soap and Ghost watch anxiously from their seats. 

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, y’know that,” You sob out, practically sitting on top of him to stop the crimson leaking over the cushions, “I need to keep a bell on you, my Love.”

Your wedding band sways just above his face, and his own glints below you, bunched on his collarbone.

“Go on,” He says in a low voice, eyes incredibly soft but still distant in a way that told you he was concussed. It was a miracle he was even conscious if you could admit it to yourself.

The man’s shaking hand travels to your cheek, brushing away tear tracks only to leave blood stains behind instead. He pulls away slightly, staring at the mark in disgust as his complexion gets even paler. Snapping your grip up, you bring it back, making him cup your flesh in his big hands and splay his fingers over your ear and weave into your hair. 

John hums under his breath, “Beautiful.”

Then he goes limp, and you start screaming.

—

Stripping your face of makeup, you step into the shower with only your necklace on, letting the water slap against your head as you take a deep breath in. You lean forward, letting your head connect with the porcelain of the hospital’s washroom as your body begins to shake – finally allowed to fall apart and feel the genuine horror that had lived in you for a week straight.

John was just a door away in the hard bed of some random hospital Gaz had driven to. Quite recklessly, you should mention, but it’s not like it mattered. 

Ghost was on the phone with Laswell, getting a protection detail in case anyone attempted to break into the room and stab someone with a scalpel, while Gaz and Soap also got ready for sleep. No one was leaving the hospital tonight. Garrick had explained the situation in broken Polish to the local authorities, and the staff was kind enough to give out a free office room with pillows and blankets. It was a good thing that the room was connected to John’s, otherwise, you might have refused…even if the bags under your eyes threatened to block your line of sight.

Wiping blood and grime from your body, you take less time than you should have in the shower – too occupied with being by your husband's bedside. The new stitches on your recently ripped-open thigh wound were red with irritation, but you had all but forgotten about it entirely. 

They had only just gotten John stable an hour ago. 

“They, uh,” Gaz’s eyelids crease, “I think they said that they had to re-” He halts, face going slack, and sending you a slow look, “restart his heart.”

“They nearly beat him to death,” You whisper, hands coming up to weave over the top of your head as you sob into the wall, “They…God, John. I was nearly too late.” 

Your words trail off in a weak whimper, muffled over the sound of water and the whirring fan in the ceiling. What if you had been five minutes late? Three? Would he have…

Would he have died in your arms?

You spend the rest of the shower wondering, and as you dry yourself off and slip into sweats and a hoodie from the gift shop, your tears splatter the floor. Rubbing your nose, you sniffle; reaching to grab the ring and pull the chain out above the fabric. Your fingers caress the item for a minute or two, and your eyes flutter shut. 

He’s okay, You tell yourself, He’s just a door away. He’s alive.

You open the door and let the steam waft, itching at your neck before you take a steadying breath. John lays still on the hospital bed, body hooked to machines that display screens and vital signs with glitching green lights that pierce your eyes as if a mocking little beast was behind the glass. 

Your husband’s wounds are all stitched and glued back together; wrapped tightly and tucked in by your gentle hands with an extra blanket. He usually complained about how cold it was back at your shared flat in London and around the multiple bases the Force traveled to…you would hate for him to shiver here. 

It was the least you could do.

Drawing your eyebrows in, the red ring around your eyes doesn’t help the sting, but still, you gaze at your husband with all the tender concern in the world. 

If was determined, then, that you wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was awake; until you saw his eyes soften on your figure. Until he was tracing the very makeup of your genetics like no other being could even have a glimpse of you in their features – like the aspects of your form were holy and utterly unique, never seen besides out of legend and fable. You longed to bathe his flesh in the feeling of your touch. If you believed it hard enough, you could convince yourself that you could make him forget this ordeal, forget the wounds. 

But you were no fool. A cunning nuisance, perhaps, but not a fool. 

All you could do was wait for him to wake up, and so your socked feet carry over the tile and bring you to the chairs beside the bed, grabbing one and pulling it out. Your fingers intertwined with his, weaving the calloused pads and scared flesh that mirrored your own like an echo of history together. 

Bringing his limb to your face, you rest your forehead on it, feeling the pump of his blood like a hymn and letting it calm you. A presence in the room makes your once closed eye crack open, slipping to the side. You had only just noticed him.

I really must be tired.

“Doctors say he’s stable,” Gaz mutters lowly, leaning against the wall in the far corner. It was like he had known you wanted someone to watch John while you couldn’t – even if only for a few minutes, “They came in while you were showering” 

Your lungs inflate, “...Thank you, Kyle.” 

You feel his eyes on you, but as you lay a gentle kiss on your husband's knuckles he speaks once more.

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest, Love? It’s late, y’know – sun’s gonna come up in a few hours around here.” It was a nice concern, and you knew that after Ghost’s call with Laswell that he’d get some sleep as well; Johnny was already snoring away, the sound nearly heard through the walls. 

Gaz, well…

“And am I to expect my Sergeant to get some rest if I do that?” Your voice is hoarse and weighed down, but the message is clear. The man lets out a chuckle, pushing off the wall and coming over to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you lean into it.

“I have no problem watching over him for you – he’s my Captain too, Lion. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you have to carry the burden more than the rest of us.”

If you could have rolled your eyes, you would have. A teasing tone sneaks into your words as you snort.

“Gaz, and I mean this in the best possible way,” Your lips utter out, still gazing at John’s face as it scrunches and twitches in his sleep, “Respectfully, fuck off, yeah?”

A moment of silence passes before a thick laugh echoes out over the room.

“You act a lot like Cap. when he’s out of commission, Ma’am.”

“Of course I do,” Your grip travels up John’s arm, tracing old blemishes and kissing across bruises, “If he brings all the hard-headedness away with him, none of you lot would get anything done.”

An easy air keeps the both of you in a tight embrace and Garrick’s hand squeezes for a moment; a piece of you breaks open as your gaze slips to the floor.

