#when i was writing this my OC had a gun to my head and i finished writing within less than 2 days

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝betrayal stings like a b*tch⁰²❞

⟶ simon 'ghost' riley x oc/reader

simon has to let the little thing holding him back go, the betrayal makes it easy but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

⟶ cw. third person, angsty, betrayal, shadow!oc, relations with graves

⟶ note. yessir our girl's callsign is leech xd she has a good story behind why she was called that but it is the same OC in all the drabbles i write xx

he didn't expect to open up to anyone, especially not in the field—on the job. the strange girl he had been getting close to stands against him right behind the fucking devil himself.

"what? did you think she was one of you?"

graves' words stung a lot harder than he expected it to. his eyes were burning with hatred watching her stand there next to him like a good little pet.

1-3, leech. shadow company, american flag stitched on her flag uniform. how was he fooled?

she didn't even catch his eyes, he can't see her face under her blood stained mark. the blood of alejandro's people after they took fuerza especiales hq and betrayed task force 141 and the los vaqueros.

she doesn't even make a move when alejandro is captured and detained. soap gets shot and ghost makes his escape. he even had the nerve to look over at her, if she was alright. she just stands by him, nodding to his orders without even a shift in her eyes.

fucking traitor.

in las almas ghost was separated him soap, only managing to communicate with him through coms.

"why are you still here?" her voice, it hits him like dagger to the heart.

ghost turns to her instantly pointing his gun at her with the laser sight pointed right at her. she had her hands up, walking through the darkness with a knife in hand—fresh blood dripping from it.

"bored of killing innocents already?"

she shakes her head, "if you call the shadows innocent."

he didn't quite believe her just yet.

"it's dangerous, ghost."

ghost scoffs, still pointing his weapon at her. "for you."

"i'm not the one being hunted." she saunters towards him, unafraid of the consequences, he won't shoot her, she knew that.

she sighs, close enough to him to smack her hand against the barrel of the gun away from her direction. he gets the opening to toss his gun aside and grab her, tossing her agains the wall with his forearm pressed against her throat.

her helmet is off, and her heavy plates too, ghost eyes them before she replies to his silent questions. "quieter this way."

"you're here to kill me?"

she rolls her eyes, those orbs the only things visible under her half-mask and beanie. "if i was, you'd be dead."

"you think too highly of yourself."

she laughs, "a girl's gotta' be optimistic."

her laugher dies down when he presses his arm against her harder, taking her breath. she winces slightly at the pressure. her eyes start to water but she doesn't show weakness.

ghost gets close to her, his mask pressing against the side of her face. "why'd you do it?"

"he's my...boss." she words out through her struggled breaths.

"that all?"

she had the audacity to scoff, "you know the answer."

he knew the strange little relationship graves had with her, he didn't like it. he doesn't pry for more. when a tear slips down her face he pulls away.

she coughs catching her breath. "if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were tryin' to kill me."

"i should."

"but you won't."

she knew him well. from the short time they had together, he couldn't do it.

"get outta here." he orders, he's no longer her superior yet he can she stiffens at the tone.

she sighs, rubbing her hand over her face. "that's it?"

"what else?"

"not gonna' beg me to go with you?"

ghost scoffs, hearing the quiet voice of soap through his radio. "no."

she's still a traitor, the rest won't accept it and deep down he knew if he had folded over the gentleness and soft tone of her voice—her charming personality then price might kill her himself. a traitor to the force, she was apart of the group that went after a hit on the captain's team, he isn't going to forgive that—not easily.

"shadow 1-3, this is graves what is your position?"

"ghost��"

"you should answer that."

she nods, knowing that it was pretty much over. it hurts him to turn away from her, from the thought of what it could've been but he had to, he had a job to do.

[venusbyline]

a quick "get to know the person behind the blog" while i write the 29th day of Kinktober fics (a later post, unfortunately)

nobody tagged me but anyway i found the trend very interesting and wanted to do it too <3 <3

Name/nickname: Vênus

Gender: Female

Star sign: Capricorn

Height: 5′2 (1.57)

Time: 09:21 pm

Birthday: 13, January

Favourite band: One Direction, Guns N' Roses, Bon Jovi, Fleetwood Mac

Favourite solo artist: Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, Ethel Cain

Song that’s stuck in my head: Sun Bleached Flies by Ethel Cain, Lilith by Saint Avangeline, Army Dreamers by Kate Bush

Last movie: The Substance and I also rewatched Me Before You for the 6th time

Last show: I was rewatching Hannibal (NBC) season 2 this week

When did I make this blog: March, I guess

What I post: Smut fics and Dark/Dead Dove Do Not Eat fics about s/o x female reader, but I'm gonna start writing angst sometimes and also s/o x female OCs and some specific random ships

Last thing I googled: The name of the actress who starred Possession (1981)

Do I get asks: YEAH! I love it when readers make requests, compliments or random comments. But unfortunately there's also a lot of anon hate

How did I chose my username: For those who believe in Astrology, some people say that our Rising Sign contains our Ruling Planet. My Rising is Taurus and Taurus is ruled by Venus. Venus is the "Roman version" of the Greek myth of Aphrodite, who is the Goddess of beauty, love, sex... and also she's one of my favorites. Besides Vênus is also my nickname. Anyway, "byline" would be because of the writing, I really don't know how to explain very well the thoughts I had that day hahaha

Following: 64 (I always forget to follow the accounts and I struggle afterwards trying to find the blogs 😭😭)

Followers: 1,122 (HOLY SHIT)

Average sleep: 3 or 4 hours probably

Lucky number: 7 and 13

Instruments: Unfortunately no one :(

What am I wearing rn: Black and red pajama shirt, black pajama pants and gray-pink socks decorated with pink and light blue candies

Dream trip: Anywhere in Scotland, but especially Edinburgh. London too

Favourite food: Strawberry

Nationality: Brazilian

Favourite song: All Too Well by Taylor Swift, that 10 minute version from Red (Taylor's Version)

Last book: I don't have time to read lately, but in October I reread The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Top 3 fictional universes: A Song of Ice and Fire, Criminal Minds, Hannibal (but honorable mention for The Hunger Games)

Favourite colour: Dark Red (especially Maroon) and Pink (especially Amaranth Pink)

[crzyimp]

Another Sun Au: Tang Monk and Young Sun

Author's Note: Written for the discord JTTW server event! Ngl this is one of my guilty pleasures and one I often think about/daydream. This is a intro to hopefully more(when I have time to write) of my au. Also open for any questions(and requests if it sparks my mood) related to Journey to the west :3

Warnings: None

Words: Roughly 1.65k

Special thanks and shoutout to @sparrow-in-boots for being my beta reader! Check out their blog(s) and art!!

“Baldy monky! I'm here for the secret lesson!” A jovial voice shrieks, the voice bouncing and echoing in his cell. It wouldn't be a secret for long with how loud she's being, but then again, not a single adult yaoguai monkey stopped her yet, nor did the Great Sage make an appearance since that day. So much trust to allow her to roam free like this or how overconfident the ruler of the mountain seems to be, with no care that even children can come and go as they please.

He opens and closes his mouth, as if to say something, before calmly replying to her; “Young Sun,” he wants to keep his distance, at least emotional and personal, “Refrain from shouting, remember inside voices, less you draw six ears.” Especially when any day his head will be on a platter for the Great Sage and his sworn brothers as the grandest of grand feasts. “And please do not call me ‘Baldy Monky’, it's rude.”

Finally she comes into his view with a blank expression, but her eyes sparkle with innocent joy. “Sorry, shifu.” Young Sun whispers, crouching next to his bars. “I got excited about today's lessons.” Tripitaka sighs, tries his best to smile at her, only to falter when she flinches. “I'm really sorry for being loud. Please don't be mad at me.” He can only blink and look at her.

Mad at her? Sure, he was mad and frustrated, but at his situation rather than her; Tripitaka was meant to be journeying to the West to gather the scriptures to bring back to the Tang Empire, along with his small party. The travel was ruinously cut short after they were captured by yaoguai, with Tripitaka as the sole survivor who witnessed the others devoured. He would’ve met the same fate, but fate was crueler. The Heaven-Equaling Great Sage, the one who wreaked havoc in heaven and escaped from Budda’s imprisonment, happened to pay a visit to his lowly general's home. The look from those fiery eyes petrified his very soul that day, before the Great Sage declared that he will stay at the Flower Fruit Mountain for a celebration in the coming weeks, as the main course. “Dis….Young Sun, let us start with your lesson.” He shifts to face her, his beads - bless the Merciful Bodhisattva they didn't strip from him - cupped together in his hands.

“Okay, Shifu.” Young Sun mimics him, albeit clumsily, her thin and hairy arms shuffling her equally hairy legs to cross together like his. His lips twitches, as he fondly looks at her and reminded how at her age he did the very same thing: full of energy and wonderment for the world with a yearning to learn and to help; until the iron bars between them came back to his view and the bleak reminder of his future. Despite this, he begins the first teachings of Buddhism, blessed that at least this persistent, curious monkey wants to learn.

It wasn't even a day after his arrival that Young Sun met him for the first time.

“I am Sun Yángguāng, the youngest and first to be born in 500 years! Who are you, ape? And why are you bald?”

He was so terrified and shocked at their first, but short meeting together as the Great Sage and his four ape generals were there as well. Tripitaka can't recall if it was one of the generals or the Great Sage himself who whisked her away for a scolding. Not that it did much, as she found ways to visit him and learn much of the outside world and Buddhism through him.

“Um…shifu..” Her voice was quiet and unsure, something that must've been on her mind for some time.

“We're not meant to talk during meditation.” He replies.

“I know but…” Young Sun sighs and Tripitaka opens his eyes to look at her. “...I'm conflicted, each day draws nearer to the King's grand feast with the other sages and your…” She bites down at her lip, her eyes move to the ground when they meet his. Ah, this topic again. He remembers how jovial she was at the beginning of the feast and the special occasion until she realized what it meant for him. A topic that is that left her more somber and haunted by restless nights, though this never stopped her from visits and lessons.

“I cannot be biased and say I wish to die, Young Sun. I wish to live so that I continue my journey, but if I am fated to die here, then so be it.” He accepted this, it breaks his heart that he'll fail before he even began,but he'll atone in his next life. He just never expected this would also break her heart, someone who only knew him for a short time. Tripitaka watches as she bows her head and her knuckles turn white with her colorful hanfu bunched up between her fingers; her body shakes with a sharp inhale. He doesn't say a word, nor comforts or cries, he accepts his death and so must she.

No words were exchanged between them after that, Young Sun collects herself and leaves with her head high, but her eyes clouded. Tripitaka inhales deeply and returns to his meditation. That was the last time he saw her, never returning for lessons or visits again; the small ray of sunshine made his lonesome cell dark and alone with his thoughts.

Days or weeks have passed, and Tripitaka wasn't certain how long he's been trapped, but none of that matter as today was his final day in this life. The guards came and announced it before they escorted him from the dingy dungeon to the opulent stone palace. So many twists and turns that made his head spin. It was like a labyrinth and only the residents would know the exit. It was hopeless to even attempt an escape. Before the guards arrived in a room with a tray of food and wine. So the Great Sage had some compassion to allow him one final supper, even if it was back handed to him.

The guards toss him onto the stone floor, the rugs his only means to dampen his fall and the cold before they turn and slam the door with a laugh. He can still hear them through the thick wood as he dusts himself off. If he listens more closely, he can hear the chattering of servants as he sits with his eyes closed.

“Today's finally here!”

“All the Sages under one roof like before the Great War. This will be the perfect mend between our alliance!”

“I heard the Demon Bull King is bringing his son, but not his first wife. I wonder if one of his servants has juicy gossip about that.”

“Grandfather Sun has picked such a perfect day to celebrate, such an auspicious day!”

“Shifu.” A hush whisper against his ear and hands quickly press to stop any sounds of panic slipping through his mouth. “It's me, Young Sun.” Tripitaka finally relaxes and opens his eyes as her arms slip past his head. “I meditated and reflected before I finally found the answer.” He shuffles until he can see Young Sun and softly gasps at the sight. “I decided to fully dedicate myself to be your disciple and helping you on your journey.”

The candle's lights shine beautifully against her freshly shaven head and just beyond, over her shoulder from his view, a hidden passage. “We don't have much time Shifu, we have to hurry before they find ou-”

Just as Young Sun helps bring her master to his feet, a scream bounces and echoes off the walls, cutting through all else and sending the whole palace in a flurry. “Yángguāng! Someone took our Yángguāng!”

Sun Yángguāng wastes no time as she guides her master through the secret passage and closes it behind them. She has to be quick and clever for them to escape. She hoped Aunty RinRin wouldn't check up on her for another thirty minutes, but she should've expected today's excitement that Aunty Rinrin wanted her to look her best for the guests. Her hands reach for his, and she presses a finger to her lip before navigating the secret passage; crossing one room to reach a new one without notice. One day, Young Sun will apologize for the fright she given to Aunty RinRin over the mess of her room, but not today.

The two pause and stop whenever footsteps drawing near are heard, only to go a different direction. She leads downwards, deeper into the stone palace, “Trust me, Shifu.” As if she knew his doubts, and gave a squeeze to the monk's hand. Tripitaka says nothing, but squeezes her hand back.

The smell of a salty breeze, cracks of moonlight dances on the small craven dock. “This is how the elders survived the burning.” Young Sun helps Tripitaka into the small boat, barely enough room for the two of them between boxes and jars. “Forgive me for my absence. I was getting preparations ready, and it wasn't easy to go unnoticed. It's the downside of being the youngest and only mortal of my kingdom.”

He watches her untie the ropes and use the oar to push away from dry land. “I hope the king was drinking his fill before that scream, I don't think I can outsmart him when his mind isn't dull with wine. Hopefully there is mercy and we leave without his notice.”

Gently, the oar glides and swishes in the water as the boat exits the cave and into the open; neither of them dare light a lantern nor talk as the sounds of shouting and soon fighting rang out from the island. They keep their eyes forward as the sounds are slowly drowned by the waves splashing against the boat on their journey to the west.

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write something where walker scobell and reader like each other, are super obvious about it but also super oblivious when it comes to knowing each others feelings? (bonus points if the cast of percy jackson is involved and all know about their feelings for each other)! 🎀

aweeee oh my lord yes!!! stop this is so fucking cute wtffff 😭🙏 ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!! ; ALSO!! this features a random oc because apparently no one from the older cast other than Charlie and Aryan can be normal so 🤞, oc is supposed to be like a bg character for one of Luke's friends in the show anyways!!! ; sorry this turned out so bad after you waited so long for it LMAO

WALKER SCOBELL ; oblivious

summary ; youre both oblivious to each other's feelings, and your costars need to help push you together

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I mentioned some stores/brands that I'm pretty sure are zionist corps, so please don't go support them! this is just a fanfic, don't see this as advertisement bc these places kinda suck anyways. free palestine and do your daily clicks on arab.org

word count ; 1.6k

masterlist

"You're so stupid," Aryan sighs, walking next to you toward the mall entrance.

Leah and Walker walk ahead of you two, both talking about whatever they wanted to do while they were here. Charlie and Jordan walk behind you, acting as your parental gaurdians because apparently at ages 14-17, you weren't responsible enough to walk around a mall yourselves and needed a pair of 19 year olds by your side.

"He doesn't like me, and I don't like him, Aryan. Get it through your thick skull" You chuckle.

"Uh huh" He nods sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Walker and Leah quickly turn around, walking backwards. "Come on, we're going to Target!"

You and Aryan share a look and quickly chase after them, Charlie and Jordan walking behind all of you like uninterested parents.

You jog across the top floor of the mall and take the escalator down right in front of Target, heading for the interior doors. Leah, Walker, and Aryan head towards the children's toys aisles while you find yourself distracted in the music department. Charlie and Jordan walk around the store, just browsing while you younger teens do whatever. They weren't going to be responsible for any destruction.

You scan through the CDs, looking for anything you didn't have that you found interesting. You pick up a Conan Gray CD, one of his new album Found Heaven. You look to the left, seeing Walker quickly walking towards you, nearly walking into some lady's cart around a corner of one of the aisles.

"Hey." You chuckle, making it clear you saw him nearly get his hip busted by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi" The blonde smiles nervously, "What're you up to?"

You hold up the CD, "Browsing"

He nods, "I've never listened to him, should I?" He asks, beginning to flip through the CDs himself.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Walker, how have you never listened to Conan Gray?..."

He shrugs, "I dunno"

"I'm forcing you to listen to him in the car."

"Okay, okay"

You continue looking through the CDs, seeing if they had anything else to your interest. For a split second, your shoulder brushes against his, considering you were standing so close.

You keep quiet, feeling your face heat up a bit. He feels the same way, unbeknownst to you. You nervously glance at each other, milliseconds apart so you never saw the opposite look.

"Walker, we found water guns!"

"They're so awesome, I could literally just stare at them all day while they talk about their favorite movie" The curly haired blonde smiles, slowly strolling down the lower half of the mall with Aryan and Leah at his side. "I don't think I've ever smiled and laughed so much than when I'm with them, seriously. Everything about them is so amazing, like, I could marry them here and now"

"And you said you don't have a crush on them," Leah states sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You're something else"

"I don't have a crush on them!" Walker exclaims, the plastic bag in his hand slinging back and forth as he walked, spinning it around his fingers. "I was just describing what I like about them, yeesh"

The two look at him with similar expressions.

"You have a crush on them. Accept it, dude." Aryan sighs, patting Walker on the shoulder. "I'm like, 99% sure they feel the same way as well"

"Shut up!"

"Walker!"

"Quiet!"

You instantly connect the disembodied voice to your familiar blonde friend, having been grabbing a pretzel with Jordan and Charlie. You were stealing their money for food since you'd spent fifty dollars on CDs, plus an extra one for Walker. Thank God Charlie knew who his favorite band was, you'd wanted to get him an actual gift before you left for home tomorrow.

Jordan and Charlie sat down at one of the tables next to the big escalator in the middle of the mall, in clear earshot of the trio who just walked out of Bath and Body Works. They send a shared expression to Leah and Aryan, and they both nod back.

Walker doesn't notice, considering he was busy ranting about how he doesn't have a crush on you and was more focused on his body language and speaking with his hands then figuring out who or what his friends were looking at.

You walk to the table, get a look at the trio, their backs face towards you, and you hand Charlie and Jordan their food.

The two are oddly quiet as they munch down, which makes you question if they're conspiring against you. You ignore it, though, wanting to enjoy your pretzel while you had it.

Charlie and Jordan finally start conversation as you finish up your pretzel and soda, which you devoured. They were talking about some TV show they liked as you stood up, threw your garbage away, and headed toward the bathrooms. You leave the elder teens alone, walking down the dim side-hallway to the restrooms.

Charlie quickly pulls out his phone once your back was to them and calls Aryan. He was with Leah and Walker across the mall, where he and Leah had sneakily set Walker up to get you a little gift. The teens converse quietly and privately, not wanting their victims to hear.

"Yeah, he's inside with Leah, where's Y/n?"

"Restroom" Jordan answers, as they'd FaceTimed him. She pushes her dark hair away from her face as she speaks.

"Okay, where are you guys going next? We're going to Barnes and Noble back near you guys, on the top floor." Aryan informs

"Alright, we'll go fix my phone plan really quick and head over" Jordan nods, looking at Charlie for approval.

He nods as well, and quickly whispers bye as he hangs up. You walk back toward them with a light smile, asking where you were going next.

"We're gonna fuck around with my phone bill, and-"

"-Meet them at the food court!" Charlie finishes, trying to keep you and Walker apart for a moment. He sends a glance to Jordan, who pulls out her phone.

"Oh, okay" You shrug.

After joining Jordan to be a Karen to get her phone bill fixed, you three head up to the food court to meet up with Walker, Leah, and Aryan. As you sit down with them, they all make excuses to leave or go to different spots to get food. That leaves you and Walker at the table alone, both of you unable to start conversation.

You'd just eaten the biggest pretzel of your life, and it turns out he had a milkshake not too long ago. You both nervously smile at each other, biting your nails and fidgeting your fingers a bit. Aryan and Charlie watch from the Noodles and Company line, trying to see if you'd hand over your gifts for each other.

Right on queue, you decide to just give Walker the CD you'd gotten for him, not wanting to miss the sort-of-private opportunity to give it to him. You pull it out of the plastic bag that rests on the floor next to your feet. You hand it to him over the table, awaiting his reaction.

He quickly smiles and looks up at you. "Is that for me?"

"Duh"

He graciously accepts the gift, looking at it front and back over and over again. "How did you know I liked David Bowie?"

You shrug with a smug smile. "One, everyone likes Bowie, two, I know more about you than you think"

He playfully and lightly scoffs with a smile. "Thank you. Actually! That reminds me, I got you something too"

He reaches into the bag that sat next to him, and pulls out a few candy bars and bags, and slides them over the table for you. One of those is a lollipop shaped like a rose.

You smile and give him a warm thank you, laying your eyes on the Twizzlers for the most part.

"Y'know, I have a feeling I'm gonna like Conan Gray in the car"

"Oh, you will, trust me"

In the distance, Aryan and Charlie share looks.

"They're so head over heels for each other" Charlie sighs, "Can they just kiss already?"

Aryan nods, "We need to really push them together"

"How?"

"We'll ask Jordy and Leah"

"Sounds like a plan"

You and Walker sit side by side, smiles on your faces as you rest on the ledge of the fountain. You look back at all the silver and copper coins in the water, shimmering under the rippling water.

"And the whole thing exploded all over me! It was the dumbest thing ever"

You chuckle, listening to Walker talk about some science project exploding all over him in seventh grade.

"Y'know, you're like, really cool" He smiles, nervously glancing at Aryan.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, "Oh, uhm, thank you. You're cool too, dude" You lightly punch his shoulder.

"No, like, cool cool" He clarifies.

You look over at your four friends, all wearing sunglasses, acting like they weren't spying on your conversation, on their phones or looking away nervously.

"Is this some kind of setup?"

"No!" He quickly replies, "I just, like, think you're really cool" He says, feeling too nervous to go out and ask the question or confess his feelings.

Leah groans and stands up, Aryan at her side.

"Just kiss already!" She says, throwing her hands in the air, "This show is too slow!"

"Kiss!" Aryan cheers, "Please! Do it already! It hurts to watch this anymore"

You look back at Walker, cheeks and ears as red as a stop sign.

Walker shrugs with a nervous look, which you share with him.

"Okay, well, I'm not kissing you on the ledge of a mall fountain"

"Yeah, I get that one"

[bellaireland1981]

Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents. 

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach. 

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.” 

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything. 

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you. 

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him. 

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.” 

“I love you, Stud.” You said,  snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close. 

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet. 

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised. 

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before.  “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded. 

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt. 

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you. 

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks. 

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water. 

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.” 

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt. 

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking. 

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore. 

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!” 

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort. 

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.” 

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it. 

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

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[runnning-outof-time]

The Joys of Being a Girl Dad | Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons (set in Girl Dad series)

Request: no - written for @justrainandcoffee ‘s 2 year ‘Alfieversary’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (x Reader mentioned) & Alfie Solomons (x fem!OC & child OC mentioned)

Summary: Tommy stops by Margate to congratulate an old associate…adversary…friend.

Warnings: language (it’s Tommy and Alfie we’re talking about here), a slight bit of Cyril slander

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to write something for your celebration, Flor!! I guess I could call this a present for Rose’s 1 year anniversary too now, even though she’s not really in it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful au with us!!

A/N 2: I should also say that this story was supposed to be shorter, but I just kinda became invested and ran away with it…I hope you don’t mind. Also it’s been a bit since I’ve written for Alfie, so I hope he’s not too ooc here. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Who let you in?” the man who was sitting facing the open balcony door asked.

“How’d you know it was me?” the other man, who was standing at the entrance of the room, responded with his own question.

“Smelt the smoke and horse shit the second you stepped through that archway,” the first man mused, earning a snort from the second. “So I’ll ask again: who let you in?”

“Your wife…”

“Figures she did,” the first man cut the second off, muttering the comment under his breath.

“Your wife’s assistant let me in after she told me to get lost and slammed the door in my face,” the rest of the statement was shared, which made the first man finally spin in his seat to look back towards the archway.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the two men staring at each other from several paces away…much like they had on that fated day all those months ago. “So why didn’t ya listen to her?” the first man finally broke the quiet, his quip conjoined with a look of query.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Alfie?” the second man asked, his eyebrows just slightly raised.

“It has,” the first man nodded, pursing his lips together for a moment before he continued, “yet it is still sooner than the day in which I thought I’d see Tommy Shelby again.”

Tommy Shelby just shook his head at the man’s remark, looking at the ground as he pursed his lips. It didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why’re you here then?” Alfie asked, still wanting to get to the bottom of the Birmingham man’s presence. However, he interjected again before said man even had the chance to speak: “you’ve come to finish me off, haven’t ya? Since ya couldn’t get it right the first time.”

“I’ve come with something,” Tommy answered, not even bothering to respond to Alfie’s second comment.

He then stepped towards the chair that the other man was sitting in, his hands still behind his back. Anyone else would have wondered if maybe they’d got it right…maybe he was actually there to finish his old adversary off. But Alfie wasn’t bothered in the slightest. No, he could tell from the manner in which Tommy approached him.

“I want to offer a congratulations…on your daughter,” Tommy finished his statement once he was standing in front of Alfie. Alfie looked him over with raised eyebrows, wondering just how a busy, business-minded man like him would have gotten such information. “(Y/N) told me the news. She got word of it from Rose,” Tommy gave the curious man some more information.

“That Rosie…” Alfie mused with a slight shake of his head, “I had a feelin’ that she hadn’t cut off all contact with you Shelbys.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his wife still keeping up a regular correspondence with the wife of the man who’d shot him.

(Y/N) and Rose had hit it off practically from the moment they met each other. Their friendship went beyond their husbands’ business partnership, and so when one disgruntled husband aimed a gun at the other and pulled the trigger, the two women tried hard not to let it come completely between them. There some time where radio silence prevailed…actually most out the time over the course of the last year was filled with radio silence, but it didn’t seem like a beat was missed when Rose contacted (Y/N) to tell her of the newest addition to the Solomons family.

Although Tommy was more hesitant to make amends, he couldn’t deny his wife’s request to deliver something to the newest Solomons.

“She wanted me to give you this,” Tommy then said, finally revealing the tan, stuffed rabbit that he’d brought with him. “To give to her,” he included, making his intentions more clear.

“I knew you weren’t givin’ me a stuffed rabbit,” Alfie quipped, snorting to himself before continuing, “or at least I hope you were plannin’ to.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing that, Alfie, no,” Tommy shook his head, dismissing the comment before it gained any ground. “The rabbit’s for your girl.”

Alfie took a moment to look over the other man again. He was still holding the rabbit out in front of him, waiting for Alfie to take it. Tommy wondered how long Alfie was going to make him stand like this.

Finally he took it. “She’ll like it,” Alfie stated, eyeing over the animal from close up now. He couldn’t deny that it felt soft in his hands. Allie would surely love it. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“My three couldn’t go to bed without it,” Tommy commented, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of his three daughters and the love they had for that very stuffed rabbit.

A look of realization flashed across Alfie’s face as he heard Tommy’s comment. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran it down his cheek slowly, stroking his beard as if he was in thought. “Have a seat,” he then said, gesturing to the chair that was set directly across from the one he was sitting in. He waited until the other man was seated before continuing, “three girls, huh?” he mused, sounding like he was talking more so to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re a dad that’s got all girls, hence the fucking term girl dad…stick with it, Tommy,” the response came laden with derision.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at the other man’s comments, looking to the ground as he let the air cool off before he cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yeah, a girl dad then.” He ran a hand along the back of his head as he spoke, wondering if he was even using the term correctly. Alfie didn’t comment, so he guessed that he didn’t seem to care none.

Instead the newer father continued on with the conversation. “Does it ever get hard?”

“What? Being a girl dad?” Tommy looked over at him again.

“No, not being able to hit your fucking mark when you’re fifteen fucking paces away,” Alfie retorted, “yes, being a girl dad,” he then exaggerated his words.

Tommy bit his tongue yet again. He wasn’t here to get into a fight with Alfie Solomons. The rabbit currently sitting in the other man’s lap was supposed to serve as a sort of olive branch.

“It does,” he finally answered after a moment’s pause.

“Give me some fuckin’ detail, mate,” Alfie asked.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alfie,” Tommy sighed under his breath, pressing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids. He cleared his throat again as he thought of how he’d answer the question. “It’s been hard from the moment we brought Thea home. A different sort of hard than the ‘hard’ I’ve experienced prior. But it’s also been rewarding...with Thea, then Evie and now Juniper. I’ve learned more from them than from anything else I’ve ever done.”

Alfie took a moment to digest what his confidant had just shared with him. He truly didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to come out with such meaningful statements. I guess even the worst of men can change their tones, he thought to himself. “I didn’t know ya had it in ya, Tommy,” he commented, exuding a breath of a laugh as he shook his head.

Tommy kept his eyes locked on Alfie unsure of how to respond to his comment. He wondered if this was all some sort of game…if Alfie now wanted to toy with him; getting him to open up just to use the information against him.

“Thanks for sharing it though. I, uh…” Alfie paused, the sound of his voice cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and making him focus in again. “I’ll take all of the help I can get with this one. They say that raising a child takes a fucking village, or however that fucking saying goes.”

“There’s a great deal of joy in it too,” Tommy made sure to add, hoping to convey that having daughters, or kids at all for that matter, wasn’t only stressful. “I just know that I wouldn’t be able to do it without (Y/N) though.”

“That’s the same with me and my Rosie. A fuckin’ trooper, that woman is,” Alfie agreed in regards to his wife. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Rose Solomons. He genuinely owed his life to her…and he was going to spend the rest of it showing her.

Silence fell between the two men then, both sitting comfortably in their thoughts of the women they had in their lives, and of how much their respective wives meant to them. The silence hung until the sound of small feet came pattering off of the hardwood in the hallway.

“Daddy! Daddy!” a shrill voice of a small girl soon accompanied the hurried footsteps. Said girl quickly appeared in the archway of Alfie office. Along with her frantic demeanor, Alfie was also able to see streaks of tears on her chreks.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“Cyril chewed on my stuffie, daddy!” she exclaimed, hiccuping as she spoke through her tears. “It was my favorite stuffie!”

“Awe now love, I’m sorry about that,” Alfie began, opening his arms to the child as she came over to him. She quickly fell into them, and he wasted no time in hugging her tightly. “He’s just a brute that knows nothing of favorite stuffies,” he consoled her as she continued to sniffle her tears away.

Tommy watched on as the moment played out in front of him. He laughed to himself as hearing the reason behind the problem at hand took him back to the moments where Cyril had chewed his girls’ stuffies; there had to have been several instances during the dog’s stay at Arrow House.

“I don’t have a stuffie now, daddy,” Allie whimpered, finally lifting her head from her father’s chest. “Mum said it was too covered in slobber to be saved.”

“Well I’ve got just the fix for ya, Allie,” Alfie began, unwrapping one of his arms from her so that he could blindly search for the stuffed rabbit that Tommy had just handed him. He continued when he found the animal, “now I know it’s no bear, and I know that your favorite stuffies have all been bears, but this lovely little lass was just placed upon my lap moments before you came runnin’ in.”

Allie’s eyes immediately found the rabbit, and she had it in her tight embrace within an instant. “This stuffie is so soft! And she has a lovely bow!” she observed, now beaming with excitement. “Thank you so much, daddy!” she smiled at her father.

“Thanks have to go to that man,” Alfie told his daughter, nodding in Tommy’s direction. He bit his tounge and stopped the urge to add ‘the one who shot your father’ because even he knew this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want to bring that feud into Allie’s realm.

“What’s his name?” Allie asked in a loud whisper, her shy eyes finding Tommy’s.

“Tell ‘er your name, mate,” Alfie beckoned Tommy to share the information.

“It’s Tommy,” the other man followed suit, smiling as he spoke.

Allie observed him for a moment, surely trying to decide what she felt about him. A few beats of silence passed before a smile formed on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Tommy,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re welcome, Allie,” Tommy nodded, his smile widening.

“Dad you have to yell at Cyril now,” Allie turned back to her dad, a deep frown present on her face.

“I’ll make sure he knows what he’s done,” Alfie assured her, “go play, love.”

With one last smile, Allie hopped off of her father’s lap and exited the room almost as quick as she entered it.

“That fuckin’ dog…” Alfie trailed off, shaking his head, “why’d you give him back?”

“You wanted him back, Alfie,” Tommy answered in a monotone voice.

“You may be right,” Alfie conceded, cracking a smile as he thought about the dog.

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

“She is, ain’t she?” Alfie answered, “light of my fuckin’ life, that girl…both her and her mum.”

Tommy nodded, his mind going to his wife and daughters. There was no doubt that he shared the same sentiment towards his girls.

Oh, the joys of being a girl dad…even if — or rather when, because it’ll surely happen again — Tommy and Alfie were at odds with each other, they’ll always have the shared title as something they can both relate to.

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello! Recently I've been reading your works (usually twst, disney and sometimes oc) and im really interested.

I would like to request yandere cinderella x reader please if thats okay!

Im not sure if there is any request rules i should follow since i cant really find any or if its open so sorry if i broke any of them! Btw no need to answer this if you aren't interested or dont have the energy, im just curious in how you would write them since they are very unique and nicely written. Remember please take care of yourself and take rest when you need to!! (since you literally post almost everyday)

I try I do post everday, though I'm surprised anyone noticed 🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Genderbend Cinderella x Reader

To say you didn’t like you’re step-brother would be an understatement. 

You hated him. 

Him and all that he stood for.

It was disgusting, how wicked Ellwick was to you and your family. Not wicked in the way that he looked down on you; more so in the way that his existence was an obstacle to yours. Currently he made it his mission to insert himself where he never belonged, constantly upending your rightful place. You remembered the time before the single father and son duo shoved their way into your family’s lives. It was peaceful, well as peaceful as life with your family could be. Guns, knifes, drugs, cement shoes–the life that meant serving your family and running the city from behind the scenes. Your mother, your brother, and the many associates that joined your family. 

What can you say? Blood is binding especially when spilt.

Cinder Ellwick and his father came into your home under the silly notion of ‘healthy’ love. As if fighting alongside one another wasn’t love, these men marched into your lives expecting to ‘fix’ your already perfect family. 

Your brother and the many others could spot the foolishness in their morale, unfortunately your mother could not. Which devastated her the moment her new husband got his rightful comeuppance. 

“He shouldn’t have joined the game, if he didn’t know how to play.” 

Your brother scoffed under his breath during your mother’s mournful eulogy. You couldn’t help but agree. Only irritating you more when your mother dressed in black brought the blonde-headed boy to you two saying something along the lines of him being a permanent burden on your family.

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

So what? It was his fault for getting involved! His fault for getting kidnapped! His fault for refusing to arm himself, when you warned him! So why did you, your family, have to live with the nuisance?

“I’m going to try my best, to be apart of this family. Properly this time.”

“That’s good to hear, Ellwick.”

Not long after that he took up the role as you’re family’s cleanup crew, eliminating those your family marked. Unpaid debts and traitors were his targets, the scum of your faction–perfect level for Ellwick to begin truly becoming apart of this family. You’d think that’d be enough for him to feel included. But that’s just like him to be so greedy.

“May I come with you on that mission?”

Ellwick asked, still panting from running down the halls from Mother’s office trying to catch up to you and your brother. You both were prepared, dressed to the nines in comparison to him who was in a dirtied leather suit. It'd be a burden and embarrassment for him to come.

Your brother laughed, ” No chance! Look at you covered in cinders again! What’d you do, wrestle your target in a fire pit?”

Ellwick awkwardly smiled as your brother held his stomach. Laughter rising and eyes widening as if he had an epiphany. He points at the blonde, who barely winces at the pressure.

“Kind of like–Cinderwick! Haha!” 

You rolled your eyes as he repeated the name inbetween his belly laughs. Ellwick’s smile was twitching on the otherhand turning his attention to you. Glaring at him you ushered your brother away, barely turning your head to the crushed boy.

“You can’t. We won’t be letting an outsider handle things as private as this.”

Many of your interactions would go like this. Cinderwick inserting himself in your personal business and you putting him in his place, your latest mission was no different. Only that you were older and more responsibility will have fallen to you. You had to step up more than ever.

“Alright my children as we discussed you will be infiltrating the gathering. Your target is the first son of the Mayor. Blackmail, romance him, kiss up, we need a foothold on the city. I can only trust my children.”

“Than why is he here?” 

You shifted your eyes to the blond hitman who was standing barely a foot you and your brother. Your mother sighed.

“We need all hands on deck. Our competitors are in attendance as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try anything and I just can’t have my babies be put in danger.”

She held both you and your brother’s cheeks pinching it a little. Leaning into her touch you happily smiled at her over-endearment. Whereas your brother recoiled and wriggled away nursing his cheek.

“Aw geez Ma will you stop.”

“Now my children.” She looked to Ellwick.”All my children. I wish you the best.” 

______________________________________________________________

It was almost commendable, how fast Cinderwick managed to do it. Wooing the son of the mayor and leading him on a wild goose chase that ultimately led to a grand proposal. To which he accepted. 

There was a nervousness about him being the victor; a sudden power handed to someone who wasn’t apart of the family. He was in a position of power, a position that allowed him to string your family along. 

“Congratulations my son! We’re happy you’ve found love in such a place!” 

Sugarcoated words and fake pearly smiles were the next step in the mission. Officially tying the mayor to your family…all with a man who wasn’t apart of the family. 

“Oh thank you step-mother! I can’t wait to have you and the family at our wedding.”

Your mother’s eye twitched at the ‘step’ but she maintained her smile letting Cinderwick cuddle into his fiance’s arm as they continued to chatter. It was revolting that it was he who returned to the estate with a cocky smile and a ring on his finger.

“Well you told all your children to do your best and they tried. So I will take the mantle up…as long as you agree to my terms.”

The following sentence had your mother sending you and your brother out of the room–treatment originally reserved for an outsider like him. Your brother stomped away dropping his emotionless persona, you followed.

“ARGH! How the heck did that slimy cinderblock idiot get ahead of us!? This is ridiculous!”

“...We tried…Arthur don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”

He turned to you the fire in his eyes directed to you.

“Tried?! We should’ve easily bested that bag of soot!” 

Turning back around he made his way to his office slamming his mini fridge open to reveal a plethora of beers and cheap wine bottles. You thought you threw those out. You debated staying as he quickly began to chug the drinks haphazardly dropping the finished cans to the ground. 

“Arthur. Don’t drink anything else.”

“Why!? Why wasn’t it me or you even!?”

“Well for one, typical romance isn’t exactly our field of expertise. I don’t know what you exp–”

You were cutoff by the ceramic smashing near the wall behind your head. Barely missing you it was lucky all you got was a cut from the ricochet glass shatter. It didn’t bother you, it seemed shallow, so you pressed further entering the room more. Closing and locking the door behind you as you closed in on your brother aiming to simply hug him. 

It didn’t stop his drinking bout but it did bring him to a wobbly pause. Letting you slowly walk him away from the desk the alcohol sat. As if he was being taunted once he got barely three steps away he wrenched himself from your grip darting towards the alcohol. In his raw distracted strength he barely pushed you back into the decorative cabinet. 

You would have repeated your attempt if it weren’t for the sudden grip of Ellwick’s leather glove on your wrist. Naturally you pulled yourself away or tried to. Struggling against his bone breaking hold, you ultimately relented as Arthur began to shove off the contents on his desk. Ellwick easily shoved you out of the room, successfully doing so. With that same force he pushes you against the wall, trapping you against it with his narrowed irises and presence alone.

“What are you doing?!”

“Its none of your business.”

“It is every bit my business! Why would you go anywhere near him when he’s in a drunken rage?”

“Because he’s family!” Your voice cracked with emotion, daring to look up at his softened blue eyes. With faux cough, you fixed yourself staring head on to the blonde before slipping past him.

“I don’t expect you to understand that though.”

Speed-walking out of the hall, your only goal was to return to your room hoping to finally relieve the burning sensation in your eyes. Ellwick on the other hand watched you walk away more specifically the cut that had let blood of yours trickle down. 

In a fury like none other Ellwick made his way to the closed door. It was time to end this. 

For good.

_____________________________________________________________

“My son. I want you to know I will always love your mother and I’ll never stop loving her.”

“Right.”

“But I’ve found someone who makes me happy! Someone who will cherish me and you!”

“Okay.”

“The thing is…she has a very different line of work.”

Ellwick wasn’t sold. Even as young as he was there wasn’t an inherent attraction to the mafia-life. When he had the chance to he’d read a torrent of love-stories and twisted family relations all with mafia environments. It usually ended in death, somehow bringing a foreboding cloud over this new developement. 

*Click*

“Whoa whoa little one I get that I’m not a replacement for any–”

“My gun. Take it.”

“E-excuse me?”

Ellwick didn’t really register you before this. Eyes widening as someone as tiny as you easily cocked and flipped the butt of a gun in the direction of his father. Wielding the weapon he’d only seen on those forbidden adult movies with such ease. A silent urgency on your part, you were offering your gun with a custom handle of your favorite color. 

It was an uncharacteristic show of kindness. 

The first he’d seen in a while. 

Since the announcement of your parent’s engagement there was a tension birthed among your closest members and your family. It was a clear sentiment that they dared not express with Ellwick in the room or their boss for that matter.

‘You’re going to be a target. You’re going to die.’

Everyone wanted to say it. Hint at it. But the air was too thick and they were too scared to break the silence. 

But not you.

You were the only one to tell it to him straight. Other than Ellwick himself. Of course the old geezer didn’t listen, avidly refusing to take your weapon and then attempting to get the weapon back from you.  

It made you his favorite.

To think underneath such a cold exterior there was something soft–small but soft. Its what Ellwick told himself when you’d glare and insult him. He’s never found himself doing the same for your mother and brother. Only finding it in him to imagine their tortuous ends at his hands, he could never do that with you. Even when he began to do his work, he’d be all the more motivated when imagining two-thirds of his step-family.

Step-family. He didn’t like that title.

He hated associating you with that.

He liked you a lot more than that of a step-family.

He could handle the exclusion, the insults, the glares, all of it but he couldn’t have you being in the arms of someone else. So he pulled something he’d thought he buried long ago, charming the mayor’s son. 

Having an influential leader’s heir willing to bend to his every whim and need made him powerful. 

A threat. 

So when your mother came to him practically begging for his forgiveness, Ellwick knew this was his chance to set everything in motion. So when you and your brother angrily departed he was prepared.

“The bit of your faction, handselected at my beck and call.”

“Done. You inform us of the policies and actions of the mayor?”

“Policies and upcoming legislation only. I’m not stalking my in-law.’

“Fine.“

“We meet once a month, I’ll come to you.”

“We can do that. Be willing to let your siblings visit you in-home during ermengenies?”

“Yes…I want (Y/n).”

“Excuse me?”

“I want (Y/n).

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am. I want full ownership of (Y/n) their activities, everything. Otherwise I’ll be inclined to fully inform the mayor and police department of what your true business entails.”

“I can’t possibly give you my child! Who do you think I am?!”

Ellwick made a face. Naturally and quickly pulling a gun out of his suit, earning a horrified reaction from his stepmother who was staring at the barrel. It’s not that Ellwick was unaware of the metal detectors and constant pat downs but when you’re a trained assassin this is light work.

“The same idiot, who thought’d I’d always be cleaning your messes. The same idiot who’s been ostracizing me and still put a gun in my hand.” 

He moved closer but not close enough for his step-mother’s garrote-technique to be effective. He was almost inclined to reveal his companions ‘guarding her door or the poisoned dart in his cuff link. But he decided it wouldn’t be needed…not today at least.

“The same idiot who’s blind to the abusive alcholic she raised. That is more than likely hurting (Y/n) right now.”

“What’re you–”

“That’s what your first-husband was like, right? An alchoholic who ran the mafia with an iron fist.”

“Enough!...Fine. You can take them with you after your honeymoon.”

“Before.”

“Why would you–” 

“Be-fore.”

“....It will be…done.”

When she finished, Ellwick had full intentions to find you. No doubt cooking up a barrage of insults to cutely angrily whisper behind you’re door. But before he could make it to your room, he heard the sound of glass shattering and muffled yelling.

He could only see red. Red as the cut that was bleeding on your skin. 

Seems like his role as the family’s ‘cleanup crew’ would come in handy.

[sarahsmi13s]

Just a Little Guidance

whumptober day 6: forced to hurt someone

pairing: tim bradford x reader (oc last name: blake)

characters: tim bradford, y/n blake, zoe andersen, jackson west, john nolan, lucy chen, thane riggs (oc villain)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, blood, fighting, stabbing, mentions of SA, being held captive, forced to hurt someone, forced to hurt partner, crying, quitting, if i missed anything please please please let me know

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary:

You stood in front of Captain Andersen’s desk, hands shaking as you listened to her tell you about everything that would need to happen before you could return to duty. 

Tonguing your split lip, you shook your head. Tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at your trembling, still blood stained, hands as your shield and gun rested in them

How could they let you back to work after everything that happened? Tim was still in the hospital, you got to leave after just a few days. But what you saw, what you and Tim experienced over those two weeks… you couldn’t trust yourself.

“I-I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t,” you said softly, your bruised and busted hands curling around the items in your them.

She tilted her head, “I’m not sure I understand.” 

You sat your shield and gun on her desk, “I’m not coming back… I’m sorry… but I quit.”

Zoe nodded, giving you a sympathetic look as you avoided her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” You shook your head before she was even finished. “No, I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t. I’m quitting, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and left.

You sat curled up in the hospital chair, just staring at Tim’s unconscious form laying there in the bed.

There were words stuck in your throat. It was like they were coming up sideways, choking you before coming up in broken fragments on your tongue.

What the hell could you say? Tim was laying in a hospital bed because of you. You had put him there. An apology just wouldn’t make that go away. Make what you did go away.

You sat in the uncomfortable chair, picking scabs and prodding at bruises as your mind replayed everything. Never giving you a chance to rest or forget what you did.

“I’m sorry, Tim… I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, looking down at your blood covered hands. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Tim winced at the way your hands tried to patch him up from the wounds you had put there that day. “You’re doing this to protect yourself and for us to survive. I’m not mad.” 

You shook your head, “I should be stronger than this…” 

“Thane is a fucking psycho, do not put this blame on yourself,” he grunted as he sat up. “Hey, look at me.” You sniffled and looked up, “I’m hurting you, Tim. I shouldn’t hurt you, under any circumstance… even this. I should have let him–”“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that.” 

“You were ready to take a bullet for me!”

“Because you don’t deserve to die!”“And you do?!”

You panted a little, “I shouldn’t be hurting you… I don’t want to hurt you.” He grabbed your hand, not caring about his own blood slicking up his hand. “I know that, and I can handle it. They’re coming, I know they are. I can hold out until then.” 

“But what if I can’t?”

After that conversation it was eerie silence as you both tried to sleep.

It was hard for you to fall asleep. The copper scent of Tim’s blood on your hands made you sick to your stomach . The substance was sticky and drying to your skin. Thane wasn’t allowing you to wash your hands, letting Tim’s blood dry on your hands in layers.

And when you woke up the next day it was your turn.

You were simply a punching bag. Though Thane would call it a ‘boxing match’. If you won, the next day you wouldn’t have to hurt Tim and you both got a decent meal with fresh water.

But you couldn’t win. 

You had gotten close the first few times. But Thane was an ex-Navy SEAL so he could take you down like it was nothing. And as time went on, you got weak. You didn’t have the energy to put up a decent fight and even give yourself hope. The only reason you still attempted was to keep Tim safe.

That night you sat on the floor with your head down and an arm clutching your side as your ribs ached. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Tim grunted as he turned to look at you, “Why are you sorry?” You sniffled, “I can’t win…” “You’re not supposed to win. He just likes to give you hope…” 

“I can’t keep doing this Timmy… hurting you, I can’t…” 

“If you don’t-”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to kill you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond and just got in your bed and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Thane woke you up with gentle caresses on your face.

“Time to wake up,” he said gently, pulling you up and to your feet. “C’mon we have a big day ahead of us.” 

You whimpered as he pulled you over to a table, gun pressed to your lower back. “Pick your first weapon.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, “No.” 

Thane growled and pulled harshly on your hair, making you look up at him. “You pick or I do, I won’t tell you again.” The gun digs into your back, “And you won’t like what I pick.”

You gritted your teeth as he pulled your hair harder, “I’m done playing your game. Shoot me.”

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Tim said, but his words were breathy. “I-I can take it.” 