“I’ll take the night shift. Please, I…,” Your voice borders on unheard, “I can’t sleep until he’s awake.”

He sighs but nods his head.

“Say no more. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you just come get me, yeah? Don’t worry if you have to be loud – been trying to get used to waking up abruptly anyways.” His hand disappears, and you huff.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. You better.” Gaz’s feet carry him away and through the side door, slipping into the office. A rustling of thin cotton is heard a moment later before the door completely closes on its own. 

You stay in that chair for another hour and a half before John moves an inch. When you feel his finger twitch you jerk up, drool falling from your chin to the sheets before you wipe it off.

“John?” Breathing out a gasp, you shake your head to focus better, and pause when his hold on your hand suddenly gains strength. Your heart soars.

“...Love,” He grunts out, face scrunched, and tense. 

At that moment you swear your body loses all weight, and you pull the chair closer as you wetly speak.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here. D-don’t move too much, just let the painkillers work.”

“Bloody things make my damn head lose,” He groans, head falling to the side on the pillow as his eyes flutter open. 

You place his knuckles to your lips to hide the shuttered breath you take when you see his eyes – even if one was still red. It was still your John. 

He looks at you for a moment, eyes glazed, with his jaw clenching and unclenching to gain bearing. The covers hide his chest, but you hear the way he breathes as his messed-up bedhead leaves you chuckling. But the longer you were chuckling, the more you wanted to cry, and soon nothing could stop the swell of vile sobs falling from your mouth. 

“Oh,” John whispers out, voice weak as his digits twitch under your shaking lips, “C’mere, Love. None of that, now.” 

Your body falls forward, and the man hides the grunt in his chest when you unintentionally hit his ribs as you burrow closer into his side. He doesn’t mind. John’s hand goes to the back of your head, weaving through the strands as the covers catch your tears – he’s looking down at you with such blatant worry it hurts. 

He shouldn’t be worried about me, look what happened. He’s in the fucking hospital.

“Y-You,” You’re gasping for breath, chest tight and vibrating. ‘Take a breath’ it tries to tell you, but getting the words out was more important. John’s hand gets tighter, and he longs to kiss your forehead, “I didn’t know if you were dead, a-and then when they had you on stage I was trying so hard to keep it together, John. But…but then you were bleeding all over the car and I was screaming at you too–”

“Breathe,” Your husband pleads, authority leaking into the comment, “Please, Dear, take a breath for me, Yeah? I’m right here.” 

You weep but do as he says, feeling the muscles under your grip move as he shifts his weight. Taking a deep breath, your nose is shoved into the fabric of the blankets, inhaling John’s scent and letting it encompass you entirely. 

He was there. He was right there. 

Letting out one last whine, your Captain prompts you to lift your head with a muted brush of his finger over your scalp. Pulling yourself up, you scrunch the bedding in your hands around John’s waist, practically leaning all the way over him. It was a good thing the bed wasn’t too high. 

He smiles softly down at you, his grip moving to slip past your eyebrow and swipe away the salty water that itches your chin, “There she is. My beautiful wife”

Your watery chuckle wraps him in more warmth than any blanket ever could. 

“Do you need anything?” You mutter after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes, head tilting to the side as your heart rate finally slows to a pace that copies John’s. 

One of your hands goes to smooth his hair, carefully flattening down the patches and being mindful of the bandages and band aids over his visage. You swear he purrs at you, body rumbling under your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, instead focusing on mapping out your face – as if for the first time. But when he does speak he brushes off the question entirely.

“I had a dream.”

“A good one?” You ask immediately, voice equally as low and vulnerable as his. In his orbs, you see stars blinking with every movement, deep hues of blue in every shade.

“Hm,” He affirms, a slow smile blossoming on his lips, “You were there.”

“That, my love, could mean many things.”

“No. Only one, Mrs. Price,” Your eyebrows raise, eyes watering as rogue drops tracks fall down your cheeks once more. 

It was all so much. Getting him back; seeing him like this, having him talk to you like that again – with all the love in the world. He was beaten, but alive, and already awake beside the gargantuan odds.

But you didn’t marry him just because you thought he was buff and could give you a good time. You married him because he was John, and no one else could be.

John’s gaze washes over you, narrowed in that expression he always had on his face when he’s thinking. When he’s studying you with more care than anyone has in your entire life. Like he could figure out everything and anything about you in the way your lips curved, or how you looked at him so delicately as if he was made of glass and not stone or metal. 

He could never understand how you loved him so much, how every bit of stardust was reflected into your body and leaked out of you whenever you moved. 

How he managed to get you by his side…well, he’d never know. But the feeling was mutual.

“Oh,” Your thumb caresses his cheek, running over the bristles and skimming over the skin, “And what’s that, Mr. Price?”

“..Means I’ve been blessed to see you not only when I open my eyes…but when I close ‘em too.”

In Poland, two people are finally able to press their lips together for the first time in a long while; they themselves would say it felt like ages. That was expected, naturally, because a match such as the one made between you and Jonathan Price was forged with steel and tempered in rough waters. Nothing could break it.

Their wedding bands clink together as they pull back, glinting gold more vibrant than the sun…but not quite as warm or adoring as the looks in their eyes.

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[peachesofteal]

Heartbeat / Chapter 1

Same pairing as I got you and Picture.

Simon Riley/female reader 3.6k words - part of the Sassy series - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, pregnancy, anxiety, vomiting, PTSD, panic attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, Protective Simon, Possessive Simon, oral sex - female receiving, explicit sex, breeding kink, praise kink. Mentions of violence. Trauma. Blood. Angst. Hurt/Injured reader. Simon made up his mind.

“But not the thick crust kind. The thin kind, well done. Tell them-“ He shut the truck door with a firm push and pressed the phone back up to his ear.

“I know, Sass. I know.”

“that I want it with black spots top and bottom. And extra cheese! Last time they forgot it and-“

“Sass.”

“Yeah?”

“I got it.”

“Erm, right.”

It’s been a month since Simon showed up on your doorstep. A month, since he took his mask off in front of you, showed you who he was. A month since he started to try to earn your trust back. It was slow, and you were wary of him, and he tried not to hold it against you, even though it frustrated him to no end. Some days, you still slip away from him. Distrusting, and angry. Hurt. He rides it out with you, as patient as possible, no matter how rough it is. He has no other options.

The first week was the worst. You fought him tooth and nail. Ferociously. Viciously. True to your spirit. The morning after he had showed up on your front step at night, you didn’t let him in your house for almost two hours. You spoke to him through the crack in the door until he convinced you to open up, and then once you did, you spent three hours putting him through his paces. Pushing him about why he had you put on leave, why he disappeared on you, why he ran from you at every turn.

“You put an intimate relationship with a superior down on my record.” You hissed at him, spitting poison with every word.

“I didn’t. Price and I, we talked. It wasn’t on record.” He was surprised when he watched tears gather in your eyes, his mouth moving but no words coming out except; “Sass, please, I-“ 

“You and Price decided to get rid of me!” you screamed at him, and he stood there and took it from you. Took everything you threw at him because you were right. In the end, that is what happened. He implored Price to put you on leave or transfer you out because he couldn’t handle it.

He’d never been a coward before that moment. Not a day in his life. But you, you had reduced him to rubble and ash. Left him helpless in your wake.

That night, he drank a bottle of bourbon in the emptiness of his hotel room. Who was he kidding? He didn’t have a clue. He didn’t know how to do this, navigate this situation, or you. He didn’t know how to be a father. He couldn’t tell you the first thing about what a healthy father-son relationship looked like, or how to be a good dad. What was he going to do? Stay with you? Play house? Mow the lawn and drink beers on Friday nights, change diapers and wash baby clothes covered in puke?

“I can do this. I have it all handled.” The words twisted in his gut, and he turned them over and over in his mind. Did he want you to have to do it alone? Did he want his kid to grow up without him?

Maybe you both would be better off. He could watch, from the shadows. Keep the two of you safe. Succeed where he failed before.

“You’re off the hook.” You had told him, and he was surprised at how much he didn’t like the sound of that. Or how it felt.

A memory, the sound of your laughter, tugged at him. He remembered watching you play a round of cards with Soap, nestled in a safehouse the night before a particularly difficult op. He can still hear the exact tone of your voice, the chime of your amusement. When you looked up from across the table, your eyes found his immediately. He wasn’t surprised, you always knew where he was. The two of you always found each other, in a crowded room, in a fire fight, in the dark of night. At first it had unsettled him, but then it just turned into… home.

The last of the liquor burned when he swallowed it.

He made up his mind. He had to try.

The next day when he showed up, you weren’t there. Eight in the morning and your car was already gone. His heart hammered in his chest as he sat in his truck and ran through every worst-case scenario he could think of. Someone had forced you into the car earlier this morning, and then ditched it once they got you far enough away. Someone had killed you in the house, and then pushed your car off a bridge or a cliff with your body inside. Someone had stolen your car and you had tried to chase after them, resulting in them kidnapping you as well. You went somewhere earlier, and were in a car accident but he sure as hell wasn’t listed as your emergency contact so he would have no idea… The list went on and on, and his pulse thundered in his ears until you pulled into your driveway an hour later, trunk full of groceries. You had tensed when his driver’s side door closed, turning in a panic with a carton of eggs in your hand.

“Jesus, Simon. You can’t sneak up on me like that.” You pressed your hand over your heart, and he frowned. He hadn’t been trying to be stealthy. He was even parked in front of your house, just on the other side of the street. You moved to grab another bag, but he reached for it first.

“Let me help you.” The resigned sigh was all he got out of you in response.

He came back later that night, at your request. You’d make him dinner, you said, the two of you could talk.

“What do I have to do to get rid of you?” you asked him outright, over a plate of pasta that you were pushing around. He ate most of his. You hardly got three bites in.

“You can’t.” He told you simply, watching your face shift from stress to irritation, confusion and then to wariness, concern. “I’m on leave. Extended holiday.” 

“You… you’re what? You never take leave.” 

“I do now.” 

“For how long?” ‘For as long as you’ll have me’ got stuck in his throat so he went with,

“Awhile.” You groaned his name, ready to launch into a full diatribe of protest when he held his hand up to stop you. “Sass, I know. I’m not too dense to realize I broke your trust. I know I hurt you. But I’m here, I want to be here for you, with you, now. As much as I can, as much as you’ll let me. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. But I want to try.” He held his breath as you stared down into your plate, knuckles white around your fork. When you spoke next, your voice was different. Small. Broken.

“I’m scared.” You whispered to your lap. “That last bomb, when Soap almost died, it…took a piece of my brain, I think. It all caught up to me Simon, and now I, I’m going to have this baby, this thing that needs me and it’s been hard already and I don’t know-“ He watched you break apart until he couldn’t, pulling you from the chair and into his chest, lowering the two of you to the floor so his back rested against the wall.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.” He hushed you while you wet his shirt with your tears and mumbled incoherently into him. He held you there for hours, until you were limp with exhaustion, eyelids slipping shut.

It didn’t get easier after that though. Whatever headway he thought he made with you was gone by the next day, and you were back to fighting him, dragging him through the mud as much as you could. He sat in your driveway for two days straight, until the third, when you finally opened your front door and let him in because ‘you didn’t want your neighbors to talk’. You steeled yourself against him, telling him your breakdown the other night was a moment of weakness, and that you were fine. You didn’t want him around; you didn’t need him.

You weren’t fine. He knew it, and he knew you knew it. But even if you were, he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving.

“I have a scan, today. In an hour.” You announced one morning almost two weeks after he showed up. A scan? You looked up at him, eyes a little nervous, like you were unsure.

It was a strange thing for Simon to see, considering how you worked. You were always confident in the field, strong and assured. You knew bombs, you had told him, knew them like the back of your hand. You even taught Soap a thing or two.