“You hear that? He can take it,” Thane smirked before kissing your forehead. “Pick up the knife.”

“I said, no.”

He growled before slamming your face down on the table.

Tim looked away, jaw clenched as you cried out a little. You don’t blame him, you’d look away too. 

This position hadn’t been unfamiliar. 

Often after those boxing matches, Thane would use your weak state to release other frustrations. 

So you just closed your eyes and braced yourself.

“Oh look at you,” he cooed, his hand rubbing your back. “Mmmm you’ve learned. But right now isn’t about us. It’s about you and Tim. So pick up the knife or I will fuck you as you look your boyfriend in the eyes. Pick. It. Up.”

“Pick up the knife, Y/N…”

“Okay! Okay…”

Thane smirked and pulled you back up to stand. “Good girl.”

Your hand shook as you wrapped your fingers around the blade’s handle. The thought of turning and plunging it into your capture’s stomach flashed in your mind but you knew better. You weren’t fast enough and his trigger finger was quick.

Eyes filling with tears, Thane guided you forward.

“Stab him.”

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to face him. “W-what?”

“You heard me, stab him.”

“That wasn’t-”

“Do it or I'll shoot him in the head.”

You closed your eyes, sobbing as your hands shook violently. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay,” Tim reassured, kissing the top of your head.

But you didn’t believe him.

When it was just cuts or burns, it was easier to believe that he would be okay. But you could see that he was weak. He was shaking from blood loss and he could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was tired and breathy so he desperately tried to put authority in it.

But it wasn’t working.

You shook your head, crying openly as you brought up the knife.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as you found a spot on his torso and pushed the tip of the blade in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whispered tearfully, pulling the knife back out. 

You watch horrified as blood leaks out of the new wound and down his side. You had hurt him, again. It made you feel sick.

Suddenly, Thane’s right in your ear, his eyes on the bare half inch of blood on the blade.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t waste my time,” he growled. He wrapped his arms around you and put his hands on top of yours. 

“No, no please,” you begged through your tears, trying to fight him.

But your resistance was used in Thane’s favor as he used your combined force to plunge the knife into Tim’s stomach.

You gasped, feeling the sickening warm feeling of fresh blood coating your hands.

Tim couldn't hold back his shout of agony, gritting his teeth as tears came to his eyes. 

Thane leaned in, laughing in your ear as you sobbed, “Look at that, seems like all you needed was just a little guidance.” 

You covered your mouth, smearing blood on your face as your eyes stayed unmoving from the knife handle. You could have collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap if Thane hadn’t had arms around you.

“Ooooh not so fast there Y/N. One’s not going to cut it, sweetheart. Take it out and do it again.”

When you hesitated, Thane took your hands and wrapped them around the handle, “Take it-”

“LAPD DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

You sobbed in relief as Thane turned to who you recognized to be John Nolan, Bishop’s rookie.

“Put your weapon down and kick it over to me.” 

Thane followed his instructions, smart enough to know that he was cornered. 

You held Tim’s face, “It’s gonna be okay baby. They’re here, just like you said they would be.”

Tim had been unconscious when you said that, finally succumbing to the pain.

“Officer Blake?”

You jumped at the call of your name, being pulled from your memories as you looked up to see the three rookies. Jackson was the one to address you.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore Officer West…”

He nodded and swallowed, “Right we’re out of uni-”

“No, I quit… I’m not an officer anymore.”

The rookies’ eyes widened and they shared a look when your eyes moved to Tim.

“But you’re great at your-” 

You cut John off, bitterness in your tone, “If I was good at my job he wouldn’t be in this bed…”

You took a breath, finally letting yourself touch him and grabbing Tim’s hand. “I should have been stronger…”

“Thane’s a psychopath, who knows what situation we would be in had you held out longer,” Lucy tried, watching your glass eyes as they looked over Tim. “That doesn’t make you a bad cop…”

“I don’t trust myself… and being a good team requires trust. I can’t go back out onto the street if I do not trust myself, that’s how people get hurt.”

You shook your head, letting it fall between your shoulders. “It took just a little guidance and I plunged a knife into the man I love…”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Sugar daddy x "pure"! Reader

EEEEEEEEE Time to write my baby, the fruit of my dark rofan loins (jk) Basically, this yandere is my first yandere OC and when I gave life (lol) to him in Char/ai yesterday, I just knew he had to be next.

Also, I contemplated what title to give him since he's also a mafia boss, but I decided to go with Sugar daddy since it's the most integral part of his story.

Also, "pure" just means that you dress light, really. But in Rowan's eyes, you were like an angel, a pure being that he needs to taint (oops spoiler)

Yandere! Sugar daddy name: Rowan Silas (Yes, he even has a last name)

notes: Rowan is not old, OLD. He's not a Dilf/Gilf level sugar daddy. In his lore with my other OC (his love interest), he's older by five years. Also, reader has a womb, due to mentions of pregnancy (why did I do this pregnancy shit twice? Dunno really.)

TW: noncon pregnancy, trackers, nsfw stuff

ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN <3 (I don't even know if people will request but LOL just in case.)

The man only knew pain and crime all his life.

He never experienced anything good, apart from gunning down his enemies alive if that even means the same as what people deem as "good".

His life of crime was because of his adoptive father, who picked him up from the slums to become one of his personnel.

He was only seven by then. But his hands stained with blood as he killed the other kid who drowned his precious pet kitten in the lake. That's where his father knew that Rowan is not normal.

I mean, who would sport a smile while choking his fellow kid alive?

All Rowan said was "He deserved it though."

"He took what's precious from me."

That was enough to make his father set him straight to become the heir of the mafia family.

He grew up battered and bruised yet the vices he only knew is his smoking from his precious churchwarden pipe, and violence.

He told his father that it was enough for him.

Yet his body raged on, wanting more and more as greed consumed him for more.

Yes, he's a greedy man who wants more.

After all, he had nothing, then had one precious thing, then lost that thing. And then, when he eliminated the person who stole his precious thing, he got everything.

Did that make sense? To Rowan, it didn't.

He already got everything, but why does he want more?

So with a clean shot to the head, he killed his father and immediately inherited the family.

Now, he can spend the money and the resources as much as he wants. So he did. He went to casinos, brothels, luxury hotels and cruises. Everything he thinks that he needs.

But he still wants more. He still needs more.

And by god, he did get more.

He bumped into you one day, with you in your soft outfit of creams and pastels. Your pure, clean eyes made his heart skip a beat as you said sorry to him.

His greed triggered.

He wanted you so bad.

When he learned you needed a job when he saw your folder filled with resumes, he felt like he won the lottery.

"How about becoming my sugar baby? Don't worry, I won't ask anything. Much."

And as your cute figure pondered what to do, he smirked. You, in the middle of his dim office, in light clothing and an innocent face, was such a contrast in the dark office filled with his smoke from his beloved churchwarden pipe. You stuck out like a sore thumb, and he liked it.

He loved it.

And as your lips dropped the answer he wanted to hear, he shivered and gave you a lopsided smile.

"Good. Now, what do you want, love?"

Rowan sat down on his office chair, he cracked his neck and sighed.

He was bone tired. He just finished a cartel mission that he himself as the boss had to interfere. It was annoying because it was due to his incompetent new recruits.

At least they're sleeping with the "fishies", as what you call the finned sea creatures.

He grabbed something from his pocket and brought it up to his face. It was an intricate jeweled choker with a lot of rose gold arcs, jewels that match your eyes, and a diamond encrusted opal centerpiece.

He imagined you wearing it. Wrapping the choker on your neck himself, seeing your eyes flash in wonder and amazement. He imagined you also getting shy and saying that it was too expensive, and him saying that it was okay, and he wanted to give you this entirely by his own volition. And he got excited.

...In one way or another.

He chuckled and shook his head, swinging on his swivel chair as he dialed your number.

After two rings, you picked up.

"Love, come here. I got a gift for you."

You whined, getting shy again. He chuckled.

"You know what I say, I don't want to hear you say no. So come here now."

So you did.

Once you got there, he smiled and kissed your lips softly, bringing you close to him by your waist and lifting you up easily with his tatted arms.

"Come, I'll give you the present myself."

You got curious naturally.

He settled you in front of the floor length mirror which also saw... Much more intimate and sensual things you both did other than this gift giving thing he's doing.

Rowan slowly grabbed your hair and raised it, making you shiver with goosebumps from the action. He smirked, seeing you so flustered from the simple act of him grabbing your hair.

Well, that, and he also liked to grab your hair a lot while fucking you senselessly. There's that too.

You closed your eyes when he told you too, and you felt the familiar cold sensation of jewelry resting on your neck. But this time, it hugged it, making you open your eyes. It was the beautiful choker he was admiring earlier.

"Do you love it?" Rowan asked, looking at you through the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You nodded enthusiastically and said yes. He smirked.

This was the first time you didn't say to take the gift back with such a flustered apprehensive look. You're starting to get greedy.

He loved that. A lot.

"Now, how about you kiss me in return, hmm?" You rolled your eyes and gently kissed him. You know this day is not just going to end in a kiss.

But you didn't mind.

And he knows that.

You went home that day with Rowan driving you. He gave you more gifts that you shyly accepted once more, making Rowan shiver in glee. Again, you didn't reject them at all.

You're slowly getting tainted by his greediness.

And hopefully, you will be greedy enough to bring up your relationship to him, and tell him that you wanted more to this.

That you wanted his love.

Oh, he trembles at the thought.

It's not a question of if, but when, after all.

But now, he's just slowly moving forward with your relationship. Slow and steady wins the race, after all. Despite him living such a fast paced life, he knows he's patient enough to wait for you.

But if you backtracked and got out of his tight grasp...

Let's just say that the tracker he planted on your laptop, your phone, and now your precious choker will help him find you if you ran away.

You were the light to his dark, dreary life.

He'll be crazy enough to let you go.

And he's already crazy about you.

That's why he's making you addicted to him also. Showering you with gifts and love. Praising your body, worshipping it, pleasing it until you reach the heavens like the angel you are.

And if you still didn't want him... Let's just say the condoms with holes in them that he himself poked will do the trick.

It was a dirty tactic. But who cares? He's a mafia boss for god's sake. Dirty tactics aren't new to him.

And if you still somehow didn't end up pregnant and got to run away, he'll use his influence to find you.

You got no escape.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

You were his love. His greed.

With a drag of his churchwarden pipe, he drove off to plan your wedding.

You were going to be his after all.

No matter what.

I don't know if I did my baby Rowan justice i'm going crazY FUCK.

Can you guys tell I have favoritism? Because I do LOL

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (3)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 4.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open!

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

Part Two

_________

He dreamt of sparkling lights and cobblestone streets. When he roused consciousness, he thought he could smell pumpkin candles and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. 

He woke slowly, chasing after the smell and the visuals as they evaporated from his view. He blinked several times, adjusting to the fluorescent light and white walls of his hospital room. 

“Well well well, look who decided to wake up.” 

It took a moment for the words to register in his mind. He looked to his left, where he had grown accustomed to seeing you sitting, only you weren’t there this time. Instead, he saw someone he recognized very well, smirking at him like only she could. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he grunted out as he adjusted himself on the bed and raised it up so he wasn’t lying down as far, making it easier to look at her. 

“You look like shit,” she continued. 

Bradley snorted. “Thanks, Phoenix. Appreciate that.” 

The smirk on her face fell into a soft smile. She reached out and laid her hand on his, squeezing gently. “It’s good to see you, Rooster.” 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” he nodded, and he meant it. “How…long has it been?” 

Like she usually did, Nat knew exactly what he meant, and he was grateful he didn’t have to explain. “For me? Five days. I hear it may be a little longer for you, though. Based on the date you told the doctor, it’s been six months since I was sent to Korea without you.” 

“Five days? So…” 

“I was in the air with you when you went down,” she confirmed. “We’ve been stationed here together for almost three years.” 

“Lucky you,” he murmured as he rolled this new information over in his head. Learning that he was stationed in San Diego, Fightertown of all places, as part of a permanent detachment at Top Gun was a lot for him. The last place he remembered was D.C. But learning he had been with Phoenix here the whole time, for three years, brought another question to his mind. He took a glance around the room, even though he knew they were alone. 

“We finally talked her into going home and taking a shower about an hour and a half ago. One of the guys might con her into taking a nap, too.” 

The coffee cup from the day prior flashed in his mind again. “We?” 

“Mhm,” She hummed, meeting his eyes again. “It’s not just you and me anymore, Bradshaw. We found ourselves a whole, big ass family here. Imagine that, huh?” 

He could always count on Nat to never beat around the bush with him. He never knew how much he appreciated it until now, when he had never felt so out of the loop before. 

“Anyone I know?” 

She barked out a laugh, her eyes shining with something that looked like mischief. “Oh, Rooster. I don’t know that you’d even believe me if I told you.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

She was still laughing when she leant forward, speaking like she was sharing a secret with him. Bradley supposed that in a way, she was. 

“What would you say if I told you Bagman has been here to visit you everyday?” 

Bradley’s face scrunched up in disbelief, “Good joke.” 

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” she said, her voice very much taking on the I told you so tone that she was so good at. She picked her phone up from her lap, scrolling for a few seconds before handing it over to him. There was a picture displayed on the screen of a group of people all donning their traditional green flight suits with an F/A-18 in the background. And there, right in the middle with his signature smug grin, was Jake fucking Seresin, arm wrapped around Bradley’s own shoulders like it was completely normal to do so. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

“Tell me. What’s more shocking? Hangman being your best friend, or finding out you have a wife?” 

She was teasing him, Bradley knew, trying to ease some of the obvious tension in the room. He looked at the picture again, trying to place names with faces. He recognized Payback and Coyote, and Harvard and Yale, but the rest were unfamiliar to him. He studied it for another moment, but no memories came with it. There was a flash of disappointment when he handed her phone back to her. 

“Pretty even, I guess.” 

Despite his words, they both knew it wasn’t really even. He had known Hangman for a decade and the rivalry had never really been more than that. But you, on the other hand…you were something Bradley never anticipated or thought he’d have. He’s still in shock at your existence, still something more than perplexed at how you made him feel even if he knew little more than your name. 

“This is….a lot, Nat. I have a wife. A wife and a whole life I don’t remember.” It was the first time he had said it out loud. His voice cracked, and his eyes stung, but he knew she would never use it against him. “This is crazy.” 

Her face was sympathetic now and she reached back out to hold his hand again. “You’ll get through it, Bradley. I know you will. We’ll all help you. Especially her.” She said it with such certainty that he almost believed her. 

“Can you tell me about her?” he asked her tentatively, and Nat shrugged in response. 

“It’s not my place to tell you your entire love story with her,” she said. Bradley couldn’t hide his disappointment. 

“What I will tell you though,” she continued, and he perked up just the slightest bit, “is that you two are ridiculously happy. And you love one another more than I’ve seen two people be capable of loving one another, and my parents have been married for like 40 years. You, her, and Florence are the perfect little family and we all make fun of you for it on a regular basis but it’s just because we’re jealous.” 

Her words made him feel better, but then he replayed them in his head and felt panic course through his body. The heart monitor beeped a little faster. “Florence? Who is Florence? Nat, do I have a kid?” 

By the way she bursted out laughing, he assumed that no, he did not, or her sense of humor has seriously changed in the last four years that she would find his panic at the thought funny if it were true. 

“No,” she snorted, “not as far as I’m aware. Florence is your cat. You call her Florry, most of the time.” 

His sigh of relief was so deep that it hurt his still very broken ribs, but it was worth it. Waking up to a wife he didn’t remember was one thing. He didn’t know if he could handle forgetting a child on top of that. Hell, he could barely handle all of this as it was. 

“I don’t remember her,” he started, and despite him stating the obvious, Nat was quiet as he worked out his thoughts. “But I feel like I know her. That’s…that’s crazy, right?” 

“I don’t think so,” she shrugged, “You do know her. Better than anyone. Your mind may not remember her, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t.” 

Bradley considered her words for a moment, feeling like he got punched right in his broken ribs. 

“Yeah,” he croaked, “I feel like I do.” 

Phoenix smiled at him sadly, giving him a moment to breathe before she started talking again. She spoke about the last four years of his career. He was stationed in D.C. when he was sent on a six week deployment to Belgium, only to be pulled out of that halfway through for a special mission out of Top Gun. It led to all of those that were called back to form a new unit with this as their homebase. 

“The Dagger Squad?” he questioned with a snort. Natascha hit him gently in his arm, but he winced anyway just to mess with her as they’ve always done. “Ow.” 

“Jokes on you, asshole. You were the first one to say it and it stuck.” 

He groaned. “Of course I was.” 

She talks him through how he was promoted in 2020, nearly a year after being stationed here. Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, she had teased. She had since been promoted as well, but he got it before the rest of them. He felt a certain level of satisfaction in that. They had done additional missions together, deploying for mostly short stints when necessary, and had taught a few Top Gun classes of their own. 

Their crew was close, like family. Some of them had been in the air with him when he went down days prior, while the others remained in the tower. They all searched for him and made sure he was found, unwilling and unable to leave him behind.

They had been here everyday since his accident, rotating out in shifts so that you were never alone, staying until the nurses kicked them out at the end of the night. Bob, one of the ones in the photo that Bradley didn’t recognize, had been down in the cafeteria getting you both food when he had woken up the previous morning. It warmed him, knowing you had people here for you when he had been unconscious. That there was someone making sure you ate and drank water and slept. It was important to him that you weren’t alone. 

Coyote and Hangman had been the ones to drive you home this evening. You had agreed only if Phoenix stayed in case he woke up, so that he wasn’t alone. 

“She thought you would appreciate seeing a face you recognized,” she explained, and the thought that you were that considerate nearly took his breath away. He did appreciate it, more than he thought. The two of them talked for a long time, but Bradley felt himself missing you. There was an ache in his chest that was getting harder to ignore. He found himself looking toward the door and at the clock near the window. The sun had gone down hours ago. When the nurse came in a little while ago to check on him, she had warned Nat that visiting hours were almost over. 

“Everything alright?” Nat asked him, noticing how his gaze was wandering and he was taking longer pauses between responding to her. “Pain okay?” 

There was an ever present ache in his head and his ribs hurt, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. It wasn’t what he was focused on right now. 

You were upset when you had left the room earlier. He still wanted to know who you were talking to and what the doctor had said to you and to just know you. He was starting to get anxious that you weren’t coming back. 

He didn’t like the thought. Your presence soothed something. Anytime you were in the room with him, he felt a little less outside of his own skin. You had said the day before that there was nowhere else you would be than beside him, so he had to believe you wouldn’t leave him alone tonight. 

“Fine,” he muttered, deciding to keep the thoughts to himself, too embarrassed to ask after where you were and when you were coming back. He suspected that Nat saw right through him, but gracefully, she moved on. Even when another thirty minutes had passed and the nurse came in again, informing the two of them that visiting hours were over and she was hugging him goodbye as gently as she could, he didn’t say anything. 

When the door closed behind her, he realized it was the first time he had been alone since he woke up in this bed the morning before. Being on his own had never bothered him before. He had always preferred solitude over anything else, yet this felt strangely empty. Lonely, even. Your face was there at the forefront of his mind. He found himself wondering what you were doing right now. If you had ended up taking that nap at home and if you were okay. His heart ached remembering the broken look in your eyes yesterday when he didn’t know who you were and how distraught you looked with the doctors and nurses earlier. 

He wished he would have had the thought to ask Phoenix for your phone number. He had no idea where his own cell phone was, but the old corded phone in the hospital room could certainly dial out if he needed to reach you. 

He wondered if this same sense of longing had happened so quickly the first time around, too. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he thought about you, but his ears picked up on hurried footsteps making their way to his door. They barely paused before it was thrown open, but grabbed before it could hit off the wall. 

The tightness in his chest eased when he saw you. You paused in the doorway when you saw he was awake and looking at you. 

You looked more frazzled than he had ever seen you, not that that was a lot, but it still unsettled him. 

“Are you-” 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted, making your way into the room after you gently closed the door, almost as to make up for your brash opening of it. The notion almost made him smile. “I went home to take a shower so you could talk to Nat and I ended up falling asleep. I didn’t mean to be gone for this long.” 

“It’s alright,” he assured you, but the frazzled look didn’t go away. Seeing it made him forget all about how distraught he almost was that you weren’t here. “Try and convince me differently all you want, but I bet an actual bed was a lot better than this chair. I’m glad you got some sleep.” 

You gave him a small smile and it made him feel something akin to pride to be the cause of it. 

The smile slipped after a moment. You twisted your ring on your finger, your eyes cautious. You looked small, and he didn’t like that. You cleared your throat before speaking. 

“Your doctor, he uh, he told me I should give you some space. That I might be overwhelming for you? But I didn’t want you to be alone. That’s why I had Nat come, but non-family members can’t stay overnight so…”

A flash of anger hit them then. He had known when you walked back into his hospital room when the doctor had requested your presence outside that he had said something to you. He should have known after he had made the comment about you leaving the room during his consultation that it was something to do with that. 

“He didn’t have a right to say that to you.”

“Bradley-“

“Just because I don’t remember you doesn’t mean you don’t exist,” he said, his voice firm, and he heard the breath you sucked in. 

His tone softened with his next words, “And even if I don’t understand it, I want you here. I mean…as long as you still want to be?”

It didn’t occur to him, before, that maybe this was too much for you. He was your husband who had been in the hospital for a week who woke up not remembering who you were. Maybe you needed some space. But you were nodding your head before he could overthink it too much. 

“I do. I told you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. But I want to do what’s going to be best for you more, okay? I know you don’t know me enough to trust me right now, but I need you to promise me that if it ever is too overwhelming for me to be here, you tell me, okay?” 

That was the thing. He did trust you. It was a feeling deeply rooted in his bones that he could trust you with anything. 

“I promise,” he said instead of telling you what he was really feeling. The emotions were too raw, too jumbled, and he hadn’t made sense of them yet. 

“Alright,” you nodded. You finally made your way from where you had been standing at the end of his hospital bed over to the chair beside it. A pressure lifted off of him when you sat down. 

Yes, he thought, that’s better. 

“How was your visit with Phoenix?” you asked, kicking your tennis shoes off and curling your legs up underneath you. You were in another pair of black leggings and another oversized pullover, UPENN displayed across the front of the dark gray material. Your hair was down again, and he decided he liked how the color looked against your skin as you pushed it out of your eyes. You raised your eyebrows at him and he realized he must have been staring. 

He cleared his throat, fighting off reddening cheeks. Damn. 

“It was good,” he admitted. “She caught me up a lot; told me about being stationed out here and the squad we’re on. She kinda laid out the last four years of my career for me.” 

“Congrats on your promotion,” you joked, and Bradley found himself letting out a surprised chuckle at your humor. 

“Did she say anything specific? About the mission you were called for that got you stationed here?” you asked. Bradley shook his head. 

“She didn’t go into many details. Why?” You let out a long, low breath, and Bradley felt his stomach knot. “Is there something else I should know about it?” 

“Yes,” you nodded, “and it may not be easy for you to hear, but..well, it’s important. Kind of a big part of the last three years of your life.” 

That could mean a lot of things. He tried to stamp down all the worst case scenarios that played around in his head and watched you fiddle with the phone in your hand. You paused, took a breath, and then handed it over to him. Your fingers brushed against his when you did and the spark it sent through him made him take a second to realize what it is he was looking at. His breath caught in his throat when he did. 

Staring back at him was the two of you. You were both smiling, clearly happy, with you tucked into his side like you belonged there. On his other side, he had his arm thrown around the neck of someone he hadn’t seen in years. At least that he could remember. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling. A decades worth of anger and bitterness, he supposed, but the underlying hurt and regret that he always tried to not acknowledge were there too. If he focused hard enough, there was even the smallest flicker of hope. 

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, still staring at the picture. 

“You asked me earlier who Pete was, when you saw the name on my coffee cup,” you reminded him, “not many people call him that, but I do.”

You went on to tell him an abridged version of what sounded like a mission report. Mav was their mission leader and he was his wingman. He got shot down trying to save him, and Bradley disobeyed direct orders to go find him, where he was then shot down trying to save him. It ended fine. They clearly made it out, with some assistance, and had taken a lot of time to work through things. They had completely rebuilt their relationship in the last three years and by the looks of them in this picture, it was hard not to believe you when you said they were stronger than ever. 

“I know how badly he hurt you, and that hearing this might bring up those feelings,” you whispered, your voice sympathetic but not pitying, which was something he appreciated more than he could say, “but the two of you love each other so much. When the time came, you were ready to forgive him. It may be hard to believe, but I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I promise. He’s family. To both of us.”

“He’s been here?” Bradley brought himself to ask, and though he already knew the answer based on the sharpied evidence on a plastic coffee cup, the nod you gave him in response winded him. 

“Everyday,” you confirmed. 

Bradley nods slowly, processing your words. 

“I don’t…know that I’m ready to see him,” he finally said. 

“That’s okay,” you assured him immediately, “you don’t have to right now. But I didn’t want to keep it from you, okay? I don’t want to keep anything from you.” 

He looked away from the phone he had been staring at to meet your eyes, and he knew that you were being sincere. Your eyes were earnest, your expression open, and he was blown away that anyone so beautiful would look at him like that. He let out a breath that was shakier than he would want to admit before he handed your phone back to you. 

“Are you tired?” you asked him, and he shrugged his shoulders. He was, truthfully, but this was the longest conversation the two of you have had; he wasn’t ready for it to end. 

“Tell me something else,” he said instead. 

“What would you like to know?” you asked, clicking your phone off and setting it on the table near his bed. 

“You,” he said instantly, not needing any time to think and not second guessing his honesty, “I want to know you. Us.” 

Your smile was shy, and your cheeks bloomed again, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you nodded. His heart raced in his chest again. “Alright.” 

______

Listening to your voice had quickly become one of his favorite things. The two of you talked for a long time that night, and he grasped onto every detail you gave him. 

You were a few years younger than him. You worked in journalism, covering politics and policy, for the most part completely remote from your home here in San Diego. You grew up in Philadelphia (the Eagles sweatshirt was yours) and were the only child of only children. You weren’t overly close with your parents, but you didn’t seem bothered by it, either. You loved spicy food and sour beers, and things always got a little interesting when you indulged in too much white wine. You had adopted Florence, the adorable brown tabby that you proudly showed him pictures of, when you moved to DC all on your own, and Bradley was apparently the only man the cat tolerated. 

The two of you hosted board game nights or dinner parties on a regular basis, and it had surprisingly only ended in a physical fight between him and Hangman once in the last three years. 

The night nurse came in for her rounds and was surprised to see him still awake, but he refused additional pain medication when she offered it because he wasn’t ready for how they would inevitably put him to sleep. 

He wanted to know everything about you. 

“Tell me how we met?” He requested. 

Your smile was soft, like you liked how the memory made you feel. 

“We were both subjected to the ‘single guest with no date’ table at a wedding,” you revealed. Bradley wracked his brain and remembered a save the date he had sloppily stuck to his fridge in his DC apartment. He asked if that was the one you were referencing and your smile grew as you confirmed it. 

“We met in Philadelphia?” 

“We did,” you laughed, “which is incredibly ironic, considering we were both living in DC at the time.”

It sounded more like fate, but Bradley kept those thoughts to himself for now. 

“Did I ask you to dance?” he asked, almost certain of the answer considering where they ended up years later, but to his surprise, you shook your head. His eyes widened. “You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not,” you swore with a chuckle.

“I was at the same table with you and I didn’t even ask you to dance?”

You threw your head back with a full laugh, and Bradley was sure if they pulled the data from the monitor he was still hooked up to, it would show that his heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

“The rest of the people at the table were admittedly not that nice, and when we realized that we weren’t that bad, we ended up escaping and sitting outside at one of the cocktail hour tables for the majority of the night.”

He wished he could remember what you looked like that night. He wondered what color dress you wore, and if you had your hair up or down, when he was apparently not dancing with you.

“That seems like a crime,” you flushed at the words he mumbled mostly to himself. 

It was difficult for him to comprehend that he had someone in his life like you, but it wasn’t hard at all to see how he fell in love with you as quickly as he must have. You were beautiful outwardly, but he was seeing you were even more so inwardly, as well. You were funny and witty and kept him on his toes, and he was sure he hadn’t even scratched the surface of you yet. 

The more he learned, the more infatuated he became. 

It was nearing two in the morning when your yawning became more frequent amongst your conversation. Watching your face scrunch up every time it happened was adorable, and he wondered if you were as unwilling to go to sleep as he was. The bubble of storytelling you had found yourself in was warm and comforting, but he finally took pity when you started rubbing your eyes under your glasses. The urge to somehow take care of you was brewing inside of him. He wanted to be selfish, but he had kept you up long enough. 

“We should get some sleep,” he murmured. Your hair fell in your eyes when you nodded and he found himself wanting to tuck it behind your ear for you. 

“Are you in any pain?” you asked. You were worrying for him, despite how tired you obviously were. He had been shown more concern in the last 48 hours than he could remember getting in the last decade; his heart ached at the thought. 

“It’s not so bad right now.”

“I can get the nurse.” You were already rising to do so, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to grab your arm. You froze from your position half raised out of the chair. Your wide eyes flickered down to his hand before meeting his again. 

Bradley swallowed deeply, but didn’t let go. He couldn’t stop his thumb from gently rubbing your skin through the thick material of your sweatshirt. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, “promise.”

The breath you let out was shaky, but you nodded. Without disconnecting from him, you pulled your chair just the slightest bit closer to his bed with your other hand, but you didn’t move to sit down yet. Instead, you took a step closer and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against his forehead. Your scent invaded his senses and he suddenly felt dizzy again for a completely different reason. You lingered for a moment and he reveled in it.

“Thank you,” he didn’t quite know what he was thanking you for, but he needed to say it. His voice was thick all of a sudden, feeling overwhelmed with the influx of emotions he was feeling. 

You just smiled at him, and he released the hold he had on your arm so you could settle back into the chair that had become your temporary residence for the last week. 

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

-------

Notes: Things are starting to pick up with these two! The next part is when we really get into the fun stuff, I think :)

Tagging those who asked or interacted. I think I caught everyone, but I'm very new to this so apologies if I missed you! Please let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off this list :)

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[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Take It on the Run Pt. 1 | Tommy Shelby x fem!OC

Summary: Tommy checks out the local cabaret to survey the business potential of the place. You're a dancer and in need of some sort of change.

Warnings: borderline sexism, objectification of sex-workers and female performers, unprotected sex, no aftercare.

🎶 Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat - Del Water Gap

Author's note: I had to go back to Tommy to get out of my writing slump lol. This is very similar to my previous series but less intense, more lighthearted.

Thomas Shelby takes a deep drink from his glass of Irish Whiskey and lets his eyes wander around the room. He’s not as interested in the show occurring onstage as he is in the number of patrons sitting at the tables around the stage. Most are men, many of them are working class. They’re drinking cheap ale and whistling at the dancers on stage. Tommy takes a note in his notebook and finishes his whiskey. His pale skin takes on a tan hue in the darker light of the bar. He has his hat pulled down over his eyes and slips the notebook back into his pocket. When he finally turns his attention back to the stage, he sees the group of scantily dressed dancers and sighs tightly. This is not really his type of scene- he’d much prefer to be alone, somewhere quiet, private, calm. He’d only come tonight to take notes on the number of patrons, a factor in his future business dealings that may or may not include buying the bar and cabaret in which he was currently sitting. Arthur and John had volunteered to do the survey for him- of course they did- but Tommy needed a clear-headed, realistic description of the place. His brothers couldn’t do that for him, they just couldn’t.

His eyes fell on one of the dancers as she steps up to the microphone stand and starts to sing “Over There."

Johnny get your gun- get your gun. 

Johnny get your gun- get your gun.

Take it on the run- on the run. 

Take it on the run- on the run. 

Hear them calling you and me, every son of liberty. 

She was a plain girl and couldn't have been more than 25 at the oldest. The song she was singing was a war song, one he’d heard in France from the Yankees. Hearing the young woman sing it forced a peculiar feeling in his chest to rise into his throat. He swallowed tightly and flagged the waiter for another drink. He turned back to watch the young woman, his face betraying no thoughts or feelings. He was leaning forward in his chair, his hand propped on his knee. He checked his pocket watch and paid the waiter for his drink.

…

From the stage, you look out at the mass of patrons hooting from their seats. This is not really what you imagined when you pictured your future as a little girl. You’d wanted to perform, and frankly, you were, just not for the right audience. You’d just turned twenty-two and felt decades older as you pranced around in your flapper dress with the low cut v-neck. You may have been the headliner, as you usually were at the cabaret, but it was certainly nothing special. Your name was up in lights but did it count when the cabaret was on a dirty side-street in Birmingham? Obviously, you have a problem with self-deprecation. You’ll have to work on that- note to self. 

But as you sing, the steaming spotlights blind you from everything except for one patron sitting near the center of the audience. You can only make out a shape, like a black silhouette, but you can tell it's a man. When the spotlight moves, your eyes adjust and faces become clear again. Your eyes return back to the man and this time you can see his cap pulled down over his eyes and the way he lies his forearms on the table as he holds his cigarette. When the routine ends, you bow, your hand covering your cleavage as you bend over. When you look up again, the man is staring at you, clapping slowly like he’s from a different point in time and space entirely. You regard him curiously as you straighten up. Cheers and whistles berate you as you hurry offstage.    

It doesn’t take long for your boss to find you backstage. 

“Diana,” he starts, brushing off a thin layer of sweat from his balding forehead, “there’s a patron that wants to meet you… he's one of the Peaky Blinders.” 

You turn, your brows furrow skeptically. “Peaky Blinders? What’s that?” 

“You-you don’t know? Eh well they’re basically the most powerful gang in Birmingham, Diana. They’re the ones that run the illegal gambling rings and whiskey dealings.” 

“And someone from the Peaky Blinders wants to meet me?” You clarify, a note of distaste and disbelief in your tone. 

Your boss nods and shrugs hesitantly, “Seems like it. I mean I can tell him that you’re not feeling well, I’ll say whatever you want, but…” he trails off. You stare at him for a moment, your morbid curiosity piqued. 

“Well… I guess I’ll meet him. Tell him that I’ll come out once everyone leaves. Can he wait?” 

Your boss nods and turns away to relay the message. He returns after a few minutes and nods, confirming that the man will wait. Exhaling, you pinch the bridge of your nose and try to prepare yourself for whatever the man may want- god forbid. To be completely honest, you’re tired. You’re dead tired. Work at the cabaret is exhausting and emotionally taxing. The spotlights may hide the eye bags and shaky muscles but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. You adjust your makeup to hide the purple circles beneath your eyes before you force yourself to stand and greet the strange visitor.

…

Tommy is lighting another cigarette when he sees the velvet curtain shift and a person steps out from behind it. Looking over the end of his cigarette, he sees you step down from the stage and approach him slowly, your expression neutral. Tommy sits silently as he watches you approach his table, the last patron left in the establishment after closing. You stop on the opposite side of the table, your eyes unable to rest on his face for longer than a few seconds. 

“My boss told me that you wanted to meet me…” you say as your hands rest on the edge of the seat. Tommy looks up at you from his seat, his face finally fully visible beneath the shadow of his Peaky cap. 

“Yes, I did want to meet you,” Tommy responds coolly, his eyes on yours. 

You take a deep breath, unsure what to say next. “You’re a Peaky Blinder?” 

Tommy smiles slightly and tilts his head to the side in a curious manner as he responds, “I am. You’ve never heard of us?” 

“No, I try not to get involved in business outside of the cabaret,” you respond, trying to gauge what kind of person he is and whether or not he’s trustworthy. Tommy raises a dark eyebrow and adjusts himself in his seat, a deep sigh escaping his puffy lips. 

“That’s smart. Most people would be better off keeping their heads down… but sometimes business has a way of finding you, whether you’re looking for it or not. Just like trouble." Tommy’s eyes return to yours as he says the last line.  

“So this is a business proposition?” You ask, gesturing between the two of you. 

Tommy pauses for a moment and takes a sip of his whiskey. His eyes leave yours as he considers your question. Finally, his chlorine-blue eyes meet yours, a new expression visible beneath his eyelashes. 

“In a way, you could say that. I’m… interested in you,” Tommy explains slowly. 

“And I suppose I should be flattered,” you add, your eyes narrowing down at Tommy. 

Tommy chuckles and shakes his head before he finally responds. 

“Most women would consider it a compliment to be told that they’ve caught the attention of a Peaky Blinder.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not like most women,” you shake your head softly. 

Tommy nods slowly, his eyes leaving yours as he thinks. “Hmm, that much is true but you wouldn’t be my type if you were ‘most women’.” 

You try not to roll your eyes at his response and smile down at yourself, unable to take him seriously.  

“Well the problem is that I’d much rather be like most women,” you open your small pocketbook to find a cigarette. “My line of work isn’t exactly ideal.” 

Tommy raises his eyebrow and drums his fingertips against the sticky tabletop. He watches you rummage around in your handbook and pulls out his gold embossed cigarette case. He holds the case open for you, offering you one of his own cigarettes. You hesitate before taking a cigarette, meeting his eyes slowly again. He takes a drag of his cigarette and watches as you find your lighter and strike a flame. 

“A woman as talented and captivating as you can have whatever she wants. Why settle for being like most women?” Tommy’s brows furrow as he taps his cigarette over the ashtray by his elbow. 

“The safety… the normalcy,” you light your cigarette and place it between your lips. “I’m a dancer, most men see me as one step up from a common whore.” 

His eyes follow the way you place your cigarette between your pretty pink lips and he nods finally, taking a deep breath. 

“Safety and normalcy are vastly overrated. And for the record I can think of several steps between a cabaret dancer and a common whore.” 

You give him an appreciative smile and pull out your chair to sit down opposite him at the table. You tap your cigarette over the ashtray by his elbow, your bare forearm nearly brushing his coat sleeve. He looks down, following your arm with his eyes as he takes another drag. 

“Well,” you start as you exhale a thin stream of smoke, “are you going to tell me your name?” There’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. 

Tommy’s eyes almost darken as he watches you bring the cigarette back to your lips. He allows himself to smile softly, glancing away and then back at you. 

“Thomas Shelby. People call me Tommy… or Mr. Shelby.” 

“Well, Mr. Shelby, what can I do for you?” You bring the conversation back to its original purpose, still morbidly curious why he wanted to meet you. 

“I wanted to get to know you better… I’m not usually interested in women but you grabbed my attention.” 

“Was it the low cut dress?” You respond nonchalantly, your free hand brushing over the deep V-neck of your dress. 

Tommy laughs and rubs his thumb over his lips, shaking his head. “It certainly didn’t hurt.” 

You shrug and cross your legs beneath the table, “at least you’re an honest criminal…” 

Tommy takes a sip of his whiskey and smirks, laughing again. “I find it's best to be upfront about who I am… no point in pretending to be a good man when I'm not.” 

You regard him carefully, your foot jostling nervously beneath the table. “You don’t consider yourself a good man?” 

Tommy’s expression darkens and his lips pull back tightly. He downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass before pouring another one. He leans back in his chair, thinking of a response. 

“I think ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are relative terms. I think I’m a man with ambition and the will to achieve my goals. But some of those goals may not be what most people consider… ‘good.’” 

“Cheers to that,” you raise your cigarette and Tommy chuckles, raising his glass of whiskey back. 

“And what about you? Do you consider yourself a good person?” Tommy asks after taking a sip of his drink. 

“I don’t think it matters anymore,” you shrug and take a drag of your cigarette.

Tommy clears his throat and sets his glass down. “Why not?” 

“To most of the men here, I’m just a dancer. And after years of feeling less than human, I've lost any sense of introspection.” 

Tommy regards you closely, his eyes focused but look relaxed.

“And yet, you don’t act as if you feel less than. I can’t imagine you’re as shallow as most of the men in this room think you are.” 

You blow out a skinny cloud of smoke and it wavers around Tommy’s face like a gray serpent. “Funny,” you smile softly, “I didn’t peg you as an optimist.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head slowly, “I’m not much of an optimist. I’m more of a realist. And any man with a brain should know there’s more to you lot than pretty faces and a pair of legs.” 

You give a snort of laughter and stub out your cigarette. You don’t know what to say at first so you twist your mouth to the side, thinking. 

“Thank you.”

He gives you a short nod, “You get used to men not seeing you as the person you are. I won’t claim to know you, but I know you’re not the type of woman who’s content being just an object for the men in this room to ogle at.” 

 You nod, appreciating his perspective, especially coming from a man. “It pays the bills,” you shrug. 

There’s something about that moment between you. The cabaret is empty besides the two of you and everything is still and quiet. You suddenly feel so close like the space around you has shrunk. Though a table separates your two bodies, Tommy’s eyes push in with the cold severity of a cement wall. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Tommy finally breaks the silence, his voice is low and straightforward. 

You stare at Tommy for a moment, your breath caught in your throat. Finally, you shake your head. 

“No.” 

He nods, his eyes lingering on your face. The way your hair is shorter than your shoulders, the faint hint of rouge left on your lips, the way your dress clings to your body… it makes his skin grow hot. 

“Do you want one?” He asks, his voice low. 

Your heart starts to hammer against your chest and you take a sudden breath. Your instincts are suddenly silent like the system has been overrun. 

“I don’t know…” you whisper. 

He gazes back at you intently, watching your reactions to his question. The way your breath hitches slightly, the rise and fall of your chest, your lips parting ever so slightly.

“Do you want me to be more plain with my question?” He asks quietly, gently, like he’s addressing a child. 

You regard him curiously and not knowing what to say, you say nothing. Tommy doesn’t even wait for an answer before he speaks. He leans forward, his chest pressing into the edge of the table. His eyes are locked on yours.

“I want you.” 

“That,” you start shakily, “isn’t a question.” 

Tommy takes in the way your cheekbones glow with color and how your neck flushes. He nods and meets your eyes again, serious. 

“No, it isn’t.” 

The way he says it sounds so effortless, so normal. You take a breath and shake your head, forcing some sense back into the situation.

“You don’t even know my name,” you argue. 

Tommy looks down, smiling softly. When he looks back up, he’s still smiling. 

“I asked your boss.” Tommy stands and trails his finger around the rim of his glass. One of his hands stays in his pocket as he clears his throat. “Your name is Diana.” 

“So you do know my name,” you look up at Tommy. Your heart seems to forget its original rhythm and hammers at an uncomfortable pace.

“Yes, I know your name, Diana.” He repeats your name and the way he says it sounds so sexy. He’s leaning across the table now, his arms crossed against his chest. 

“So you asked me to meet you just to tell me that you want to fuck me?” You clarify, your eyes narrowing. He’s not surprised by your bluntness. He’s heard much worse when talking to other gang members and criminals. He shrugs and clears his throat softly. 

“That was my initial intention.”

“And what is it now?” 

Tommy looks at you for a long moment, his eyes moving slowly across your face, taking you in. Your gaze is strong, but he can sense that beneath it there’s a hint of uncertainty. He lowers his voice as he answers.

“Now… I want more.” 

“And what makes you think I’ll give you what you want?” You mutter up at him. 

He’s acutely aware of how close your lips are now to his. It’d be so easy to reach out and pull you to him, over the table. He can almost hear your heart hammering in your chest and he can smell your perfume, your sweat. His eyes wander over your face, his voice low as he answers.

“Because you’re not saying no.” 

“I could say ‘no’ right now.” You threaten, whispering now. 

He places his palms on the table and leans down. He hears the lack of conviction in your voice. He's close enough now that he can feel the heat coming off your body, see the way your breathing is quickening, and his own body is reacting to your nearness.

“Then do it. Go on, say no.”  

“And what if I do…” Your voice drops off at the end like an open ended question. Tommy lets his gaze drop to your mouth briefly, seeing the way your lips fall open at the end of your sentence. His heart might be beating slightly faster but he’s completely relaxed as he leans even closer. 

“You won’t,” he says quietly but with calm conviction, his breath tickling your nose. 

“Are you always this arrogant?” You ask, too aware of the closeness of his lips. You can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, throbbing in time with your pulse. Tommy sees the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you blink, his voice just as soft.

“Only when I know I’m right.” He pulls back and steps around the table towards you.

“And are you very frequently right?” You press, trying to ignore the growing tension between your bodies. His cheekbones look deeper in the offcast shadow from the bar’s electric lanterns. 

He smiles slightly at you, amused. He doesn’t answer you right away, just stares down at your lips. Just before he closes the distance between your mouths, he murmurs, “almost always.” 

You feel him kiss you. The movement is fluid and deep like he’s breathing you in like a cigarette. He pulls you up from your chair and holds the place above your ribs with a gentle yet assertive touch. Your hands start on his elbows and slide up to his shoulders. The fabric of his shoulders bunch up as he holds you. When you kiss him back he immediately takes control, parting your lips with his tongue. Your lips are soft and hot against his and your breath is ragged against his face. 

He tilts your head back with one of his hands by cupping the back of your neck beneath your bob. You’re leaning back against the table when you push his hat off his head and slide your hand into his hair. Tommy groans softly against your lips and cups your jaw in his hand. 

“Can I fuck you?” He breaks the kiss you ask against your lips. His voice is gravelly and deep, like what you’d imagine coals sound like when they’re shifted over a fire. You gasp against his lips, feeling a shock through your throbbing cunt at his words. You normally don’t do this. But… 

“Yes,” you whisper and nod against his face, your noses crushed against each other. He takes a breath before slowly starting to kiss you again. 

“Here?” You ask breathlessly, looking around at the empty cabaret.

“It’s as good a place as any…” he responds calmly and kisses you again, his other hand cupping the other side of your face. You smile and laugh softly against his lips, nodding. 

“I only ask one thing,” you break the kiss again as he presses his body against yours. 

“What is it?” His eyes are closed as he bites your bottom lip and releases it. 

“You won’t pay me afterwards. I’m not a whore. I’m not doing this for any favors.” 

Tommy chuckles and moves his hands to your waist, picking you up and dropping you down on the table behind you. 

“As you wish.”

He immediately slots himself between your knees and rolls up the skirt of your short flapper dress as he starts to kiss you again. You push off his jacket over his arms and pull him closer by the neck of his vest. 

Once his jacket is off, he pushes against you again and reaches under your skirt to unclip your garters. The bands snap against your thighs and he groans quietly against your lips at the noise of them hitting your bare skin. He guides your back down to the table, kissing you deeply as he pulls down your silk underwear. 

You’re panting as you feel Tommy slowly pull down your underwear down your thighs. He stops kissing you to watch your reaction as your underwear slips over your knees. You both exhale simultaneously as your underwear slips down to your ankles and finally comes off. His hands then slide up your thighs, his eyes still on yours. In one quick motion, he spreads your legs and presses his hips against yours. You gasp when you feel his large erection through his trousers 

“You’ll be alright,” he mutters before he crushes his lips against yours, harder than before. He undoes the button at his crotch and opens his boxers with one hand with expert ease. You pull him closer, gasping when he enters you a bit too forcibly for his size. 

“There you go,” he whispers, breaking the kiss to exhale against you. Your stomach tenses in pain and you whimper tightly. Tommy slows his thrusts down only slightly and puts his hand beneath your head to support it. His other hand holds your thigh up to rest at his hip. You moan and grip the fabric of his dress shirt on his shoulders as it starts to feel better. Tommy moves his mouth down to nip at the skin beneath your jaw. His thrusts get progressively stronger, leaving you gasping against his ear. 

Tommy moves his hands down to your hips and holds them in place as he moves, lifting his chest from yours. His jaw is clenched as he puts space between you. You cover your mouth with your hand as you start to cry out in pleasure. Tommy chuckles down at you, his grunts and groans are dark and low. He says nothing as he goes deeper, his hands pulling your hips closer to the edge of the table. 

You feel your pelvic muscles contract as a wave of pleasure comes over you. Your heart’s racing and you can feel sweat pool between your breasts. Tommy leans down again as he feels you get closer and nips down your neck again, his teeth barely scraping over your skin. He kisses your collarbone and pants against the shelf of it. 

“That’s it, girl,” Tommy groans against you, his fingers digging into your upper thigh. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you gasp against his scalp, feeling a climactic surge of energy through your body.

“It’s alright, girl. You’re alright,” he nods reassuringly. His words pull an internal trigger in your body and you orgasm. In your orgasm, you grab the back of his neck. Feeling your grip, Tommy raises his head to look into your eyes and watch you cum. Your mouth falls open in a way that makes him shiver in pleasure. His hips slow as you ride your climax and he starts to feel his. He thrusts deeply into you, his hips rutting against you with reserved power. 

“Open your eyes,” he mutters and presses his thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it down to expose your row of bottom teeth. Your eyes flutter open and you see him looking at you. His gaze is nearly as penetrating as his cock.