“Where the hell’d you learn to do that, lass? That’s not military spec.” Johnny asked you, practically amazed, and you laughed at him, nodding in agreement.

“Family tradition.” You had quipped with a grimace and left it at that.

“To see the baby… do you want to come?” He blinked in surprise before quickly agreeing, offering to drive.

“When’s the last time you were in a doctor’s office?” you asked him quietly.

“Been awhile.” Since Tommy got clean. When Joseph was born. His fist tightened on the wheel unconsciously. “You?”

“Like two weeks ago.” Oh, right. You shifted in the seat and winced, rubbing your belly placatingly.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. He’s just… moving around, kicking me.” You surprised Simon by reaching for him, cupping his palm over the swell of your belly, letting him feel the little vibrations inside moving under his hand.

The office had been hell, at least until you got in the room. He stood beside you while you checked in, the stares of everyone in the waiting room burning into his back. He was too exposed, in unfamiliar territory, blind to any threats. Even with the face mask, ‘the civilian one’, as you called it, he still felt extremely uncomfortable. He sat next to you in the pink pleather chairs, back stiff, fingers curled over his knees, body practically vibrating with stress until you put your hand on his.

“Hey.” You leaned over with a whisper. “Everything’s okay.” Your thumb rubbed a pattern into the skin of his wrist. “We’re going to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” You had said gently, giving him a squeeze. The heartbeat. He turned to look at you, and you were smiling at him, tenderly. He could see the fear and nervousness that was wracking his own body reflecting in your gaze, but you had pushed it down, forced it away to give him comfort. His throat had felt tight with emotion in that moment.

When they finally called your name, brought you back, he relaxed slightly. The room you were in was dark, and it calmed him to the point where he felt in control again, his posture relaxed slightly as he watched the technician closely while they squirted some clear gel onto your skin.

“Wow!” they had commented brightly, “That’s a big baby!” and you had groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second while you took a deep breath. They showed you images of hands, feet, a little nose, technician moving the probe around your belly, and Simon stared at the screen, terrified to pull his eyes away in case he missed anything. Then they turned on the audio, and he heard it.

The heartbeat. A soft swoosh of a sound, steady and strong. He reached for your hand without even realizing, holding your fingers between his and bringing your palm to his face. He heard you laugh, a teary, watery thing, and he pressed his lips from behind the mask to your skin and closed his eyes. Swoosh swoosh swoosh.

Things changed, after that. You started to soften towards him more, letting your guard down bit by bit. You let him massage your feet at night and hold your hair back in the mornings when you spit bile into the toilet. He was a light sleeper, like you, and always knew the moment you rolled out of bed, stumbling for the bathroom, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“This is your fault.” You’d gasp as you vomited, face dotted with a light sheen of sweat.

“You’re right.” He’d console you and rub your back until you finished, little pieces of guilt burning in the pit of his stomach. He would press a damp washcloth to your face while you coughed and sputtered, murmuring to you softly until you rocked back, slumping against the tub and pulling his hand against your belly.

“Tell him. To knock it off.” He’d laugh, but oblige you, pulling you into his arms while you rested your face against the cool tile. He didn’t mind taking care of you. He secretly cherished it. Taking care of you allowed him some semblance of control, some ability to plan and execute in a way that was familiar to him. He thinks you knew that though.

“I’m nervous.” You gulped one night, toes tucked under your thighs on the couch. “You’re so… big. And so is he, already. It’s going to suck so bad.” You giggled a little, apprehensive smile on your face, and he did his best to reassure you.

“They’ll give ya good drugs. And I’ll be there. You can scream at me all you want, until you feel better.” You turned towards him on the couch in surprise, lips parted, eyebrows raised.

“You’ll be there? You want to be there?” 

“I’ll be there, Sass. I promise.” 

He feels like he’s in a dream sometimes, when he looks at you. Like this all can’t be real, that he’s going to wake up any moment in a tent somewhere, or a safehouse, listening to Johnny snore and Price whistle. He can’t stop himself from staring at you, eyes tracing the curves of your body, the swell of your belly the proof that you’re his, that he’s got you, now and forever. He realizes he likes you like this. He liked you before too, just as much, when you were lithe, fast and lethal. When you were easily foldable under him, ready for anything at a moment’s notice. He liked you when your nimble fingers would plug and pull wires, when your strong legs would creep silently down dimly lit hallways. You had the body of someone who killed, someone who watched him kill, someone who killed beside him. Now though, in these moments, when you’re heavy with his son growing inside of you, soft and tender, your edges softened, he has a hard time believing he’s not actually dreaming.

It was a few nights ago, when you rolled over in the dark, hands snaking across his stomach to reach in his sweatpants for his cock, that he finally tasted you again. He laid you on your back in the dim light of your bedside lamp, running his hands over your body, pressing his mouth to your belly. He couldn’t get enough of you like this; body spread open for him, sleeping in his t-shirt, having his baby. He’d keep you here forever if he could, keep you safe. Keep you both safe.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, spreading your folds to press a thumb to your clit.

“I’m a whale.” You whined with a gasp. His cock was painfully hard against the bed, dripping into your sheets, your whimpers and moans filling his ears.

“No, you’re not.” You were so wet, soaked, he slipped a finger inside you easily, stroking against the sponge like-spot in your cunt. “You’re having my baby, Sass.” He lowered his mouth to your clit, raising its hood with a thumb so he could lick your swollen nub over and over, until you were clenching around him and crying his name.

“Fuck, Simon. Shit-“ 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Come on.” He felt the muscles in your legs tense, and your body pressed against his face, seeking more friction. “Come for me. I know you can do it.” And you did, hard, straining against the bed while your thighs closed around his head. He pulled you on top after, guiding your hips gently to sink downwards, your face pained from the stretch. It had been a while, since you’d taken him, and you were slow to work your way onto his cock. “Take your time.” He told you through a gnashed jaw, the feeling of your hot cunt gripping him nearly sending him hurtling over the edge before he was even all the way inside.