Without giving you further instructions, he looks down into your eyes, his mouth open in a sigh. With a few more deep, slow thrusts, he finishes. He groans softly and lowers his face to yours but doesn’t kiss you. After a second of sharing breath, he pulls back and pulls out. He fixes himself back into his clothes and shrugs his jacket on once again. You sit up slowly, your thighs and abdomen shaking. 

Tommy bends over and takes his cap from the floor and secures it onto his head. He hands you your underwear and looks away respectfully as you pull your underwear back on and clip your garters back to your garter belt. 

“Alright?” Tommy nods at you as he looks over his shoulder, ensuring that the cabaret is still empty. 

“Jesus Christ, Mr. Shelby,” you fix your hair quickly and push the skirt of your dress back down. “Ever a businessman, aren’t you?” 

Tommy chuckles and offers his hand to help you down from the table. His eyes study your face down to your body. 

“I try to stay efficient…” he mutters with a small smirk. 

“Of course,” you smile softly back and smooth down your dress. Tommy chuckles again and shakes his head, enjoying your attitude. He leans in close to your ear.

“Thank you for your company this evening,” he whispers and pulls back to see your face. You blush and nod once. 

“My pleasure, anything for a Peaky Blinder.” 

“You tease me,” Tommy drops your hand with a chuckle and fixes his suit lapels.

“Yes,” you nod and take a few steps back towards the stairs of the stage. Tommy turns in the opposite way at first and then turns, slightly surprised to see you turn back to the stage. 

“Live here, do you?” He asks, half joking. You look between him and the stage and shrug nonchalantly.

“It’s affordable.” 

“Right.” He nods and takes a cigarette from his cigarette case. You watch him in silence as he switches the case for a lighter and lights the end of the cigarette. 

“Will you be back to watch my shows?” You ask, and it surprises you that you almost hope that he says yes. You want him to treat you suddenly like all of the other men in the cabaret, to adore you. Tommy clicks the lighter closed and slips it back into his pocket. His brows are furrowed when he finally looks back to you. 

“It’s not really my… thing,” Tommy gestures loosely with his cigarette. You nod in understanding and turn your back to him as you climb the stairs up to the stage. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Shelby,” you call over your shoulder. Tommy grins around his cigarette as he watches you cross the stage. 

“Goodnight, Diana,” he calls back and after a few moments of watching you retreat backstage, he exits the cabaret. On the street outside of the cabaret, Tommy takes a drag of his cigarette and looks back at the small building. Your name is spelled out on a hand painted sign. He runs his hand over his mouth and exhales a slow line of smoke. He contemplates going back inside, finding the girl, finding you. For what reason? He can’t say. 

The lights start to go out inside the cabaret and Tommy watches them as he smokes his cigarette down to a stump.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

run rabbit, run [g.t]

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

✝︎ w.c. 3.7k words ✝︎ a/n. I wanted to write a few spooky oneshots for kinktober, focusing on kinks I've never written before, and this is (hopefully 🤞) the first of three. ✝︎ tags/warnings. canon x oc pairing, fem!oc, predator/prey, hair pulling, spitting degradation, spanking, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, outdoor sex, creampie, slight gunplay (if you squint) ✝︎ credit. barbed wire divider {x}

After a disappointing corn maze, Gator proposes a more thrilling game and Win is all too willing to play.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Oh my God, that was so lame,” Win exclaimed, though she wore a grin on her face as she and Gator stepped out of the corn maze, the sound of screams and laughter punctuating the night air behind them.

“You can’t tell me you weren’t scared,” Gator scoffed, slinging an arm around her shoulders when he noticed her shiver and pull her thin jacket closer.  “You screamed your head off and hid behind me every time someone in a mask jumped out at us,” he pointed out, scowling as some teenagers pushed past, nearly running into him.

Win jerked her chin defiantly and shot him a sharp look.  “I’m not saying I wasn’t scared,” she huffed, “but there’s a difference between a cheap scare, like a jump scare and true terror,” she insisted, leading Gator toward the exit, the scent of popcorn and sweet roasted pecans from the food carts nearby surrounding them.

“You’re the only person I know that actually likes being scared,” Gator snorted, stopping to get Win a caramel apple for the road.

“It’s not that weird,” she huffed, climbing into the passenger seat of his truck.  “As long as you’re not in any real danger, it can be pretty exciting.”

“Guess that makes sense,” Gator mused, twisting his key in the ignition.  “I’ve heard fear can be an aphrodisiac too,” he added, glancing over at her pointedly.

“Oh, you’ve heard that, have you?” Win laughed, freeing her treat from it’s plastic wrapping and giving it a taste.

Gator tilted his head, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug, though a smirk played at the corner of his mouth.  

“It’s not like I didn’t have fun though,” Win added, laying her arm across the console to thread her fingers between Gator’s, smiling softly when he gave her hand a squeeze.  “I just wished it would’ve had more… ambience.”

Gator nodded to himself as an idea took root.

“What’re we doing here?” Win asked, sitting up straighter in her seat as Gator turned onto the lane to the ranch.

“Just gotta grab a couple things from the house real quick,” Gator answered cryptically, pulling up in front of the dark farmhouse.  “Be right back,” he assured her as he threw the truck in park and jumped out, hurrying up to the porch and disappearing inside.

A minute later, the front window on the second floor lit up and Win could see Gator’s shadow moving about his room.  It only took him a few more minutes before the light switched off and he was back out the door and striding toward the truck, carrying something in his hand.  It wasn’t until he yanked the door open that Win realized what it was.

“Is that a paintball gun?” she asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice, noting that he’d only grabbed one.

“Yep.”  Gator answered simply, stowing the gun in the backseat and tossing Win his heavy camo hoodie.  “Put that on,” he instructed, climbing back behind the wheel and turning the truck around. "You're gunna need it."

“Gator, what are we doing?” Win huffed, though she shrugged off her jacket to pull the sweatshirt over her head.  Gator’s scent still clung to it and she took a moment to bury her nose in the soft fabric, breathing him in.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he replied, wearing a smug grin.

He didn’t drive far, their destination only a few miles from the ranch, and Gator pulled off onto a narrow dirt path nestled between a patch of woods and a corn field, parking just out of sight of the road.

“Now are you gunna tell me what we’re doing?” Win asked, peering out the window as Gator cut the engine, excitement prickling her insides.

“Well, you said you wanted to be scared,” he answered, turning to look at her, his lips curving impishly.

“I did say that,” Win mused, wetting her lips, anticipation bubbling in her stomach.

“I thought we could play a little game,” Gator continued, arching an amused brow at her from under the brim of his cap before pushing his door open and grabbing the paintball gun.

“And what sort of game would that be?” Win asked, hurrying to follow him, thankful for his hoodie as she left the warmth of the truck cab, though the trees helped to cut the wind some.

Gator checked something on his gun before answering, stepping into Win’s space to smirk down at her.  

“I’ll be the predator... and you’ll be the prey,” he drawled, watching her through hooded eyes.  “I’ll even give you a two minute head start.”

Win swallowed, her eyes darting to the gun in his hand.  “You’re not gunna actually shoot me with that, are you?”

Gator shrugged.  “Not if you’re quick enough.”

The condescension in his voice made her squirm, annoyed at how much it turned her on.

“And what exactly are you gunna do when you catch me?” she asked, stepping closer, a challenge flashing in her stormy eyes.

Gator’s lips twitched, pleased at her choice of words.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” he drawled, the promise in his heavy lidded gaze sending heat pooling low in Win’s stomach.

“Ready for your head start?”

“You better give me the full two minutes,” she warned, and Gator started a timer on his watch.

“You better get going,” he exclaimed, and Win took off, sprinting for the treeline, glad for the cloudless sky and the nearly full moon hanging overhead.

Even after passing under the cover of the foliage, the night was still light enough that she could easily see the path ahead, though it occurred to her that that would only make it easier for Gator to see her as well.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, stopping to scan her surroundings–she needed to find some place to hide, and quick.

She could feel the seconds slipping away and though she knew it was only a glorified game of hide and seek and it was only Gator hunting her, her heart fluttered like a rabbit’s, hammering against the inside of her ribcage while her pulse thundered in her ears, the adrenaline flooding her making her feel alive.

Spotting a large bush growing next to a cluster of trees a few yards away, Win hurried toward it, dropping to her knees to crawl under its branches just as she heard Gator’s voice in the distance.

“Your two minutes are up, Winnie!  I’m comin’ for ya.”

The crunch of Gator’s boots grew louder as he approached and Win shrank back further into the bushes, holding her breath and hoping the shadows were deep enough to obscure her.  Somewhere overhead an owl cried and Gator stopped mere feet from her hiding place, his head swiveling, searching, and part of Win itched to jump from the brush and take him by surprise, turning the tables just to prove she could—but then she’d lose the satisfaction of being caught.  

And for once, she wanted to be caught.

But that didn’t mean she wanted to make it easy for him.

After what felt like an eternity, Gator finally moved on, holding his gun at the ready.  Once he was out of sight, Win slipped out from her cover, hesitating long enough to crane her head the way he’d gone before sneaking off in the opposite direction, picking her way carefully through the underbrush.

Confident she’d lost him, she let out the breath she’d been holding and began moving faster, less carefully, thinking to double back toward the truck when a loud snap–almost deafening in the silence–echoed through the woods and she froze, her blood running cold as she looked down at the broken stick beneath her foot.

“Fuck,” she grimaced, straining to listen for Gator’s footsteps over the rush of blood in her ears, foolishly hoping he’d been far enough out of earshot to have heard her blunder.

Two sharp cracks ripped through the silence, exploding bright green against the tree next to her and a startled cry burst from her lungs, jolting her into motion.  Without a second thought, she took off sprinting, realizing too late that she was being forced out of the woods and toward the cornfield.  If she turned to run along the drive between the two, his next shot surely wouldn’t miss–for all of Gator’s shortcomings, marksmanship wasn't one of them.

Breaking out of the treeline, Win leapt headlong into the corn rows as she heard Gator fire off another couple rounds.  Though the dry corn was harder to move stealthily through, it was better than no cover at all.

Angling her body to maneuver through the narrow rows, the brittle corn leaves whipped against her face, forcing her to slow and it wasn’t long before Gator could be heard behind her.

“Where are ya, Winnie?” he called, whistling for her like a dog, and she could practically hear the smug smirk playing at his lips.  “It’s no use tryin’ to hide.  You know I’m gunna find you.”

Win stopped, gasping for breath, and turned to listen for the rustle of corn as Gator stalked her, trying to get an idea of how close he was, which direction he was coming from.

“C’mon Win, we both know how much you want me to catch you.  For such a feisty bitch, you sure like it when I have you helpless.  Bet it has you drippin’ just thinkin’ about it,” he drawled, using the barrel of his gun to part the stalks as he prowled the rows, searching for her.

A harsh gasp left her lips as she caught a flash of movement to her right and Win quickly clapped a hand over her mouth and dropped, crouching low, hoping Gator would be more focused on what was ahead of him rather than scanning the ground.

“When I catch you, I’m gunna fuck you like the little whore you are, right out in the middle of the woods–”

A soft groan caught in Win’s throat at the thought, desire pulsing through her, but as much as she wanted it, she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.  After all, the chase, the mounting tension, only made it that much hotter.

Keeping an eye on the spot she’d seen movement, Win began to creep forward slowly, circling Gator’s position as she fought to avoid rustling the stalks too much, hoping his own movement would mask any sounds she made. 

“How long you plan on keeping this up for?” Gator called, stopping once more to scan the field, tilting his head to listen.

Win grimaced, her jaw clenching as her shoulder brushed against a stalk, the leaves rustling loudly in the sudden silence and Gator’s head snapped toward her.

“Gotcha.”

Giving up on stealth, Win scrambled in the dirt for purchase, pushing herself up to make a break for it, Gator right on her heels.

She could hear his breath loud in her ears, or was it her own?

For one brief moment the moon shone brightly overhead before she was back in the woods, the moonlight filtering down in patches amid the shadows.  Not daring to look back over her shoulder, she weaved through the trees, her heart pounding hard in her chest.  For a moment she thought she might outrun Gator, not quite as fast as he once was back before his football accident, until she tripped.

Catching a large root just right with the toe of her boot, time seemed to slow as she went sprawling, arms windmilling uselessly before landing hard on the ground with a grunt.

“Shit–” she hissed, hastily pushing herself to her feet, but it was too late.  

“Freeze.”

Something pressed into Win’s back between her shoulder blades and she froze, lifting her hands in surrender.

“Good girl,” Gator murmured behind her, his breath fanning across the back of her neck, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Gator slowly circled her, a smirk tugging at lips.

“You ready to give up?  You put up a pretty good fight, but let’s face it, I’ve got you cornered, sweetheart,” he drawled, peering down his nose at her, radiating smug satisfaction as he trailed the muzzle of his gun between Win’s legs, his lips twitching as she squirmed.

There was a look in his eyes that thrilled her, that made her burn for him—her cunt aching for him to fill it.

“You gunna answer me?” he prompted and Win swallowed, slowly nodding.

“I give up.  You win,” she said, hanging her head so Gator couldn’t see the flash of defiance in her eyes.

As soon as he stepped closer, letting his guard down,—thinking he’d won—she struck, knocking the paintball gun from his hands and they struggled, tumbling to the ground.

Wrestling frantically, kicking at the dirt and leaves, the two rolled, grunting and panting, until Gator came out on top, his cap knocked from his head and his slicked back hair falling in his eyes as he pinned her by the wrists.

“Shit—“ he gasped, catching his breath as he held her still, hovering over her.  “Shoulda known you wouldn’t go down that easy,” he breathed, a pleased grin twisting his lips, turning pink from the cold.

“That’s my firecracker,” he chuckled, his heavy lidded eyes roaming her face.  “It’s so much hotter when you put up a fight,” he drawled, leaning in to kiss her deeply, his tongue demanding against hers and Win groaned as his cock throbbed against her hip, trapped beneath his cargo pants.

Gator echoed her moan as their tongues clashed and Win bit down hard on his lip, his moan turning to a hiss of pain.

“Ow, Jesus—“ he hissed, releasing one of her wrists to gingerly touch his lip, a trace of blood staining his fingertips, though a ghost of a smile curved his lips at her display of defiance.

“Now you’ve really done it,” he drawled, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

Win’s breath hitched as Gator sat up, his fingers fumbling at the button of her jeans, hastily working them down her hips along with her thin panties.  As soon as the chill air hit her bare skin, she gasped, but Gator only grinned, his gaze dropping to her exposed sex.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he groaned, admiring the way her folds glistened wetly in the moonlight, dragging two fingers between them to gather her juices before lifting his hand to show her, pulling his fingers apart to watch her slick stretch between them in silvery strands.

“You’re fuckin’ drippin’, Winnie,” he drawled, pressing his fingers to her lips till she opened her mouth to suck them clean, moaning low in her throat at the taste.  “Looks like you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

Win could only nod in response, swirling her tongue around his digits.  Gator’s head fell back with a groan as he palmed himself with his free hand – his cock beginning to strain painfully against the stiff fabric of his pants.

“Shit, you’re like a bitch in heat,” he muttered, swallowing thickly, and Win pulled his fingers from her mouth with a soft pop.

“Jesus Gator, you gunna fuck me or just talk about it?” Win huffed, her eyes flashing impishly.  “You’re supposed to be the predator, right?  Devour me,” she breathed, pushing up to her elbows as she held his lust drenched gaze.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathed, rocking back on his heels to roll her onto her belly and hoist her onto all fours before fumbling his cock free, hissing at the cold.  Win gasped as Gator pressed between her shoulder blades, forcing her face down against the ground, ass still in the air, and her cunt throbbed at how easily he manhandled her.

“Be a good girl for me and stay still,” Gator grunted, grabbing the fat of her ass to part her cheeks, pursing his lips and spitting against her puckered hole.  Win gave a jerk, half pushing up, Gator’s name on her lips like a warning until her gave her ass a sharp swat, the palm of his hand stinging from the impact and Win gave another jolt, gasping in surprise.

“What’d I say about staying still?” he exclaimed, grabbing her hips to pull her back into position.  “I ain’t goin’ in that hole, so calm down,” he added in assurance.

“You better fuckin’ not,” Win muttered, but lowered her head obediently.

Gator grinned, caressing the red welt he’d left on her ass cheek before pausing to spit again, biting his lip as he watched his saliva roll between her folds to mix with the sticky arousal that was already practically dripping down her thighs.

Gripping his cock at the base, he guided the tip to her entrance, groaning as he pressed into her tight wet heat, watching raptly as she sucked him in, her greedy little cunt stretching around him like it was meant to take his cock.

Win echoed Gator’s moan, pressing her forehead to the ground as she arched back against him impatiently, urging him deeper, feeling every vein and ridge as she squeezed around him.

“Oh fuck– eager little rabbit, huh?” Gator panted, thrusting sharply the rest of the way, forcing a breathy gasp from Win’s lips as he bottomed out.  “C’mon, I know you can take me better than that,” he taunted, condescension dripping from his words as he thrust sharply into her again, tightening his grasp on her hips to hold her steady as he began to pound into her, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.

With each swift rut, Win’s body bounced forward with the impact, the lewd rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the air, competing only with their heavy breaths and moans.

Digging her fingers into the earth, her cheek pressed to the cold ground, Win had never felt so deliciously helpless, so like an animal ensnared by its captor, unable to fight back even had she wanted to.  With each thrust, each jolt of her body, Gator’s cock dragged against that sensitive spot inside her that made her head swim, and she moaned, his name tumbling from her lips deliriously, uncaring about the noise in their seclusion.  She barely even felt the sting of the cold against her exposed flesh.  

“Fuck, Win—“ Gator groaned, almost a whine, his pleasure swiftly building, compressing the spring in his gut til he was afraid it might snap.  Tangling his hand in a fistful of her hair, he gave a sharp tug, forcing her head up as he leaned over her, his lips close to her ear.  

“Who owns this pussy?” he hissed, his breath hot against the curve of her jaw.

“You do—!“ Win gasped, the pain in her scalp mixing with the pleasure that coursed through her, hovering just out of reach.

“Damn straight,” Gator grunted, gritting his teeth, his movements growing jerky, desperate.  “You gunna be good and cum for me?” he asked, the strain in his voice evident.

Win tried to nod before remembering his grasp on her hair and she winced.  “Fuck, yes, please—“ she begged, wetting her lips, and it was all Gator needed to hear.

Desperate to push her over the edge, he released her hair to awkwardly wrap his arm around her, slipping his hand between her legs to search for her clit as he rut into her frantically, rubbing sloppy circles against her bundle of nerves.  The effect was nearly instantaneous, the added stimulation pushing her off the ledge and into the deep end, and Win came with a keening cry, her body tensing violently.  

“Shit, Win, fuckfuckfuckkkk—!” Gator echoed, falling headlong with her into the abyss, his hips stuttering as Win clenched impossibly tighter around him, milking him dry with each deep thrust until he finally stilled, cock still twitching as her walls pulsed and fluttered around him with the after shocks of her climax.

Panting heavily, he dropped his head to her shoulder with a ragged breath, his arm around her the only thing holding her up.  Despite the cold, sweat beaded on Gator’s forehead, his shirt sticking to him beneath his coat.

Win, however, trembled beneath him and he hastily pulled out of her, watching his spend seep from her spent hole for a moment before pushing it back between her folds with his fingers and pulling her panties back up.

“Can’t lose any of that, huh?” she chuckled weakly, pulling her jeans back up while Gator hastily tucked himself back into his cargo pants, still wet with their combined fluids. "Love the thought of you filled with me," he murmured. 

Once dressed, the two of them collapsed to the ground together, Win fitting against Gator’s side as if she was molded just for him, seeking any warmth she could find and he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“So, that was pretty fun,” he chuckled, looking down at her.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, glancing up at him through her eyelashes, his body heat not quite enough to chase away the chill that had seeped into her from the ground.  “Next time I wanna hunt you though,” she teased, shivering.

Gator snorted.  “Not a chance,” he replied, shaking his head, briefly wondering where his cap had fallen, the tip of his nose and ears growing numb from the cold.

“That’s not fair,” Win huffed lightly, snuggling closer, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“Yeah it is,” Gator countered, frowning slightly at how she trembled in his arms.  “C’mon, let’s go back to the truck and warm up, and we can argue more about it when your teeth aren’t chattering.”

Win rolled her eyes, but nodded, letting Gator help her to her feet.  Crouching to snatch his hat and tug it back on his head, he grabbed his paintball gun from where Win had knocked it from his hands.

“Ready?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her close till they got to the truck. “Ready,” she agreed, clinging to him as they walked.  “But don’t think our discussion is over,” she warned lightly. 

“You just wanna shoot me with a paintball,” Gator snorted.

“Maybe,” Win conceded with a grin.  As much as she enjoyed being his prey, she couldn’t deny how much she liked the thought of hunting him next time.

✝︎ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @sailorskunk @thecatkingsthrone @thecreelhouse

@girlwiththerubyslippers @professionalpromqueen @buckysgrace

[silverlullabies]

B E L L I C O S E

Summary: Captain John Price has faced countless enemies in his career, but none like you. A mercenary with a reputation, you infiltrate his unit under the guise of cooperation, but your true motive is far more sinister. Using charm and manipulation to pull their strings, Price finds himself caught in a game he can’t control or predict.

Pairing: Mercenary!Reader x Captain Price, vague mentions of Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader, and Ghost x Reader

Word Count: 16k+

Tags/Triggers: Smut(18+), gaslighting, blood, murder, afab reader, psychological manipulation, guns, knives, death, violence (it’s based off a game about soldiers shooting bad guys, come on), oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, human trafficking, dubious consent, alcohol, really dark content, morally gray reader who’s probably a sociopath, enemies to lovers if you squint

AN: two things, one: I didn’t set out to write this as a morally gray reader. The story kind of got away from me while I was writing it. My bad. And two, I describe the reader as petite compared to the 141 but at its a reverse trope of the petite tiny girl so at least give me the benefit of the doubt and make it past the briefing scene before you give up on it because of the trope. The reader is based off an actual OC of mine in a book I’m writing. I just love Peepaw Price, okay.

BELLICOSE: adjective. demonstrating aggression and willingness to fight.

Alarm bells rang in Price’s head as he watched you, gliding through the shadows of his office like a panther hunting prey. He had known from the start that bringing you onto the team was a mistake. Bloodied teeth and hands stained with grit, fingers curling around blades and triggers with lethal precision.

In a room full of predators like the 141, you were still the apex.

But Laswell had insisted, and Price—ever loyal to her judgment—had conceded, like always.

It wouldn’t happen again.

***

It always started the same way: someone screwed up, and the stakes escalated. Regular operators couldn’t handle the fallout, so they called in the 141—need dirty hands wading through a cesspool of problems? They’re your men.

“You need her on this one,” Laswell had said, sliding your dossier across the sleek ebony wood table that probably cost more than one of his paychecks.

Price didn’t need to read it. Everyone knew The Mercenary. Every soldier worth his salt had heard your name whispered in the dark corridors of conflict.

Deadly. Beautiful. Like a vengeful goddess slinking through the battlefield, your reputation was legend even among special operators who had long since abandoned the idea of there being a god out there. You’d accomplished more in your career than most units combined would in a lifetime.

Price didn’t need to feel the weight of your file to understand. If you’d followed the conventional path, you’d probably be a five-star general by now—his commanding officer. But you had chosen a different way.

Government-contracted, available to the highest bidder, loyal to no flag but the one that paid your exorbitant fee.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, a twinge of resentment he swallowed down. No luxury of choice for him, no hefty paycheck to chase. Just duty, the same beast inside him that clawed for rest while the storm outside only worsened. But duty called again, and so did you.

Laswell was right, though—Price’s men were good, the best, but this mission was something else. Human traffickers using victims as pawns, running weapons across borders into war-torn lands. Human luggage in a nightmare spun by bureaucratic oversight, one that allowed dangerous enemies to arm themselves.

Price couldn’t see any of his men fitting the part for what needed to be done. He wasn’t about to send Ghost, Gaz, or Soap into the field in a dress and heels.

“When does she get here?” Price growled, his gut tightening at the idea of relying on a mercenary. His instincts screamed danger. There was no loyalty from someone like you, only a paycheck. And if the money ran dry? You’d vanish, leaving them to pick up the pieces. A major risk.

“She’s already here,” Laswell replied, and Price closed his eyes, the weight of inevitability settling on his shoulders.

Of course you were.

***

You’re even more stunning than the stories claimed. Soft curves, sultry lines, more tantalizing than even the darkest fantasy hidden in the back of his mind—everything about you is crafted to disarm. Wide, calculating eyes and full lips that hint at wicked intent. Even under the harsh, shitty fluorescent lighting of the briefing room, you manage to look ethereal, otherworldly. The glow makes your skin seem almost too perfect, casting shadows that sharpen your edges in a way that commands attention.

Price feels his breath catch in his throat when he sees you in person for the first time—a reaction he despises in himself. He’s a hardened soldier, decades of battles etched into his soul. Yet here you are, making him feel like some green recruit with a schoolboy crush.

Your poise betrays years of experience. Relaxed, almost bored, you drape yourself across the briefing table like a cat lounging in a sunbeam. It’s unsettling, the way you’re completely at ease despite being surrounded by some of the deadliest men in the world. The 141, all seasoned killers, men who’ve faced horrors most can’t imagine; and yet you make them look like the ones on edge. Amateurs. Wet behind the ears recruits.

The way you sit, tipping your chair back on two legs, snapping your gum, it’s borderline disrespectful. You’re surrounded by battle-hardened operators, yet you act as if you’re in your living room. It’s a brazen, almost reckless display of control. You know they’re watching you, torn between admiration and frustration. Some of them shoot heated glances, others glare, but the reaction is the same. You’re already under their skin.

Your eyes lock onto Price’s, and that dangerous, knowing smirk curls your lips. It’s predatory. Calculated. You know the effect you’re having on the room, on him. It’s a game, and you’re winning before it’s even begun. Your confidence is unnerving. It’s clear you’ve been in rooms like this before, with men just like these, and you’ve always come out on top.

Price has seen your type before. Or at least, he thought he had. But as you shift, languid and lethal, he realizes he’s never encountered anyone quite like you. There’s something almost intoxicating about the way you move, the way you radiate power, sex, and control.

The dossier warned him about your preferred methods. Psychological warfare, it said, and you excelled at it beyond anything any military had ever seen. But now, watching you in action, he understands the depth of that statement. You aren’t just skilled: you’re a force of nature, effortlessly bending men to your will with nothing more than a glance or a smirk.

Price clenches his jaw, reminding himself to stay sharp. You may be beautiful, but you’re dangerous, and in this room full of predators, you’re the alpha.

The tension in the room is palpable as you continue lounging, still flashing that confident, almost taunting smirk. A few of the men exchange looks, clearly wrestling with disbelief. They’ve heard the stories, just like Price, but seeing you now, looking more like a runway model than a deadly mercenary; it’s hard for them to reconcile the myth with the woman before them. The weight of your reputation hovers in the air, but no one speaks it aloud.

Surely the stories were exaggerated, Price thought as he watched you, the quiet figure lounging amidst the behemoths of the 141. You were small—tiny, even—compared to the hulking men surrounding you. They were all sinew and muscle, hardened by the scars of war, skin puckered with keloids and edged with experience. Every inch of them screamed violence, battle-honed warriors ready to strike. And then there was you, standing in the center of it all, soft and petite, as if you’d somehow wandered into the wrong place.

Price struggled to reconcile the image before him with the legend he had heard. The Mercenary—the Mercenary—who had single-handedly taken out entire terrorist cells, dismantled cartels, and assassinated warlords, all while slipping in and out of hostile territories like a ghost. You had pulled off the impossible: extracting hostages from fortified strongholds, escaping death traps set by men who underestimated you, and—on one memorable occasion that seemed too far-fetched to believe—boarding a hijacked plane already 35,000 feet in the air with no safety net to catch you if you missed.

But standing there, you looked almost delicate. Fragile, even. As if a papercut would have you turning lachrymose hues to the men, the skin of your small hands unmarred by the callouses that should have come with years of holding a gun steady. How could someone like you, slight and lithe, with a frame that looked like it belonged in a ballroom, not a battlefield, be the same mercenary who had left trails of bodies in your wake?

It was unsettling. Disarming.

Price’s eyes flicked to the men around you. They were cautious too, thrown off by the contradiction you presented. They’d heard the same stories. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and all his other men—they were all sizing you up, waiting for a sign, something that would confirm or deny the rumors that had reached their ears. But you gave nothing away.

It was easy for the stories to seem exaggerated, to dismiss you as anything other than the quiet, almost too-pretty woman standing before them. But Price had a sinking feeling that those stories, the ones that seemed too wild to be true, might not even scratch the surface of what you were capable of.

And that made you the most dangerous one in the room.

Finally, one of the newer recruits, eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, breaks the silence. His voice cuts through the thick atmosphere like a knife. Impatient, he is. Price needs to drill that out of him before it gets him killed one day, or worse.

“Is this really her? The legendary Mercenary?” he asks, doubt threading through his tone. His eyes narrow, darting over your form as if searching for some obvious flaw, something that proves you aren’t the deadly operative you’re supposed to be. “She doesn’t exactly look the part.”

A low murmur passes between the men, and Price watches carefully, gauging your reaction. They’re on edge, these hardened soldiers, unsure of whether they should be impressed or insulted by the idea that you, this beautiful, relaxed woman, are supposedly their ace in the hole.

You don’t miss a beat. Slowly, with deliberate grace, you let your chair drop back onto all four legs and lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. The shift in your posture is subtle but powerful. The room stills as you survey the faces around you, that lazy, confident grin never leaving your lips. Then you speak, your voice low and smooth, dripping with a dangerous sort of amusement.

“I don’t look the part?” you repeat, eyes sparkling with mischief as you stretch languidly, the movement sending a ripple of distraction through the room. “Go on, sweetheart, tell me, what exactly do you think your enemies are looking for on the battlefield?”

The recruit hesitates, blinking, before he stammers, eyebrows furrowing as if expecting your words to be a trick question, “Uh… Well… people who look like us. Like soldiers.”

You give him a pitying smile, as if you’re explaining something simple to a child. “Exactly. They’re looking for people like you. Trained men, geared up, muscled, armed to the teeth. Big, scary soldiers who they can see coming from a mile away.” Your voice drops, growing almost intimate as you lean forward, eyes hooded. “They aren’t looking for someone like me.”

The room goes quiet again, everyone hanging on your words as you continue, your tone soft but laced with steel. “By the time they even think to check for someone like me? I’m already in their camp, already bleeding them dry, and they don’t even realize it until it’s too late.”

The recruit swallows, his skepticism fading as the weight of your words sinks in. Your beauty, your relaxed demeanor—it isn’t a weakness. It’s a weapon. A weapon that none of them had ever been taught to anticipate. You sit back in your chair, the smirk widening into something almost predatory, letting the silence stretch before you speak again.

“They see you coming. Hell, they’re expecting you. And sure, you’re tough. You’re strong. You know how to fight. But when you look like me, no one expects the knife in the back. No one expects the bullet between their eyes. They underestimate me.” You pause, the smirk twisting into something darker. “And it always costs them everything.”

There’s a shift in the room now. The men exchange uncertain glances, realizing that their assumptions about you have been dangerously naive. Price watches you closely, his gut tightening. You’ve won the room over, made your point loud and clear without so much as breaking a sweat. It’s unsettling, the way you wield words as skillfully as a blade.

Psychological warfare was your preferred weapon, the dossier highlighted.

And maybe that was your greatest weapon. You were the perfect trap—innocuous on the outside, unassuming. But underneath? Underneath was the lethal precision of someone who had mastered the art of deception, who had turned their own appearance into a weapon as sharp as any blade.

Price felt a knot of unease settle in his gut. You didn’t need muscles or brute force. You had something far more dangerous: the element of surprise. You wanted them to underestimate you. Hell, maybe you enjoyed it.

That realization hit him like a cold blade pressed to his throat, and Price shuddered involuntarily. It wasn’t fear, not exactly; not the kind of fear that came from facing an enemy in combat, but something deeper, more primal. The kind of instinct that had kept men alive for centuries. His spine stiffened as the sensation crept down to his core, urging him to adjust, to move, to make sure he always had his eyes on you.

He shifted his position, subtly but deliberately, ensuring that no matter where you moved in the room, he would never have his back to you. It wasn’t conscious, not at first—just an overwhelming sense that he needed to see you, track you, keep you within his line of sight at all times. It was survival instinct at its most raw.

He didn’t trust you. Couldn’t. Not after everything he’d heard. The stories. The way you could turn on a dime, shifting from ally to predator without a second’s warning. And though he knew you were here for the same reason he was—for now, at least—Price couldn’t shake the feeling that the real threat wasn’t the mission. It was you.

The worst part was that you never made it obvious. There was no overt menace, no clear sign of danger. Just the way you moved, fluid and graceful, like a shadow slipping through the cracks of light. It was too easy to picture you with a blade at his throat or a bullet between his eyes, and the thought unsettled him more than it should. You were a mercenary, after all—this was your game.

No, Price realized, he could never afford to look away from you. Not now. Not ever.

You turn your attention back to the recruit, and your voice softens again, the edge in your tone melting away like honey. “So yes, darling, I’m the one they call when things get ugly. Because no one expects the woman to be the monster.”

You let the words hang in the air, the weight of your reputation finally settling in as the men come to terms with what it means to have you on their side. There’s a reason Laswell insisted on bringing you in. A reason Price didn’t protest harder, despite the warning bells ringing in his head.

You’re a weapon. The deadliest kind. One they’re just beginning to understand.

***

The mission began in uneasy silence, the familiar thrum of the helicopter blades cutting through the tension in the air. Ghost sat across from Price, arms folded, eyes hidden behind his skull mask, but even without seeing his expression, Price could sense the discomfort. Soap and Gaz weren’t much better, both of them fidgeting in their seats, exchanging glances but saying nothing— unusual for the two normally loud Sergeants. The air was thick, charged with an unspoken anxiety, malaise.

You sat with them, but apart—physically and emotionally. While the men carried their weapons, tactical vests, and hardened expressions, you wore something completely out of place. Scandalous even, but necessary for the situation. A slinky dress, cut high up the thigh and plunging just low enough to leave nearly nothing to the imagination. Black, tight, and dangerous—like you. Every inch of it was designed to distract, to draw eyes away from the weapon concealed underneath the allure.

Price shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The idea of sending you in dressed like that—to mingle with human traffickers in their filthy, blood-soaked underworld—didn’t sit right with him. You wore no protection, no physical weapon. But he knew it was necessary. None of them could do what you could, slipping between shadows, playing the part so convincingly it was terrifying. You’d be in the belly of the beast, surrounded by men who bought and sold human lives.

As the helicopter roared towards the drop zone, you were the calmest one there, completely unfazed by the mission ahead. You sat with your legs crossed, leaning back against the hull as if this were a casual night out rather than a covert infiltration into the heart of a trafficking ring. You didn’t even glance at the weapons the others carried—why would you? Your body itself was the weapon, sharpened and deadly, while the dress was just a distraction even to the men on the heli.

Price looked out the window, eyes narrowed as he ran through the mission briefing in his head. The traffickers operated out of an exclusive club, hidden behind layers of corruption and bribes. The “Red Room,” they called it—a place where those with enough money could buy anything, anyone. And that’s where you’d be slipping in.

The plan was simple in theory, though nothing ever went as planned. You’d go in first, the rest of the team scattered throughout the perimeter, waiting for your signal. Once you had eyes on the targets—the ringleaders behind the trafficking operation—you’d take them down. Silent, quick, surgical. The rest of the team would follow, sweeping in to clean up the mess.

Price hated it. Despised it. The reliance on a mercenary, the need for you to infiltrate like this—it gnawed at him, leaving him with a deep sense of helplessness as he waited outside while you ventured straight into the lion’s den.

Call him old-fashioned, but the thought of sending a woman into a place built to break women, to degrade them into nothing more than objects, turned his stomach. His skin crawled with the weight of the decision he’d made, the reluctant agreement he’d given when assigning you this task, knowing what it would subject you to, despite your hardened reputation.

The helicopter jerked slightly as they neared the landing zone, the tension in the cabin tightening as they prepared for what came next.

The men checked their gear, but Price couldn’t help but steal a glance at you. You were adjusting the straps of your heels, unbothered by the shift in the helicopter. You caught him looking, and for a brief moment, you smirked—one of those dangerous, knowing smiles that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Relax, Captain,” you purred, voice low and dripping with amusement. “I’ve done this a hundred times. It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Price grunted in response, but the knot of unease in his gut didn’t loosen. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like you. But there was no denying your skill. You were their only shot at infiltrating and escaping without igniting a full-scale war that would spill into the impoverished neighborhoods surrounding The Red Room, putting the locals at risk.

The helicopter landed with a slight jolt, and you stood with the fluidity of a predator. As the doors opened, the cool night air flooded in, mixing with the heavy, pungent smells of the city—garbage, pollution, and the faint stench of decay clinging to its urban foundation coupled with the sting of hot metal from the helicopter.

You were already moving, stepping out into the shadows without a backward glance. Graceful. Tantalizing. A fucking problem if the heat pooling in his lower abdomen was anything to go by.

The Red Room was waiting for you, and with it, the men who thought they could play gods with human lives.

Inside the club, the air hung heavy with a haze of smoke and luxury, the heady mix of costly cologne, sweat, and spilt liquor clinging to every breath. Lights pulsed in time with the music, casting flickering shadows across velvet booths and marble floors. You moved like a wisp through the sea of bodies, effortlessly weaving past gilded figures lost in indulgence, your sharp eyes sweeping over each face, every shadowed corner, alert for the slightest hint of danger.

No one paid you any mind. Just another beautiful woman in a sea of beauty, here to be admired, objectified, discarded.

Your eyes never left the traffickers. They were predators in tailored suits, laughing behind the safety of closed doors, basking in their perceived invincibility. They had no idea that the real predator had already infiltrated their den. A viper in a den of wolves.

Among them, you spotted a target—a bloated, balding man, a thick cigar dangling from his lips as he smirked, a young girl, stiff with terror and silently pleading anyone with her eyes for help, held under his heavy fat arm like an accessory while he dragged her beyond double doors. In an instant, you melted into the shadows, slipping away from the glittering chaos of the club like a whisper carried on the wind, following them.

The Red Room was hidden down a dim corridor, guarded by two burly men. You approached them with a practiced, sultry smile; an expression crafted to exploit the foolishness and vanity of men like these. It worked, as it always did. One of them barely glanced at you before stepping aside, holding the door open without hesitation.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The decadent luxury of the club gave way to something colder, darker. The air in the hallway felt sterile and oppressive, thick with the stench of fear and cruelty. Tears and sex. Depravity and desolation.

As you walked, the soft click of your heels against the marble floor echoed through the space, a haunting reminder of the danger lurking just beneath the surface. Outside, the guards remained blissfully unaware of the storm about to break.

***

Outside, Price and his men lay in wait, a silent sentinel group surveying the entrance. They were a hawk-eyed presence, alert to every detail as they observed the ebb and flow of clubgoers; oblivious revelers lost in the rhythm of the night, unaware of the horrors festering behind the liquor-drenched walls of the establishment. Among them were the human traffickers, predators moving with calculated ease through the crowd, fully aware of the darkness that lurked within.

As the hours dragged on, tension grew palpable in the air. His men shifted restlessly, eyes darting towards the entrance, where your absence weighed heavy. The recruits fidgeted first, their anxiety contagious; soon, even the seasoned veterans succumbed to the unease.

You should have signaled by now.

An uncomfortable weight settled in Price’s gut, worry sinking like a stone, as doubt slithered into his mind. Had his trust in you been misplaced? Were your stories mere fabrications? Was he leading a lamb to slaughter, destined to storm the building only to find your lifeless shell left among the remnants of your fight, chewed up and spat out among the cum-stained shackles of other victims?

Just as he began to consider which of his men he would send in to check on you, the comms crackled to life, your voice sultry and cursory. “Bravo-Six, this is Bravo-Two, how copy?”

Price jolted, relief singing through his veins, the tension in his chest easing. “Solid, Bravo-Two. What's your sitrep?”

“Come see. Back door through the alley. Watch your footing. Follow the hallway on your left to a row of offices. Third door on your right.” And then silence enveloped the channel once more, your voice replaced by the eerie quiet that had plagued it for hours now.

Price exchanged a quick glance with Ghost, the closest man to him, before signaling for the team to move. The meaning behind your warning echoed in his mind, leaving him to wonder what you meant about needing to watch his footing.

He wouldn’t have to wonder for long.

As they entered the back door, the scene before him was grotesque. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, torn and mutilated as if an unstoppable force had swept through them like a violent storm. The human traffickers, buyers, and sellers were dead, their lifeless forms littered with stab wounds and bullet holes, blood pooling around them in dark, congealed puddles, mixing with shards of glass and spilled liquor.

In the shadowy corners of The Red Room, only the victims remained alive—caged like wounded animals, trembling and whimpering, their bodies splattered with the blood of their tormentors.

Price signaled to some of his men to break off and attend to the victims while instructing others to clear the club beyond a set of double doors. The pounding music masked the carnage that lay inside, a stark contrast to the horror they had just uncovered. The rest followed him down a lavishly decorated hallway into a series of opulent offices, where he found you standing amidst the chaos—three dead men scattered around you.

The fourth man knelt on the floor, blood oozing from a gash in his cheek, hands bound behind his back. His eyes wide in terror as he stared at you, as if confronted by a demon, his mind no doubt racing through a rapid reassessment of his life choices as you forced him to come face to face with his mortality.

“Saved you one,” you drawled in lieu of a greeting as you caught sight of the Captain, your hair and skin slick with the tacky blood of others, but not yours.

“You were supposed to call for us, not take on all the traffickers by yourself,” Price snapped, his frustration palpable. You blinked at him, as if the notion of needing assistance was a foreign concept, a radical idea that the 141’s involvement should have been more than a fleeting afterthought.

With an unapologetic shrug, you met his gaze, defiance radiating from you. “Easier this way.”

Unrepentant. Disrespectful.

He hated you. Fucking Mercenaries.

A slow, almost predatory grin curled at your lipstick stained lips, as though you could read Price’s mind and took pleasure in the thought that he despised you. Yet, you didn’t acknowledge it—not now. Still, there was a glint in your eyes, something that made Price’s jaw tighten. He knew you’d throw it in his face later. Call it instinct.

Instead, you turned to the bound man, giving his blood-soaked cheek a condescending pat, like one might to a dog. Blood sprayed across his already stained collar as your manicured fingers dug into his swollen skin. “Meet Vasily Mikhailovich. Human trafficker. Arms dealer. Limited intelligence. Smallest dick you’ve ever seen—”

Vasily snarled in rage, and despite his restraints, he lunged at you. Before Price or his men could react with anything more than raising their weapons, there was a sharp crack. Vasily collapsed at your feet, screaming in agony, his clavicle jutting grotesquely through taut skin. Price hadn’t even seen you move until you were casually resuming your stance, as though nothing had happened.

“That wasn’t very smart of you,” you mused, staring down at the whimpering man, nudging him with the tip of your heel until he rolled over. “It’s rude to try and hit ladies, Mikhailovich.”

A string of curses, half in English, half in Russian, spilled from his lips, but you only smiled, your amusement growing with each word.

You let him continue for a few seconds before you crouched down beside Vasily, your movements fluid and deliberate and his words seemed to die in his throat. You placed your fingers along his jawline, tutting slightly, shushing him.

Price saw it then, the way you wielded your allure like a well-honed tool. With a subtle arch in your back, your posture softened, the dim light of the office casting just the right shadows to highlight your beauty. Your lips curved into a sultry smile, eyes hooded, inviting him— and the rest of the men in the room by extension— to fall into your gaze.

“Shhh,” you whispered, and the air seemed to thicken as you reached out and traced the tip of your blood-slicked finger along his jawline and lower lip, feather light and lingering, like a lover’s touch. His breath hitched, a mix of pain and primal fear contorting his face, but his eyes, those bloodshot, desperate eyes, were hooked on yours.

“Good boy,” you murmured, voice a little sweeter this time, as if rewarding him for his compliance.

“You know, Vasily,” you purred, your voice like velvet, smooth and sinuous, wrapping around the room and dragging everyone into its grasp, “this could go one of two ways. You can keep fighting, keep snarling like the wild dog you are, or…” You leaned in closer, your lips nearly brushing his ear, your words a delicate whisper. “You can tell me everything I need to know. And I’ll make sure the pain stops.”

Vasily’s breathing grew ragged, his mind fraying at the edges, caught between the unbearable throbbing of his broken bone and the soft cadence of your voice. The way you spoke was a lullaby wrapped in threat, every syllable pulling him further into your orbit. Your touch, your voice, your closeness, all of it was like a drug, a disorienting effect that left him feeling both weak and intensely present all at once.

Behind you, Price’s men shifted, eyes flickering between you and the scene unfolding. Even Price, seasoned and hardened as he was, found himself unwillingly mesmerized by the subtle sway of your voice and the deliberate elegance of your movements. Your presence wove through the room like an intoxicating perfume, something that clung to the air, seeming to lull every threat into submission.

Like a manipulative deadly trap.

You moved your hand lower, tracing the lines of Vasily’s arm, lingering just above his restraints, fingers feather-light, the promise of relief so close yet maddeningly distant. His eyes fluttered, and for a second, the defiance in him flickered, like a candle in a storm.

“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you, Vasily?” The words dripped like honey, your lips curling into a smile that was equal parts deadly and intoxicating. Your words echoed through their minds, a seductive whisper that wrapped around their thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything else. “I know you want to. It’s so much easier to obey. So much easier to make the pain stop.”

He swallowed hard, his tongue darting nervously across his cracked lips. “I—I don’t know anything,” he stammered, his voice hoarse, but there was less conviction now. Your presence was overwhelming, dominating. He wasn’t even speaking to a human anymore; you were something else entirely. Something that demanded submission. He felt powerless, helpless in your clutches, unable to pull away even if he wanted to.

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through him. “Don’t lie, Vasily.” You ran your fingers through his greasy hair, tugging lightly, enough to elicit a groan from him. His eyes half-closed as you tugged harder, the sharp pain mingling with the soft lilt of your voice in a way that confused him, that made his head spin. “I know you know. You wouldn’t be where you are if you didn’t. Now tell me…”

You let the sentence hang, trailing your free hand down his neck, your nails grazing his skin lightly, drawing a shudder from him. The whole room seemed to hang on your words, even Price’s men— even Soap, Gaz, and Ghost, seemed caught in your snare, their breaths shallow, as if they too were waiting for something to break.

Your lips brushed dangerously close to Vasily’s ear, tone warm, gentle, enough to make him doubt whether you were a threat at all, or if maybe, just maybe, you were on his side. He gasped, and his resistance snapped. “All right, all right!” His voice was strained, desperate. “It’s—it’s the shipments. The next one’s coming in two days. Weapons. Girls. They— they’re moving them through the docks. I swear. That’s all I know. Just—fuck.”

You smiled again, softer this time, a false kindness that made Vasily’s heart skip, and released your grip on his hair, smoothing it back into place with an almost tender touch. “There you go,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The relief on his face was palpable, as if he had been released from some invisible chokehold and in that instant the spell you’d weaved over the entire room like strands of spun sugar shattered leaving Price feeling like he’d been dunked into an icy lake.

Vasily’s entire body sagged, his muscles slackening under your gaze as you rose gracefully to your feet, giving a languid stretch and turned to Price, eyes gleaming with that same magnetic energy.

“All yours, Captain,” you said, your voice a little too sweet, a little too dangerous. “Unless, of course, you’re still doubting me?”

Price’s jaw tightened, the image of the bodies you dropped in the corridor outside of the office flashing through his mind, his eyes flickering on Vasily and the tent in his pants, the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction, the boost to your ego, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t doubt you. Not anymore. None of them would.

***

Two days later, the docks loom before them, sprawling across the coastline like a forgotten graveyard of steel and rust. Shipping containers stacked high like tombstones, warehouses slouched in the distance, and cranes poised like skeletons against the darkening sky. The sea churns in the background, a slate gray mass flecked with whitecaps as the eastern wind howls through the gaps between the structures. The smell of saltwater and oil hangs in the air, thick and acrid, clinging to everything like a stain that won’t wash off. Overhead, the cries of gulls are swallowed by the low hum of machinery, the industrial heartbeat of a place where shadowy deals are brokered in the dark. The perfect setting for the kind of bloodstained business you’re about to tear apart.