“Look at you, my good girl. Sittin’ on my cock, carrying my baby.” He curled forward, teeth grazing your nipple, the sensitive peak hard between his lips. “Wanna keep you like this.” He wrapped his arms around you as you rode him, body moving up and down on his cock lazily. “Fuck you full of my come, give you another.” You tightened, liquid heat dousing him, and he stroked your clit again, fingers moving in time with your hips until you became frantic, hurried, and he knew you were close.

“Come on my cock like a good girl, Sass. Let me feel it.” You squeezed him when you came again, and he followed you shortly after, filling you so much it was dripping out of you while you panted on top of him.

Afterwards, you looked over at him suspiciously.

“Since when has that been a thing?” 

“Since now.”

“I double checked the amount of cheese for ya before I paid.” He says, depositing the two boxes onto the kitchen table. The house is silent in response. “Sass?” He calls louder. Nothing. His stomach flips. Maybe you’re asleep. You have been sleeping more, taking cat naps on the couch, or crawling into bed earlier than usual. He takes the stairs two at a time and calls your name again when he gets to the top. “Sass!” The light is on in the bedroom, and he relaxes slightly. Definitely fell asleep.

When he pushes the door open, the metallic, tangy smell is the first thing that hits him. It floods his senses and his heart drops into his stomach when he sees you.

You’re on your side, on the floor, in one of his t-shirts and little cotton shorts that sit snugly on your hips. You’re lying in a pool of bright red blood that is coming from between your legs, your color off, almost dull, and your cellphone lying face down five feet from your outstretched fingers. He says something, or shouts something, but they’re not words. They’re sounds. Hoarse, horrified, panicked sounds that echo in the dead silence of the room.

“No no no-“ He rolls you on your back, pushing your hair away from your face and cradling your cheeks between his palms. “Sass. Sass, wake up. Wake up Sass, come on.” Then he tries your real name, over and over to no avail. Your chest is moving, just barely, breaths rough and shallow and he swallows the scream that’s threatening to erupt from inside his diaphragm. Your head rests limply in his hands and feels darkness ebbing around the sides of his vision. This can’t- This isn’t- He can’t breathe. The fear spreads through him like an infection, threatening to immobilize him. “Come on sweet girl. Wake up for me.” He shakes you, just a little, but you don’t respond, and he actually screams this time. Shouts at the top of his lungs, hands fumbling in his pocket for his cellphone.

The next ten minutes pass in a blur. He keeps a hand on the side of your neck to count your too slow pulse as he talks to the operator on the other end of the phone. They try to give him instructions, but his head is buzzing so loud he can hardly concentrate. The smell of your blood is too strong, and it makes him think of Belize, makes him remember that time he almost lost you before he even had you, the day that guy shot you in the ribs. He nearly killed you right in front of him and he remembers holding your body against his in the truck, his hand pressing hard, so hard, to your wound as red ichor ran beneath his fingers. You were in so much pain, so confused, and all he could do was sit there with you, running his fingers through your hair as Price drove like a madman through the streets.

He didn’t lose you then. He couldn’t lose you now. Couldn’t lose either of you.

He’s still counting the beats of your heart when he hears commotion downstairs and he yells, desperation bleeding into the crackling of his voice. “You’re alright.” He tells you. Says the same thing he told you again and again that day. “You’ll be fine. You’ll both be fine.” He sees the flash of yellow, a backboard, at the top of the stairs and somewhere beneath his panic there’s a tiny feeling of relief that help is here. “I’m here. I’ve got you, Sass.” He murmurs before forcing himself to step away so they can take his place, a portable monitor counting the beats of your heart now instead of him. He stares at it the whole time, all the way down the steps, while they load you into the back of the ambulance, and then he watches two monitors, the baby’s, and yours, while the ambulance speeds down the road. He presses his hands against the metal bench he’s sitting on, gripping it tight and trying to breathe, the images of you unconscious and bleeding burning into his memory.

He can’t lose you. He can’t lose either of you.

He closes his eyes, and clings to the steady beep of the heartbeats on the monitor.

The next work in this series is here.

[tf-lover]

Commission - Undercover Truths

Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

Detective Patrick Walters had been in the game a long time. Having just hit 40, he was still in very good shape compared to a lot of guys his age. By this point he’d watched many formerly athletic colleagues in their youth grow lazy and spend more time behind a desk than in the gym, but not Patrick. He was still in the gym five days a week, working out to keep himself in top shape. He prided himself on it. Sure, most of the time you didn’t get dramatic chases like the movies showed, but there were occasions over the years where his athletic prowess had mattered. And besides, it wasn’t for the job. He stayed fit because he liked how it felt, even now into his 40’s he worked hard to keep his appearance as good as it could be for himself and the ladies he hooked up with.

As a seasoned detective who’d worked his way right up the chain from a new member of the force at 18, Partick knew what he was doing when it came to the job. Living in a big city there were always new cases being dropped on his desk. From murders to drug crime at the extreme end, there wasn’t much he didn’t know how to handle at this point in his life. 

This new case though, this one had been tough. Gang activity, but none of his usual sources had been at all useful, and any evidence he’d gathered so far was circumstantial at best. He’d been on the case long enough to know some shady stuff was going on; everything from drugs to disappearances had crossed his desk; but there was never enough hard evidence to back up his instinct that all the cold cases over the last few months were connected. He knew they were though. He could feel it in his bones, as nonsense of a notion as that was. 

So, as he saw it, Patrick only had one option left. 

“Absolutely not.” The precinct’s chief, a man Patrick had been friends with a long time named Simon, said when he put forward his idea. “Out of the question Detective, I’m sorry. I can’t authorise an undercover mission to investigate a hunch, as much as I agree these cold cases are odd and need a solution, we’ve got no proof the downtown gangs are responsible. Sending you in without a strong reason or proof of their involvement just isn’t something I can authorise.” Simon had an apologetic look on his face as he sat back in his desk chair. “I’m sorry Patrick, really. I wish I could help, but I just can’t authorise an op like this and you know it. Maybe taking some time off would help clear your head of all this? You barely ever use your vacation time, that I could quite easily approve.”