Tonight, there’s no need for seductive disguises or glittering gowns. You’re clad in tactical gear that fits like a second skin, tight Kevlar pants hugging your form, combat boots laced tight, and a custom tactical vest that clings to your curves in a way that draws more than a few glances from the others. No helmet, though—when Soap questions your lack of NVGs, his brow furrowed in confusion, you merely smirk at him, your voice dropping to a playful coo as if he’s a child asking about monsters under the bed. “Don’t worry, love. I see plenty in the dark.”

Unlike last time, you’re not going in alone. You move with them, part of the team, though it quickly becomes clear that you’re still in a league of your own. As the raid begins, Price watches you weave through the shadows, faster and deadlier than anyone else. The operation moves like clockwork, the team dispersing to take their positions, rifles poised, eyes sharp. But while the others move like soldiers, precise and tactical, you move like a predator, instinct guiding you as much as training.

The first targets fall almost too easily. You glide up behind one of the guards, your knife flashing like silver lightning in the moonlight, and in an instant, the man crumples to the ground, his throat slit before he even knows what hit him. Silent. Efficient. Deadly. Price catches a glimpse of you through the scope of his rifle, watching as you drag the body into the shadows, your movements quick and fluid, and he’s reminded of the reports he read—brutal, vicious, without mercy.

But words on paper pale in comparison to the reality before him. As the firefight breaks out, gunfire erupts around the docks, chaos exploding in every direction, and you’re in the thick of it, tearing through enemies with a terrifying grace. You’re not just fighting; you’re dismantling them, piece by bloody piece. One man lunges at you with a knife, and in a heartbeat, you twist his wrist with a bone-snapping crack, slam him against a shipping container, and bury your blade in his chest without a second thought. Another opens fire, but before he can get a second shot off, you’re already on him, disarming him with a brutal kick to the jaw that leaves him sprawling on the ground. You don’t hesitate to finish him off, a single bullet to the skull, your movements cold and unrelenting.

Price orders his men to push forward, but his gaze keeps flicking back to you. He’s seen black ops soldiers in action before—seen Spetsnaz cut through enemies with machine-like precision—but you’re something else. There’s a ferocity in the way you fight, a raw, unbridled violence that has nothing to do with rules or regulations. It’s personal. Every move, every strike, feels like it carries a deeper purpose, as if the blood on your hands is a long-overdue justice you’ve been waiting to exact.

Soap lets out a low whistle over comms, his voice thick with awe. “Screaming Jesus, she’s a one-woman army.”

Price doesn’t respond, his jaw set tight as he watches you tear through another wave of enemies. The reports weren’t just accurate—they were restrained. You’re more than what they described, more than what even he expected. And as the last of the traffickers are mopped up, bodies littering the docks like broken marionettes, Price realizes there’s no one alive tonight who’ll walk away with a different opinion.

Not of The Mercenary. Not of the storm she unleashed.

It’s not long before the docks finally fall silent, what with you tearing through the traffickers like a hot knife through butter like you did. The echoes of gunfire faded into the night as Price surveyed the aftermath—bodies strewn across the grimy concrete, the remnants of a trafficking ring laid to waste. His team moved like shadows, finishing up the sweep, checking corners, and clearing out the last stragglers. Everything was by the book, clean and efficient, the kind of op that Price had seen a hundred times before.

But there was something different this time, and it wasn’t just the bloodied bodies left behind. It was you.

You stood near the water’s edge, wiping blood from your knife with a rag, the same calm expression on your face as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. As if you hadn’t torn through armed men like they were made of paper, leaving only devastation in your wake. You didn’t even glance at the bodies or the carnage around you. To you, this was routine, just another mission. Another paycheck.

Price’s eyes narrowed as he watched you. This was the part where you’d usually disappear—head out for your next contract, vanish into the night like the ghost you were. It’s what mercenaries did. They moved from job to job, no loyalty, no ties, just the endless chase of money and violence. He expected you to do the same now, your work here done.

But as his team packed up, ready to head back to base, you didn’t move.

Price signaled for the team to regroup, his orders coming out in short, clipped bursts over the comms. His focus was on his men, but his thoughts were on you. You weren’t leaving. Why weren’t you leaving?

You boarded the transport with them, sitting in the back, quiet, composed. Pupils blown wide as if you were excited instead of bone tired like the rest of them.

Soap, sitting across from you, gave you a raised brow, clearly curious, but he kept his distance. No one spoke. Not even you, which was… odd. Too odd.

Price kept glancing your way during the ride back, suspicion gnawing at him. What was your game? There was no reason for you to stay. No reason for you to be here, surrounded by military personnel, under their scrutiny. Yet you were sitting there, casual as ever, your gear still drenched in blood, as if this was where you belonged.

When the transport rolled into the base, Price caught Ghost’s eye, the unspoken tension crackling between them. His second-in-command seemed as wary as he was, but neither voiced their concerns just yet. They couldn’t. Not without proof. Not without something more than a gut feeling.

As they disembarked, Price expected you to peel off, maybe hitch a ride to the nearest city. But you followed them into the heart of the base, your steps unhurried, your presence unnervingly calm. You weren’t rushing to leave. You were settling in. Like you intended to stay.

***

A few days had passed since the raid at the docks, and everything seemed to settle back into the usual rhythm at the base. On the surface, anyway. Price was back to his routine, briefing the team, debriefing them, overseeing the cleanup from the mission. The trafficking ring had been dismantled, their operations left in ruin, and the victims had been taken care of. Everything should’ve been straightforward.

But it wasn’t.

His instincts told him otherwise. Something was off.

You were still here.

Price had expected you to vanish the moment the job was done. That’s what mercenaries did—complete the contract, collect the payout, and disappear without a second thought. No attachments, no lingering. But it had been days, and you hadn’t left. You wandered the base, moved through the halls like you belonged here, like you had no intention of leaving.

Every time he spotted you, that same unease crept up his spine. You wore the same calm, composed expression, no sign of hurry or purpose. You engaged with his men like you were another soldier of his making passing comments and bantering, the occasional smirk that tugging at your lips when Soap or Gaz tried to strike up casual conversation. And while the others seemed to accept your presence without question, Price couldn’t shake the feeling that something darker lurked beneath your cool exterior.

It was late one night when he spotted you standing near the armory, inspecting some gear. No one else was around. The quiet of the base hummed in the background, punctuated only by the low buzz of security lights. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching you. You didn’t notice him—or at least, you didn’t make it obvious that you had.

He could still hear the rumors from the mission. Ghost, Soap, Gaz—they all talked about the way you’d torn through the enemy like a storm, leaving bodies broken and bloodied in your wake. Brutal. Vicious. No mercy. The reports hadn’t done you justice. And yet, here you were, walking through their base like the aftermath of that massacre hadn’t left a mark on you.

Price had seen enough soldiers go through hell and come out the other side broken or hardened, scarred in ways that never truly healed. But you? There was nothing but cold precision in your every movement, as if all the violence and death you caused was just another day at work. That was what bothered him the most—how utterly unfazed you were. How dangerous that made you.

As you turned, spotting him in the doorway, that small, knowing smile curled across your lips. Like you knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same smile you’d given after the mission, when you’d cleaned off your knife without so much as a glance at the carnage you’d left behind.

“Price,” you greeted, your tone light, casual, as if the two of you were old acquaintances.

He grunted in return, stepping into the room, crossing his arms. “Still here, I see.”

Your smile deepened, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “Didn’t know I had a deadline.”

“You don’t,” Price replied, though his voice was tight, clipped. “But most mercs don’t stick around after the job’s done.”

Price narrowed his eyes, watching the way you shrugged off his question with a casual, almost too-relaxed air. “I like the company,” you said, your voice smooth, unbothered, like someone who had nothing to hide. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

For someone in your line of work, you were too comfortable. Too at ease, lingering here long after the job was done. No mercenary sticks around just because they “like the company.” It didn’t add up.

He stared at you for a moment longer, your calm demeanor suddenly grating on him. And that’s when it clicked—the way you never seemed rushed to leave, the way your eyes tracked every movement in a room, like you were always assessing, calculating. This wasn’t about the company. It wasn’t even about the mission anymore.

Price could feel it in his gut, that same gnawing feeling that told him you were here for more than just the mission. You had a second objective, something that kept you close to them, waiting, watching.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let something worse than any enemy into their midst. A rot, festering beneath the surface, quiet and patient. You were no ordinary mercenary. You were a plague, spreading through their ranks, waiting for the right moment to turn gangrenous and poison them all from within.

His jaw clenched as he met your gaze, refusing to let the unease show in his eyes. “What’s your real game here?”

For a long moment, you said nothing, just watched him with that same maddening composure. Slowly, your head tilted, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but it never touched your eyes.

“Curiosity, Captain. I’m simply curious.”

“Curious about what?” His voice was low, a deep rumble like distant thunder on the verge of a storm.

Instead of answering, you gave him that smile—a smile he knew all too well. He’d seen it before, on the faces of sociopaths who thrived on control. Lips pulled tight over teeth, but no warmth, no humanity behind the gaze.

A chill slid down his spine, and his fingers itched toward his gun. But he held steady, knowing that drawing it wouldn’t intimidate you. If anything, he had the unsettling suspicion it might amuse you instead.

***

Weeks passed, and you didn’t leave.

Price watched you like a hawk, waiting for the moment you’d pack up, chase down another contract, disappear like the mercenary you were. But you stayed. You drifted through their base like a shadow, always there but never fully integrated, always just on the periphery.

Every move you made was calculated, deliberate, and though no one said it outright, the entire team felt it. You were a presence; unsettling, magnetic, impossible to ignore. Like a lit candle you should keep an eye on less it be forgotten and burn your house down as a result.

Price had never felt this level of constant tension before. Not on long deployments, not during high-stakes missions. It wasn’t the enemy outside that kept him awake at night; it was you. The way you seemed to move through their ranks without ever fully being a part of them.

He stayed on edge, hyper-vigilant, like a coiled spring, knowing something was going to snap, but unsure of when or how. His senses were stretched thin, his patience even thinner.

It was like having a wolf among sheep, and worse, the sheep were growing comfortable with it.

One night, as Price sat alone in his office, eyes burning from lack of sleep, his head buzzing when there was a quiet knock on the door. It was Gaz, looking more awkward than usual.

“Sir, I thought you should know… Soap’s been, uh… spending time with her.” He didn’t say your name, but he didn’t have to. There was only one “her” that could cause this kind of unease.

Price’s stomach dropped. “Define ‘spending time,’ Sergeant.”

Gaz shifted uncomfortably. “They, uh… hooked up. Last night.”

Price’s hand clenched into a fist, knuckles going white against the desk. He didn’t want to believe it, but he could see the truth in Gaz’s eyes. The warning signs had been there. Soap had always been the bold one, reckless even, and you—well, you thrived on that. Price should’ve seen this coming.

His mind raced. Soap, of all people, had fallen into your web. He could only imagine how you’d spun it, lured him in with that seductive charm you wielded like a weapon. And now? Now one of his own was compromised, and he could feel the situation spiraling out of his control.

Price dismissed Gaz with a terse nod, and the second the door closed, he slammed his fist down on the desk.

This wasn’t just about Soap being reckless or stupid. It was about you. Staying on base for weeks without any clear reason, keeping everyone on edge. And now, with Soap tangled up in whatever game you were playing, it was like watching a slow poison seep into the unit.

He stood up, jaw clenched as he paced the room, trying to think. He couldn’t let this go on. He couldn’t afford to be patient anymore. Whatever your endgame was, you had already begun to rot away at the heart of his team.

***

Price didn’t sleep that night. He paced his office, mind racing, piecing together every moment from the past few weeks. Every time he’d caught your eye lingering on him, every smile that felt more like a test than a gesture of goodwill. Now, with Soap wrapped up in your web, it was clear that this wasn’t just his paranoia. You had an agenda, and he had let you into their midst.

The next morning, Price called a meeting. The men gathered in the briefing room, and he could feel the shift in the air as soon as you entered. All eyes gravitated toward you. You moved like you always did—fluid, confident, unbothered. Soap sat across the table, his gaze drifting to you more than it should, and Price’s jaw tightened.

He began to speak, his voice sharp as a knife. “We’re moving out tonight. Intel says there’s a shipment coming in—drugs, arms, the usual. We’re going to shut it down.” The plan wasn’t anything new—standard sweep and seizure. But it was the underlying tension in the room that couldn’t be ignored. Price’s words were meant to shift the focus, to drag his team back to where they needed to be. But as he spoke, he caught you watching him, your expression unreadable, a flicker of amusement in your eyes that sent a chill down his spine.

Once the briefing ended, the men dispersed, except for Soap, who lingered by you, grinning like he was in on some private joke. Price stared at him for a moment longer than necessary before heading out, fighting the rising frustration in his gut.

Later on after finishing up the mission, Price sat in his office, the faint hum of activity echoing through the hallways. His door cracked open slightly, letting in the soft shuffle of footsteps, the sound unmistakable.

“Captain.”

Your voice, low and almost playful, cut through the silence like a blade. He didn’t turn to look at you. He couldn’t trust himself to keep his composure.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” you continued, stepping further into the room. He could hear the soft click of the door shutting behind you. “Everything alright?”

Price clenched his jaw. “I was just focused on the mission.”

“That so?” You circled around to stand in front of his desk, leaning against it casually, too casually for his liking. Your presence was overwhelming, filling the small space like a thick fog. “You don’t seem like the type to get distracted, Captain.”

“And you seem like the type that enjoys creating distractions.” He finally met your gaze, and the way you smiled in response sent a shiver of unease down his spine. You were toying with him, and worse, you knew he knew it.

“Why are you still here?” Price asked, his voice low, controlled.

Your smile widened slightly. “I told you before—curiosity.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You don’t stay in one place this long for curiosity.”

You didn’t flinch at his tone, didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, you leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as you regarded him like a predator assessing prey. “I’ve spent time in many places. Ask around—check with units in Marawi, Mogadishu, Kandahar… even Berlin. I always seem to stick around longer than planned, don’t I?” You laughed lightly, shaking your head like it was an amusing coincidence. “But then again, maybe they never saw it either. Maybe you’re the only one smart enough to see the bigger picture.”

Price’s pulse quickened. Every location you listed, every unit you mentioned, could easily be verified. You knew that. But it was the way you laid it out—so casually, like you weren’t even concerned—that made him falter. Like you wanted him to check, knowing full well what he’d find. Hadn’t you been acting the same way there too? Charming your way through, making yourself indispensable, all the while threading yourself deeper into their fabric until it was too late to unravel you?

“You can ask, Captain,” you purred, leaning in just a little closer, the air between you suffocating with tension. “But you won’t find anything out of the ordinary. Because, if you start seeing ghosts in every corner… well, maybe the problem isn’t me…”

You trailed off meaningfully and Price didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was racing, every instinct screaming at him that something was very, very wrong. You had stayed too long, ingratiated yourself too easily, and now Soap was involved. And even though he wanted to believe it was just a lapse in judgment on Soap’s part, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all part of a larger plan. And yet…

“You know,” you said softly, almost thoughtfully, “trust is such a delicate thing. Once it’s broken, it’s hard to repair. You start questioning everything. Everyone.”

The way you said it made Price’s skin crawl. You were baiting him, pushing him to the edge, and he was dangerously close to snapping.

“What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded, standing up, fists clenched.

You didn’t back down. If anything, you seemed to enjoy the tension, your smile sharpening into something more predatory. “Nothing at all, Captain. Just… enjoying my time. Having fun.”

Price took a step closer, his voice a low growl. “This isn’t a game.”

You tilted your head slightly, the smile never leaving your face. “I never said it was, Captain. I’m afraid you’re reading too far into things. Seeing shadows where there isn’t any.”

Price’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood there, caught in a web of uncertainty and suspicion. He didn’t trust you. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could trust his own men anymore, not after what happened with Soap.

But as much as he wanted to get you off his base, to throw you out and wash his hands of this whole mess, he couldn’t. Not yet. Because something told him that whatever you were really after, it wasn’t just Soap. And until he knew for sure what your endgame was, he had no choice but to keep you close—and pray that he hadn’t just let a fox into the henhouse.

As you turned to leave, Price couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost a battle he hadn’t even realized he was fighting. “Sweet dreams, Captain. Good night.”

***

Price hung up the phone, staring at the receiver as if it could offer answers to the storm raging in his mind. Eight months. You’d lingered for eight whole months after your contract ended in Berlin, weaving yourself into the fabric of another unit’s daily routine, and just like the Colonel had said, you left without a trace of anything suspicious. No incidents. No trouble. Just gone, as suddenly as you had come.

But the Colonel’s words echoed in his mind: “I thought the same like you, Captain, Ja. I had my eyes on her the whole time, thought something was happening… but nothing ever came of it. She is slippery, that one, but not a drop of blut was out of place when she went away.”

Price exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, fingers massaging his temples. Eight months. He should’ve been reassured, should’ve felt some relief hearing that someone else, someone just as seasoned, had gone through the same ordeal. But instead, it gnawed at him, deepening the pit of uncertainty growing in his gut. If nothing happened then… why did every nerve in his body scream at him now?

He’d been in the field for decades, lived through hells most men wouldn’t survive, and his instincts had kept him alive through it all. But now? Now he was doubting himself. Questioning his own judgment, wondering if the years had worn him down, made him paranoid. Had it all finally caught up to him? Maybe the pressure, the decades of battle scars, were finally showing. Yet, every fiber of his being still rebelled against the idea of ignoring what was so blatantly wrong.

No, he thought. My instincts are never wrong. He had learned to trust that gut feeling, the one that separated him from the men who didn’t make it.

The door creaked open, and Ghost stepped in, interrupting the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in Price’s head. He stood there, imposing as always, but there was something different in his expression. Price sat up straighter, bracing himself.

“Sir,” Ghost started, his voice steady but with an edge of uncertainty, unusual for the Lieutenant.

“What is it?” Price asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“The mercenary,” Ghost clarified, his eyes narrowing slightly. “She took part in a training drill today with some of the recruits.”

Price blinked. That wasn’t unusual in itself. You’d been weaving in and out of different areas for weeks now, always showing up in unexpected places, like you were trying to familiarize yourself with every inch of the base. But the tension in Ghost’s stance told Price there was more to the story.

“What happened?” Price asked, already feeling a creeping dread in the back of his mind.

“One of the recruits made a mistake. Big one,” Ghost continued. “Nearly cost him his life. Got caught up in a malfunction on the rappel during the high-altitude training drill.”

Price’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

“She saved him,” Ghost said simply. “Reacted faster than anyone else. Snapped the rope, pulled him out before he hit the deck.”

Price was silent for a moment, digesting the information. “She saved him?”

Ghost nodded. “Yeah. Kid would’ve been dead if not for her. She didn’t just follow protocol. She handled it like she’d done it a hundred times before.”

Price leaned back in his chair again, his mind whirling. You’d saved a recruit’s life, a move that should have earned you praise. But all he could feel was a deepening sense of confusion. You were smart—too smart, maybe. Every move you made, every little gesture, seemed calculated. Even this.

“Did she say anything afterward?” Price asked, narrowing his eyes at Ghost.

“Not much,” Ghost replied. “Just told him to ‘pay better attention next time.’ Then walked off like nothing happened.”

Price nodded, though the pit in his stomach widened. You were integrating yourself even more, and not just through casual conversation or staying on base. Now, you were actively participating in training, putting yourself in situations where people’s lives depended on you. Perfectly timed, Price thought. You knew how to make yourself indispensable, a hero even. It was the perfect strategy—who would suspect someone who just saved a recruit’s life?

But it only added to Price’s unease. You weren’t just hanging around. You were embedding yourself deeper into their operations, gaining trust in subtle, almost insidious ways. The other soldiers would start seeing you as one of them now, and that was exactly what Price had been afraid of. You were smart, calculated, and every move you made had a purpose.

Ghost noticed Price’s silence, his usual unreadable expression giving way to a flicker of concern. “You think she’s up to something?”

“I don’t know,” Price admitted, his voice rough. “But I’m damn sure we’ve let something in. And if we don’t figure it out soon, it’s going to spread.” He glanced at Ghost, knowing he needed his team more than ever. “Keep an eye on her. And make sure the others do too. If she’s playing us… I don’t want her to slip through our fingers.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before turning to leave, but Price didn’t feel any better. The pieces were moving, the game had started, and you had somehow made yourself both player and wildcard. And if Price wasn’t careful, you were going to turn everything on its head.

***

Unfortunately for the growing alarm bells ringing— screaming— in the back of his head, Price couldn’t deny the shift that had taken place after you saved Private Merrick’s life. The act, as timely as it was heroic, had made you a near instant legend on base. Where there had once been wariness, there was now admiration. Distrust had given way to camaraderie. The mercenary who’d sparked suspicion had, overnight, become one of them.

The recruits, green and eager to prove themselves, were especially captivated. They hung on every word you said, their wide-eyed awe palpable as you walked among them, offering tips, pointers, and more often than not, a sly smile that sent them stumbling over themselves. Soap, naturally, had been quick to follow. Gaz too, now. Wherever you went, they seemed to hover nearby, as if drawn in by some invisible thread you were masterfully tugging.

They weren’t the only ones. The seasoned soldiers, men hardened by battle, found themselves drawn in as well, their initial skepticism melting into begrudging respect. You were seen everywhere now: the gym, the shooting range, combat drills, simulations. You seamlessly inserted yourself into every facet of their routine, giving advice, correcting form, all with a confidence and casual ease that was impossible to ignore.

They ate it up: your presence, your guidance, the way you seemed to understand every nuance of warfare as if you’d written the manual yourself. And through it all, that same playful amusement never left your expression, like you were indulging them in some elaborate game only you truly understood.

For most, that was enough. The charm, the beauty, the undeniable skill, all of it combined into a perfect storm that left the men blind to the subtle machinations beneath the surface. But not Price. And not Ghost.

No, for Price, the growing crowd of admirers only deepened the unease gnawing at him. You were too good at this. Too adept at weaving yourself into the fabric of their base, ingratiating yourself with the men until even the most seasoned soldiers saw you as one of them. It should have been reassuring, knowing that so many eyes were on you, watching your every move. But it wasn’t.

Because Price knew that the more you were seen, the more you were in control. And control, he realized, was exactly what you wanted.

He’d watched you long enough now to know there was no accident in the way you operated. Every interaction, every gesture, was carefully measured, designed to draw people closer while keeping them just far enough from the truth. They saw the hero who saved lives, the expert who could outshoot and outfight most of them. They didn’t see the subtle manipulation, the way you orchestrated their perception of you with all the grace of a master conductor.

Price watched it unfold daily, helpless to stop it, and it unnerved him. You were a serpent in their midst, coiled and waiting, though for what, he wasn’t sure.

It was that uncertainty, the sense that there was more beneath the surface, that had him on edge. He tried to shake it off, to tell himself he was overthinking, that his paranoia was getting the best of him. But his instincts, the same instincts that had kept him alive for decades, refused to quiet.

And then there was Ghost. Silent, observant Ghost, who had taken to watching you with the same wariness that Price felt but couldn’t yet name. The two of them were the last holdouts, the only ones still resisting the pull of your charm. But for how long?

One evening, as Price sat in his office, the weight of sleepless nights and gnawing doubts pressing heavily on him, he heard the now-familiar sound of footsteps approaching his door. He didn’t need to look up to know it was you. There was something distinctive about the way you moved—too smooth, too deliberate.

“Captain,” your voice purred, cutting through the stillness of the room. Slid through the air, low and laced with amusement.

He didn’t bother to respond immediately, keeping his eyes on his paperwork (though his focus had long since abandoned him), hoping you’d take the hint. But of course, you didn’t. You never did. You weren’t one for leaving things alone.

You closed the door behind you and stepped further into the room, the space seeming to shrink around your presence. Thick and suffocating, creeping in the room like smoke. The sweetest perfume. “You’ve been keeping to yourself,” you observed, your tone light, playful, as if you were speaking to an old friend. Teasing. This was all a game to you. He knew it was. He knew you enjoyed every second of it.

“I’m busy,” Price muttered, not looking up from the papers scattered across his desk. Jaw tight. Molar aching. He could feel you watching him. Dissecting him with those sharp, calculating eyes. The room felt smaller with you in it.

“Busy with what? Watching me?” The challenge was evident in your voice, a hint of amusement curling the edges of your words. You took slow, deliberate steps towards his desk. Through the shadows. A panther hunting prey.