A small smile spread over Patrick’s face. “You’re right Sir, maybe I should use up some of those vacation days.” He turned to leave the office, but paused when he got to the door and glanced back at the chief. “Thank you Simon, really.”

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for Pat, I’m just approving some vacation time is all.” Simon didn’t give any hint of anything showing through, but Patrick didn’t need him to. “Now get out of here, you’ve got some vacation time to enjoy.”

Patrick nodded and headed out of the office. He was lucky he’d known the chief as long as he had, he’d have missed the hint at an off books snoop around if not. Simon couldn’t approve a full on investigation, but if Patrick could come to him with enough evidence, officially or unofficially obtained, to link one of the downtown gangs then maybe he could launch something. He’d have to be careful though, since he knew there was no protection if he was caught; Simon would have to deny all knowledge and claim he went rogue. 

All he had to do now was finish off some paperwork then he’d be ready to head off for his ‘vacation’. One that, little did he know, was going to be far more life changing than he was expecting…

~~~

It’d taken a couple of days and a lot of phone calls, but eventually Patrick had found an in. He’d hung around the right places and managed to run into a former member of the largest gang in the city, one who let just enough information slip when Patrick had pretended to be someone the guy knew from the gang years ago. Act in the right way and you could get people to think you knew them from a long time ago, a skill Patrick had become fairly good at over the years.

Armed with the knowledge he needed, Patrick made his way to the warehouse district of the city after that conversation. He’d long suspected there was gang activity around these parts, but had never had enough specifics. Now was different though, as now he knew the rough area to check. There were only a few unused warehouses in the southern part of the district below the river, so one of those had to be the one he was looking for. 

The first one was a bust. Picked the lock and slipped inside, only to find stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, filled with products from a toy company he knew had gone out of business several years ago. 

The second of the three ws now in use he’d discovered. When he’d walked up there were a few workers loading furniture into the back of a van, and a quick conversation after pretending to be lost had revealed this definitely wasn’t the place he was looking for. 

All he had left was the third one he knew was abandoned. 

When he got there he was glad to see no signs of life like the second one. No signs of anything when he walked in, not even boxes stacked up like the first. He still had a good look around though, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. And he was lucky he did, as in one of the back corners was a hatch that had to lead down to a basement. As he descended the ladder down he could see a soft glow of some type of light and the sound of a voice, which meant he had to be in the right place. 

A few seconds later he stepped back onto solid ground to find himself in a short corridor with sets of doors along each side and one at the end. It was this end one that piqued his curiosity, as this one unlike the others was slightly ajar and was the source of the sound and pale glow. 

Partick stepped closer quietly and carefully, not wanting to alert anyone that might be inside. The closer he got though, the more he realised it wasn’t a conversation he could hear and wasn’t a light on he could see. It was the same voice saying the same words on a loop of several minutes, which meant the light was probably a TV playing a video on a loop. Why there would be something like that down in the basement of an abandoned warehouse he had no idea, but it was definitely suspicious enough to lead him to believe he was in the right place. 

Once he got to the door at the end of the corridor, Patrick hovered outside for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. When he was sure he pushed his way into the room, gun held low and ready to fire if it came to it. As he suspected though, there wasn’t a soul in sight; only him, the TV as he’d guessed, and the rest of the small room. A table with clothes and a half used pack of cigarettes on, a shower in one corner, and the TV in the centre of the room with a chair in front. It was an odd set up to say the least, and not what Patrick had been hoping to find. 

“This is… What even is all this for?” Patrick mumbled to himself as he walked around. The most confusing part of it all was the fine layer of dust on everything, a sign no one had been here or touched this stuff in some time. “No one’s been here, so why is the TV on? I can’t have been left on for the same amount of time as this other stuff hasn’t been touched.”

With nothing particularly interesting laying around the room, Patrick turned to the TV. He’d largely ignored it until now, but with no other signs of a clue it was the only thing left. It was clearly pretty old, not one of the more modern flat screens by any means. It wasn’t playing anything in particular though, all he could see was a blank white screen that occasionally flickered to black when whatever was playing looped to the beginning. 

Welcome back home Lance, you’ve been gone a while.

The words the voice spoke struck some kind of chord within Patrick’s mind. He wasn’t this Lance guy, but somehow he knew instinctively he was the one being spoken to by the deep voice. A pause later as Patrick moved around to the front of the TV and the voice spoke again. 

Not saying anything? Figures. At least take a seat why don’t you?

Patrick sat down in the ratty chair without thinking about it. Not until he’d got comfortable anyway did he realise he’d just listened to what the voice said. It was like it was talking to him, but that wasn’t possible. Was it? 

“Who are you? What is this place?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the logical part of his brain knowing he’d heard all this before in the background as he’d looked around the room. “Can you hear-”

We’re not having a conversation, I just know you well enough to know what you’re going to ask whilst you’re like this. I’m your everything Lance, I’ve missed you.

Missed him? How could this voice have missed him when he didn’t even know who it belonged to? Despite that, there was still a shiver of satisfaction as whoever this man was said that; Patrick was suddenly feeling like he had missed the man behind the voice too. It made no sense, but he couldn’t deny the feeling was there now out of nowhere. 

It sent a jolt of panic running down his spine and Patrick fought the urge to stay sitting in the chair like he’d been told. He wanted to run, get out of here and all the strangeness of this small, dark room whilst he still could, but something deep in his core kept him locked in place.

You’re probably panicking right now. Have a cigarette Lance, that always helps you calm down.

Patrick’s eyes flicked over to the pack on the table. There was a lighter there too he realised, all ready for him to grab and light up. Patrick had never smoked in his life, not even a slight puff on one as a teenager. He hated the things, could never see how someone would want to destroy their body like that. 

He was reaching over to swipe them up before he knew what he was doing. Slid one out of the pack, balanced it between his lips, then flicked the lighter with a practised ease and set the cigarette burning. Two fingers around the end by his lips to keep it steady, then one deep inhale later he felt that sweet, familiar rush of nicotine and a calm wash over him. Lance blew the smoke out slowly as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a content sigh as he did. He’d missed that feeling. 

Patrick blinked down at the cigarette in his hand as he was about to raise it back to his lips. What had he just done? For a moment he’d lost himself completely. No coughing after what he knew was his first time smoking; the ease with which he pulled one out a lit up wasn’t one he possessed; he definitely wasn’t familiar with the calming high he got afterwards. It wasn’t possible for him to be missing a feeling he’d never felt before, and he absolutely did not know where the momentary comfort with being this ‘Lance’ dude had come from. 

Again.

On reflex, Partick slotted the cigarette back between his lips and took another long, heavenly drag from it. Smoke filled him up, swirling around as he held it inside for a moment to enjoy the sensation before he let it back out in a lengthy blow. 

Comfort. Home. Relaxed. All those feelings swirled around with the smoke as he took drag after drag from the cigarette between Lance’s lips. 

Confusion. Panic. Fear. All those feelings left Patrick as he blew out the smoke each time. 

There wasn’t anything to worry about here, the cigarette had reminded him. He belonged here, this wasn’t some break in, he was just coming home. Each inhale of smoke he calmed down as the previously unknown itch for nicotine was scratched, each exhale Patrick felt more comfortable and at ease letting this voice call him Lance. It felt right, more right than Patrick felt as his name in the current moment. 

Once you’ve finished that off Lance you should get changed. Have a shower to wash off all that hair dye and makeup covering your tattoos, then your usual gym clothes are all there just as you left them. 

Lance looked over at the shower in the corner of the room. He could do with a shower after the long day, even if he didn’t quite know what else the voice was talking about. He ran a hand through his grey hair as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. It’d been brown once upon a time, but he’d never cared enough to dye it as he grew older. He’d never liked the way tattoos looked either, so why the voice thought he’d need to wear makeup to cover something he didn’t have was beyond him.

Nevertheless, he still switched the shower on then stripped quickly and stepped under the warm spray. It felt almost as good as the cigarette had, so much so he unconsciously turned the heat up higher than he’d usually tolerate. There was something about the almost scalding hot water as it rolled down his neck from his head, over his shoulders and down his torso, something that just felt right. There was a cloth and bottle he could only assume was shower gel, so he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and started rubbing it into his skin. Under his arms, over his crotch and between his ass cheeks, then up and over his shoulders and back into his hair, barely an inch of him was spared.

Once he was properly soaped up, Lance turned a little to place himself back directly under the spray and went to work washing it all off again. He barely noticed the grey colour that came with the suds in his hair, or the pinkish tint that sloughed off as he rubbed at his skin. Dark lines appeared the more he rubbed and cleaned, revealing dark tattoos and tanned skin all over his body, just as the voice had claimed. As he washed his hair he watched as some of it fell out and washed away down the drain, leaving it now cropped perfectly short to his scalp.

“When did I…?” Lance hesitated for a second as he stared at his inked flesh when the last of the shower gel had washed off. He didn’t remember getting tattoos… or did he? “Huh, yeah. That’s… that’s my ink. Missed seeing that on this job, maybe I’ll get more to celebrate being finished at last.”

“You did a great job getting into the police so deep Lance, I’m proud of you. Undercover work isn’t easy, but you’re done now.”

Lance smiled to himself as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was all coming back to him now. He wasn’t a cop or a detective, he was only pretending to be for the gang to throw off some of the stuff they’d been doing. He wasn’t this perfect Patrick Walters guy, that was just an alias they’d created for him. The memories of that life, growing up into some old guy like that, none of it was real. It was a backstory they’d planned out together. Even now he barely noticed as the memories slipped away, just the important details Lance had to memorise for the job sticking around. 

The location the voice was coming from had shifted too, but Lance was too preoccupied with drying himself off and grabbing his clothes to notice. It was clearer and closer to the door instead of sounding like it came from the TV in the centre of the room, not that it made a difference as Lance pulled on his favourite jockstrap and shorts. A tank top that showed off his muscles and tattoos followed, along with the necklace, backwards cap and earrings he always wore. 

He felt comfortable again now he’d dropped out of the disguise and got back to himself. How the stupid pigs had ever believed some shitty hair dye and makeup he hadn’t a clue, it wasn’t exactly a believable disguise. That and somehow passing for a man who just turned 40 when Lance himself had turned 28 only a few months before the beginning of this undercover stuff; the cops were really all as stupid as he thought they were. 

“How’re you feeling babe? Better to be back?”

The voice that was very clearly from inside the room startled Lance for a second before he looked up to see his boyfriend, who was also the leader of the gang he was part of, stood at the door. He had his arms folded over his chest and his signature smirk on his face, one that always got Lance’s cock throbbing.

“You know I am Raf. Been dying to be back in your arms for months.” Lance said as he strolled across the room. When he got close enough he untangled Raf’s crossed arms and pressed himself up against his lover, their muscled bodies snug together. “You got no idea how much I’ve missed you and myself, pulling off the straight older cop shtick was torture.”

Raf rubbed a hand over Lance’s shaved hair then let them slide down and settle around his waist. “I bet it was, but you’re back to normal now eh? Can get the hell outta here and get shit moving on the next phase. Now you’ve thrown them off us we can expand and take over the smaller gangs, become the big underground name around here. We’re gonna own this city thanks to you babe.”

Raf leaned in and kissed him then. Lance happily kissed back, letting his lover's beard scratch against his jaw as their lips slid together. It was more heavenly than the cigarette, which was something considering how much he smoked in one day. Not smoking or being with Raf had been the worst torture of his life, but it was all over now. He had his boyfriend back kissing him, his life back, everything. 

A few moments later the kiss ended and Raf slid out of his arms. He still held Lance’s hand tight as he pulled him out of the small room and pushed him back towards the ladder upwards, then let go so his lover could move. “You go on up Lance. I’m just gonna clear this place out, then I’ll come meet you up there and we can leave yeah?”

Lance nodded and grabbed hold of the ladder. “Sure thing Raf, I’ll see your sexy ass in the car for some hot sex yeah?”

Raf nodded and smirked again. “You bet your ass I will. It’s been long enough, I’ve missed the way you suck dick.” He watched Lance blush as the other man climbed the ladder out of the small basement, leaving Raf alone down there. He switched the TV off, grabbed up the clothes his boyfriend had taken off to get in the shower earlier, then walked back to the door. “Well Patrick, that sure went off without a hitch, didn’t it?” He said to the empty room before he locked it and headed off to catch up with Lance. 

Raf had a lot of fucking to do so he could make up for lost time, though whether that time was a few months or a lifetime was anyone’s guess…

[smokersbaby]

How OP's men would react when you call their pecs "boobies"

Characters: Crocodile, Smoker, Katakuri, Zoro Tw: just fluff and other silly things Notes: I finally finished this short drabble or whatever it's called. I hope you all enjoy some boobies from our favourites OP's men (I can think about doing more on request)

Crocodile

You found yourself poking his chest for no particular reason, Crocodile was sitting in front of you smoking one of his cigars and reading the newspaper. He wasn't really ignoring you, just minding his business. But you wanted his attention so you started bothering him with pats and light touches until you started tapping his chest over his shirt.

"Are you done?" he asked after a couple of minutes, his eyes not leaving the paper he held in his right hand. "Not until you pay attention to me" you answered in a cocky but sweet tone.

Crocodile put his newspaper on the table in front of him and glanced at you, obviously a bit bothered by your behaviour. "What now?", his voice sounded annoyed, you smiled as if you didn't care. "Oh nothing really, I'm bored but at least your boobies keep me company" you answered bluntly still poking his chest.

Crocodile sighed, he seemed unimpressed by how you called his pecs "boobies", but if that made you happy he wasn't going to stop you from touching them. A hint of a smile on his face appeared on his face as he asked if you were jealous of his "boobies" just to tease and see your reaction.

"W-What do you mean?" you were now blushing as if he assumed that you envied his "boobies". Crocodile laughed sincerely, he couldn't resist seeing you flustering like that, he leaned closer to give you a light kiss on your forehead. He grabbed your chin lifting it a bit to look directly into your eyes before speaking in a sweet tone.

"Y/N, don't be jealous of my "boobies", yours are way better than mine.".

Smoker

You always loved sleeping with Smoker like this: your head placed on his chest, his arms hugging your body and keeping you warm under the bedsheets. The sunlight flaring from the windows made you wake up first as he was still in a deep slumber.

Smoker seemed so relaxed in his sleep, like every concern or worry of his disappeared when he had the chance to keep you so close to him during the night. You couldn't help but smile seeing him like that, your hands were roaming his chest and caressing him in his slumber.

No need to say that you absolutely loved his physique, how his strong arms wrapped around you and the feeling of his chest under your cheek while snuggling. Your right hand squeezed one of his pecs softly. "Boobies…" you mumbled. "Hmm… what?" Smoker answered in a low voice. He was awake.

"I like your boobies" You squeezed his pecs a bit more, making him blush. Teasing him like that was one of the things you loved doing, seeing him flustered like that was priceless. "They are not boobies!" you could sense the embarrassment in his voice. God, he was cute.

You chuckled and pocked his chest, he sighed seeing you having so much fun teasing him like that. He couldn't deny how much he loved that silly side of yours, so he placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, resigned to the fact that you called his pecs "boobies".

"They are all yours" he whispered booping your nose, he couldn't resist you.

Katakuri

Spending time with Katakuri was your favourite thing to do since even though his appearance seemed a bit rough on the outside, you knew how much of a softie he was on the inside. At the same time, he loved being with you too, carrying you around on his shoulder.

The view from up there was amazing, you found yourself staring at his pecs since you could see them pretty well from there. Every step he took was even making them bounce a bit. "Nice boobies love" you whispered to his ear with a teasing smile.

His cheeks flustered in half a second as he heard you saying such a thing to his chest, but he didn't say anything, probably Katakuri was too stunned by your words to say anything.

"The best boobies I've seen in a while…" you continued giving him a light kiss on his forehead, a little curl appeared on his mouth, making you realize that he liked your compliment.

He moved you from his shoulder and held your body in his arms as if you were light as a feather and pocked your nose. "Nobody has ever called them boobies, I like it, it's sweet," he said laughing a bit with joy in his voice as if he was having a good time with you even just talking about silly things like these.

"Not as sweet as you" he whispered, making your heart melt.

Zoro

His pecs are huge, everybody knows that. Admiring him while he was training himself was your favourite hobby since you could stare at him shirtless all the time. He wasn't bothered by this attitude of yours, Zoro kept a straight face during his training as if there wasn't anybody looking at him.

Even if he was just doing his usual, you couldn't help but giggle a bit every time you saw his "boobies" bounce a bit with every sudden movement of his. "Boobies…" you whispered to yourself, your mouth a bit drooling just at the sight of his large chest.

"Y/N, did you say something?" he asked, Zoro was now looking at you, staring at your blushing face. Since you were too lost in admiring his movements you didn't even realize that you spoke out loud and he heard you saying that thing.

"N-nothing" you replied looking away but he grabbed you by the chin and lifted it to look into his eyes. "You can touch if you want to" he grinned knowing exactly that you were talking about his pecs. He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, making your cheeks red even more than they already were.

"So you like my "boobies" huh?" he whispered into your ear. From now on he'll let you touch his chest more during his training since you know you can't take your eyes off him.