Bringing you here was a mistake but Laswell had insisted, and Price— ever loyal to her judgment— had conceded, like always.

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Price’s grip on the pen tightened. It took everything in him not to snap, not to lash out in a way that you’d only twist into some game. He could feel his pulse quicken, an involuntary reaction to the control you wielded so effortlessly.

“Why are you still here?” he finally asked, his voice low and controlled. Brittle. Like rust flaking off metal.

“I’ve told you,” you began, leaning forward just enough to invade his space. You smiled, that maddening smile, like you knew exactly what you were doing. “I’m curious.” Tone dripping with false innocence.

Price isn’t a religious man but even he knows mythology all around the world say the same thing sometimes: a monster that takes on the shape of beautiful women to lure men in and bleed them dry. Siren. Succubus. Lamia. Jorogumo. Nymphs. You.

Price didn’t buy it. Couldn’t buy it. “Curiosity doesn’t make you stay this long.”

You smiled, that same infuriating, empty smile you always gave. “You really think I’m up to something, don’t you?”

He met your gaze, and for the briefest moment, he saw something flicker in your eyes. Amusement. Triumph. You know, he thought. You know exactly what you’re doing, and you’re enjoying it. The way you were looking at him— it wasn’t innocent at all.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Price asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your eyes glinted with something darker and the air felt heavier. “What do you mean?”

“You linger. Stick around bases after your contracts end. Like in Berlin,” Price pressed, his voice low but firm. “Eight months. That’s what they said. And nothing happened, right?”

Your smile widened, eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “Is that what’s bothering you, Captain? That nothing happened?”

Price’s heart pounded in his chest. You were pushing him. Toying with him, manipulating every word to plant more doubt, more confusion.

“You can call them, you know,” you said, leaning even closer. “Berlin. Warsaw. Cairo. Ask around. I’ve stayed on bases longer than I should have, but nothing ever happens. It’s just you, Captain. Just your paranoia.”

He stared at you, struggling to keep his composure, but you’d seen it. That flicker of doubt. That split second of hesitation. And you pounced on it.

“You’re getting tired, aren’t you?” you whispered. “Decades of service. Constant vigilance. Maybe it’s wearing you down. Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Price clenched his fists, feeling the tension coil in his muscles. He was tired, but his instincts had always been his guide. Yet you were so effortlessly making him doubt them.

“Or,” you continued, voice low and dripping with venomous sweetness, “maybe you’re right. Maybe I am up to something. But if that’s the case… what are you going to do about it?”

Price’s blood ran cold. You were challenging him, daring him to act, to confront you. And all the while, you wore that same damn smile, the one that made him feel like he was the one losing control.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming as you stepped around the desk, slowly closing the distance between him and you. “You really do think I’m up to something, don’t you?”

Price leaned back slightly, his breath shallow, but he stayed rooted to his chair. You were close now, too close. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the metallic tang of his anxiety.

Without a word, you reached out, your fingers grazing lightly over his shoulder. Price stiffened, the warmth of your touch sending a shock through his system. You leaned in, your breath brushing against his neck, and whispered, “You look tired, Captain.”

He wanted to move, to shake you off, but his body betrayed him. The exhaustion weighed down his limbs, and before he could stop you, your hands were kneading gently into the knots in his shoulders.

“Carrying the weight of the world, aren’t you?” you cooed softly, fingers working into the tension, the pressure just enough to make him falter. “Must be exhausting. No wonder you’re starting to see things… imagining things.”

Price gritted his teeth, fighting against the wave of fatigue that was crashing over him, but your touch was so… disarming. Slowly, without realizing it, he found himself relaxing under your hands, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. You felt it too—the way his resistance was crumbling, brick by brick.

“That’s it, Captain,” you murmured, your voice laced with false concern as your hands worked lower, pressing into the tight muscles of his back. “You’ve been doing this for so long. Decades of service. Always on edge. Always watching. Don’t you ever just… let go?”

Price’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he forced them open again, fighting to keep control, but the words wouldn’t come. You’d stepped even closer now, leaning against his desk, nearly perched in his lap, your breath warm against his ear.

“I can help, you know,” you whispered, your lips so close they brushed against his skin. “Take some of that weight off your shoulders.”

Price swallowed hard, the tension in the air palpable. He knew what you were doing, knew this was just another layer of your manipulation, but his body wasn’t responding the way he wanted it to. His arms felt heavy, his breathing shallow. Your hands, now on his neck, massaged with an expert’s precision, coaxing him into compliance.

“I’ve been around, Captain,” you continued, your voice soft, hypnotic. “Berlin. Cairo. So many places where they thought like you—always suspicious, always looking for something that wasn’t there. And do you know what happened?”

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing the edge of his jaw, your breath sending shivers down his spine.

“Nothing.”

The word hung in the air, and Price’s head swam, caught between the fog of exhaustion and the insidiousness of your touch.

“I’m not the problem, Captain,” you whispered, your hand tracing down his chest, fingers curling ever so slightly against the fabric of his shirt. “You are. You’ve been at this too long. You don’t know when to stop. When to trust.”

Price clenched his fists at his sides, willing his body to move, to push you away, but he was trapped between his own fatigue and the intoxicating effect of your presence.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” you murmured, voice almost tender now. “I’m here because I think you’re special. Smart. Worthy of my attention. But you need to let go. Just a little. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting yourself.”

Your words wove their way into his mind, insidious and slow, planting seeds of doubt. His instincts, the ones that had kept him alive for so long, screamed at him to resist, to see through the haze you were creating. But his body was weak. His mind clouded. And you were so close, so warm, so soft.

Before he could speak, your fingers slid up to his jaw, gently turning his face to meet yours. The way you looked at him—predatory, with a flicker of something darker—made his breath hitch.

And in that moment, he realized just how far he’d fallen. How deep into your web he’d been pulled.

***

The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is rapturous. It’s been too long since he’s touched a woman like this. Years. Decades, maybe. Not since he was a recruit. Maybe not even then.

Your skin is so warm it sears him, like his fingertips are burning against molten caramel, soft and yielding. He bites along the curve of your inner thigh, and the sensation explodes in his mind, melting away whatever resistance he once had.

Electricity hums through him, short-circuiting the alarm bells that had been screaming in the back of his head for weeks. Blessed silence fills the space where doubt and suspicion had lived ever since he saw your dossier. He doesn’t understand you; he’s not sure anyone truly does— but this… this he understands.

Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, your pants are gone, discarded in the blur of heated moments. His head spins like he’s been drinking the strongest liquor, intoxicated, consumed by the heat between you. He’s drowning, but for the first time in weeks, he’s at peace with it.

How did he get here? You’d walked into his office barely twenty minutes ago, and now…

Now.

His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with a roughness that makes him groan. The sight of you, glistening, dripping… it’s almost too much.

“Fuck,” the word rumbles from his throat, thick and heavy, like a storm rolling in on a sweltering summer night. His body feels like it’s been set on fire, his blood ignited, burning like the tips of his cigars.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing along your slick folds. The sensation beneath his touch is almost overwhelming— sticky, wet, and so incredibly wanting.

“Fuck,” he murmurs again, the word dragging from his lips as his mouth waters. He can’t stop himself, not anymore. He leans forward, driven by instinct, by a deep seated need to taste you, to devour you.

The taste of your cunt floods his senses, richer than any wine, sweeter than any ambrosia. It’s forbidden, like a taste of something divine, and as his eyes roll back, he’s lost in you.

His hands grip tighter, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if anchoring himself to the moment. The world tilts, his mind spinning as he presses his mouth deeper, dragging his tongue through your wetness. The heat of you, the taste—it’s all-consuming.

The low hum of his growl vibrates against your core, sending a ripple through you that makes you shudder. Every fiber of his being is alive, sparking, like he’s teetering on the edge of something cataclysmic. His control, usually so ironclad, is slipping with every pulse of your body beneath his.

You moan, soft but sharp, and it ignites something primal in him. He grips harder, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth, losing himself in the taste of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on, and he obliges without thought, driven by a need that eclipses every other instinct.

His mind is quiet. Blissfully, achingly quiet. No questions, no doubts. Just this—your warmth, your scent, your taste. His world narrows to this moment, this singular point of contact where you meet him, where everything else fades away.

He groans again, the sound muffled against you, and it vibrates through his chest like thunder. Every flick of his tongue feels like fire, every second stretching out into something timeless, endless. He’s lost, drowning, and he’s never felt so damn content in the suffocating pull of it all.

Price doesn’t remember how it started, doesn’t remember why it even began. All he knows now is that he’s here, with you, and the rest of the world is a distant blur, a forgotten consequence of this moment.

His mouth works against your cunt, slow but deliberate, every motion designed to unravel you further. Your gasps, your shudders—they fuel him.

His hands grip tighter, anchoring you in place, holding you still against his mouth. He’s seen your strength, knows how easily you could fight him off if you wanted. But you’re yielding beneath him, pliant in his grasp. Submissive in a way that twists something primal inside him.

He holds you firm, his mouth relentless, dragging you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue. His lips press against your clit, a reverent kiss, sucking gently but with purpose, driving you mad with sensation.

“Price—oh, God,” you gasp, your voice ragged, hands clutching his hair, tugging, pulling. But you don’t push him away. You pull him closer, pushing yourself deeper into his mouth as he coaxes you to the brink.

Your body trembles, thighs shaking, and he knows you’re close. He can feel it in the way your muscles tighten, hear it in the way your breath hitches. And then you’re coming undone, keening above him as your orgasm crashes over you.

Price watches, captivated, as you fall apart. It’s a revelation, the sight of you trembling, unraveling beneath his touch, the taste of you flooding his senses. He drinks it in, savoring every drop, letting it fill him, consume him. There’s something intoxicating in it, a sweetness that lingers, turning his thoughts to static.

He pulls back when he’s had his fill, sitting up, licking his lips as though he’s just finished a feast. The sight of you, dazed, eyes half-lidded, makes something feral stir in his chest.

You slither into his lap, and despite the warning bells starting back up in the back of his mind—viper, viper, viper—he lets you. He can’t resist, not when you fit so perfectly against him, not when your warmth seeps into his skin like a drug.

His belt clinks as his pants fall open, and you smirk, that maddening, teasing smirk, the one that makes him want to either kiss you or strangle you. “That looks painful.”

His cock is painfully hard, the tip flushed, leaking, staining his boxers. Veins bulge along the length, and he’s never felt so desperate, so needy. “Because of you,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Your smile widens, something wicked and knowing behind it, like you’re a siren luring him deeper into your trap. (Siren. Succubus. Lamia. Jorogumo. Nymphs. You.) “Want me to take care of it, Captain?”

You roll your hips, your slick folds sliding over him, making him jerk up involuntarily. His breath catches, and he nods, unable to form words, his need too great. “Please,” he rasps.

You coo softly, mocking him with your sweetness, teasing him with your control. But then you line yourself up, sinking down slowly, torturously, and he can’t stop the groan that rumbles from his chest.

His head falls back, body arching as the heat of you envelops him, tight and wet and perfect. It feels like coming home, and for a moment, he doesn’t care about the alarms in his head, doesn’t care about the danger you represent. He just needs this—needs you.

You’re not human—maybe you never were. A demon wrapped in the skin of an angel, something sweet and deadly. Sugar and spice for the righteous, poison for the wicked. Karma, incarnate. It’s no wonder Price can’t figure you out, can’t unravel the threads that make you. You’re his punishment, his purgatory, for all the blood on his hands. His salvation, his reward for all the lives he’s saved.

Not quite heaven, not quite hell.

But a taste of both.

He groans as you take him deeper, his mind slipping, thoughts unraveling with every inch of you that sinks down. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, desperate to ground himself, but the way you move—slow, deliberate—makes him feel like he’s losing a part of himself with each second.

The tight, wet heat of you is everything he didn’t know he craved. It’s too much, yet not enough. His vision blurs as you rock against him, your body molding to his, every roll of your hips a deliberate push closer to the edge. You’re in control, and he’s too far gone to even pretend otherwise.

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice strained. He can’t hold on much longer, can’t stop the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter inside him. “You—”

You smirk, that wicked smile playing on your lips as you lean forward, your breath ghosting over his ear. “What’s wrong, Captain? Can’t handle a little pressure?”

Your voice, soft and sweet, twists something inside him, tightening the knot of pleasure and frustration until it’s unbearable. He’s never felt this out of control, never let anyone take the reins like this. But with you, it’s different. You’ve slithered into his mind, into his body, like a drug, and now he’s addicted.

“I can handle you,” he growls, hands flexing against your skin. But even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie. You’ve got him, mind and body, and you know it.

You hum softly, running a hand through his hair, tugging lightly, making him groan again. “We’ll see about that, Captain.”

The way you say it, so sure of yourself, so calm, sends a shiver down his spine. You’re toying with him, just like you’ve been doing since you arrived. But now, he’s not sure if he cares. Not when you feel this good.

And that’s the danger, isn’t it? The way you make him want to let go, to stop thinking, to stop questioning. The way you turn his paranoia into a dull hum, background noise compared to the pleasure of you wrapped around him.

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his jaw, your breath warm against his skin. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll take good care of you.”

His breath stutters, fingers tightening on your hips as you start to move again, slow and deliberate, dragging out every second, every sensation, until he feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

The tension inside of him is unbearable, the coil of pleasure so tight it’s threatening to snap. Your hips roll against his, slow, deliberate. Each movement sends shockwaves of sensation through him. His breath is ragged, his control unraveling by the second, catching in his throat at the pressure inside of him builds.

Every part of him is on fire, and he’s teetering on the edge, so close, too close.

“God— fuck,” he groans. Half bitten off words is all he can manage, a guttural rasp as his head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut. You grind down harder, nails dragging across his chest, drawing out the sound again, like you’re pulling his soul from his body.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Captain?” Your voice is a soft purr, a taunting whisper against his ear.

He can’t answer, can’t even think beyond the need to chase his release. Every nerve in his body is lit up and burning with desire. All he knows is that he’s teetering on the brink, and you’re the one holding him there, savoring every second before you let him fall.

Then, with a flick of your hips and a roll of your body, he’s gone. Exploding into pleasure so intense it leaves him gasping, his grip on you tightening as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality. He’s lost in the sensation of it, his mind blank, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of you, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. His orgasm crashes over him like a wave, drowning him in sensations, and for a long moment, everything fades— every thought, every suspicion, every doubt. There’s only you.

You watch him fall apart beneath you, a satisfied smile curving your lips as you ride out his release before stilling in his lap.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing, the feeling of you still wrapped around him, tight and warm, your body molded to his like you were made for him. His head is spinning, mind foggy, but for the first time in weeks, he feels calm. The constant hum of paranoia, the nagging suspicion, all of it fades into the background, drowned out by the euphora still coursing through him.

His body relaxes beneath yours, muscles going slack as exhaustion takes over after weeks and weeks of very little sleep, and when you finally slip off his lap, he barely registers the loss. His mind, dulled and heavy, floats in the remnants of pleasure. Aware only enough to adjust his softened cock back in his pants with trembling fingers, before his hand falls to the side.

He feels your lips against his temple, something sweet and chaste and not at all like you, humming in his ear with that sultry purr of yours. “Sweet dreams. Goodbye Captain.”

He hums in a reply, too far gone in his post orgasm exhaustion to form words. His mind, dulled and heavy, floats in the remnants of pleasure, blissfully unaware.

He hears you slip out quietly, leaving him slumped over his desk in the dim light of his office, door closing softly behind you. For a moment, the world is silent, and Price drifts into sleep, still half dressed, lost in the afterglow.

***

The next morning, Price wakes up to the harsh sunlight filtering through his blinds, the dull ache of his body reminding him of last night’s encounter. He stretches, feeling the tension in his muscles, and his mind starts to replay fragments of the night before. But as he blinks awake, something feels… off.

Something stirs in his chest. A sinking feeling, like a weight dropping in his gut. He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face, the disquiet creeping in around the edges of his consciousness.

Price frowns, pushing the chair back and standing, a strange sense of urgency crawling under his skin. He grabs his jacket, heads for the door, and steps out into the hallway, his footsteps heavy with the weight of something unnamed.

The hallway feels different this morning—quieter. There’s a strange hush over the base, a weight pressing down on everyone that Price can feel deep in his bones. His instincts scream at him that something’s wrong. He moves briskly, trying to shake off the gnawing sense of unease as he makes his way through the building. The recruits he passes look subdued, heads down, expressions uncharacteristically grim. Even Soap, who’s usually animated in the mornings, sits off to the side in the mess hall, arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown etched into his face.

Price’s gut tightens.

He slows his pace as he approaches, his eyes narrowing at Soap’s slouched posture and the way the men seem more reserved, more… off. Something’s happened. The air feels heavier.

“Soap,” Price calls out, voice gravelly, but not quite as sharp as usual. He’s already beginning to piece things together, though he doesn’t like where the thoughts are leading.

Soap glances up, and for a moment, the younger man looks like he’s on the verge of saying something, something biting, maybe, or sarcastic, but instead, he just shakes his head, lips pressed tight in a line. “She’s gone, Cap.”

Price blinks, his chest tightening as the words register. Gone? His mind scrambles to process it, but there’s a distinct lack of clarity. He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm as he approaches Soap’s table, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “Gone?” he asks slowly, though he already knows the answer. “What do you mean, gone?”

“She left early this morning. Ghost saw her off. Said she was chasing another contract,” Soap mutters, the disappointment clear in his tone. He doesn’t look at Price, just keeps staring at his half-eaten tray of food like he’s trying to make sense of something himself.

Price’s blood runs cold. Left. Another contract.

The events of the night before crash over him like a wave, the warmth of your skin against his, your whispered words, the way you’d coiled around him like a serpent, squeezing, suffocating. Goodbye, Captain.

Not goodnight—goodbye.

His heart stutters. You’re gone. And he let you slip away, not realizing that you were never planning to stay. That sinking feeling from earlier becomes a weight in his chest, pulling him down, down into the realization that he’s been played. He let his guard down, let himself get pulled into your orbit, and now… now it’s too late.

Price spins on his heel, already searching for Ghost. He finds him not far off, standing by the exit like a statue, arms crossed, eyes hidden beneath his mask.

“Ghost.” Price’s voice is hard, commanding. “Tell me what happened.”

Ghost gives him a brief look, unreadable as always beneath the mask, but something about his posture tells Price that he’s aware of how bad this looks. “She left around 0500,” Ghost says, voice flat. “Said she had another contract lined up. No fanfare. Just… left.”

No fanfare. Just like that. Price feels the bottom of his stomach drop.

He should’ve known. You’d been toying with him, leading him down a path he should’ve seen coming from miles away. You’d gotten into his head, played him like a fiddle, and now you were gone.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s lost whatever game you were playing, and the worst part is, he doesn’t even know what the stakes were. He doesn’t know why you played the game, only that you won. You took what you wanted from him, left him reeling, and now… now he’s standing here, empty-handed, with nothing to show for it but this gnawing sense of failure.

Ghost shifts his weight slightly, glancing at Price as if waiting for a response. But what is there to say? The infamous Captain Price had been outplayed, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it now.

“Dammit,” Price mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He feels the weight of exhaustion settle over him, heavier than before. He wants to be angry, to shout, to curse your name for what you’ve done. But all he can feel is that deep, gnawing sense of loss, like he’s let something vital slip through his fingers.

The base feels emptier without you.

***

Seven months later, the world had moved on, but Price hadn’t.

He tried to bury it; your games, the night you left, the way you’d gotten into his head and twisted everything around him. But the ghost of your presence lingered, always just beneath the surface. He told himself it didn’t matter, that they’d never cross paths again, that you were just a fleeting memory in a long line of battles fought and lost.

Until today.

The mission had been straightforward, at least on paper. 141 had been tasked with securing a high-value target in a remote compound somewhere in the Balkans, a dangerous op that left little room for error. They’d expected resistance, expected threats from the usual suspects— mercs, rival PMCs, all of the scum that rise to the surface during geopolitica conflict. But what they hadn’t expected was you, leaning against the wall with that infuriating, knowing smirk. Casual, like you’d been expecting them. Like this was all some elaborate setup for a reunion you’d orchestrated.

“Well, well, well.” Your voice cut through the silence, playful and dripping with amusement. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Price’s blood ran cold. His grip on his rifle tightened, every muscle in his body tensing at the sight of you. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were flanking him, their expressions unreadable, but Price could feel the tension rolling off them in waves. No one said a word.

You tilted your head, watching them like a cat watches a cornered mouse. “This is starting to feel like one of those Facebook posts,” you mused, laughter lacing your tone. “You know the ones—‘What would you do if you ended up in a room with everyone you’ve ever had sex with?’” Your eyes slid lazily over them, glinting with amusement as you watch their reactions. Soap stiffens, turning a shade darker. Gaz shifts awkwardly. Ghost remains as still as ever, but everyone can see the tension vibrating through him. (Price knew about Soap, but he feels dread crawl up his spine when he realizes Gaz and Ghost fell for you’re games too) “Guess we’re about to find out.”

“Shut up,” Price growled, voice low, dangerous. But you just laughed, pushing off the wall and sauntering forward, not an ounce of fear in your eyes.

“Temper, temper, Captain,” you tutted, waving a finger at him. “You’re not still upset about our little game, are you? I told you goodbye, didn’t I?”

Price’s hands flexed around his weapon, his mind racing as he struggled to stay composed. He wanted answers—he needed answers. And this time, he wasn’t going to let you slip away without giving them.

“You played us,” he said, voice tight, barely controlled. “You got inside our heads. Why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smile that was all teeth. “Why?” you echoed, feigning innocence. “Because I was bored, Captain. You lot were supposed to be the best, the infamous 141. Special operators, men who could match me, maybe even outsmart me.” You paused, eyes gleaming with amusement as you scanned the group. “But you didn’t, did you? Not a single one of you. Men are all the same, no matter how many wars they’ve fought.”

“Bored?” Soap’s voice cracked through the tension, sharp and disbelieving. “You messed with us because you were bored?”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m the smartest person in the room, in any room. I’m not just saying that to brag. I was tested and my IQ’s through the roof. I’m a WAIS-certified genius with an Mensa membership. A prodigy if you will.” You tap the side of your head with the muzzle of your gun, flashing them a knowing grin. “You have to understand, that gets tedious after a while. I need something stimulating. You lot, you were supposed to be different. I thought you might actually pose a challenge.”

Price’s stomach churned at your words, bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to believe it—that it had all been some sick game, that you’d toyed with them, used them, used him just to stave off your boredom.

“Turns out,” you continued, sighing dramatically, “you’re just like everyone else. Predictable. Boring. Disappointing. Men get angry, men get frustrated, men think with their cocks more than their brains, and they don’t stop to think. I even warned you in my dossier, didn’t I? ‘Psychological warfare’s my preferred method’, and yet none of you caught on. So really, you’ve only got yourselves to blame.”

Price’s vision tunneled, his pulse pounding in his ears. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and for the first time in months, he felt the overwhelming need to wipe that smug look off your face.

“You’re a piece of work,” Ghost muttered, voice low and rough. He hadn’t moved from his position, but Price could feel the weight of his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

You flashed Ghost a grin, unaffected. “I warned you, didn’t I? If you couldn’t see it coming, that’s on you.”

“You think this is some kind of joke?” Price’s voice was dangerously low, fury barely contained. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe how easily you were dismissing everything that had happened.

But you weren’t phased, not in the slightest. You took a step closer, your eyes glittering with amusement. “I think it’s hilarious, Captain. You were all so certain you could figure me out, so sure that you’d stay one step ahead. But I was always ahead, from the very start.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and Price’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to lash out, to scream at you, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. You’d already won, and you both knew it. The game was over, and all that was left was the bitter taste of defeat.

Soap growls, taking a step forward, but Price raises a hand to stop him. His mind races. Every interaction, every word, every glance you’d shared over those months— it had all been apart of your game. And now, standing here, knowing you’d gotten what you’d wanted from them, Price feels the bitter weight of defeat settling in once more.

“What now?” he asks, his voice low, almost resigned.

You tilt your head, considering the question for a moment. “Now? Now we play a different game. I’ve been hired to stop you and the 141, so—“ the gun in your hand cocks and you smirk, that same maddening smirk that drove him insane. He tenses, the lead in his stomach drops.

“Ready for round two, Captain?”

[scarletqueenx]

chapter ten - mystery spot

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean and you had dated for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for. You.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

You and Dean had not yet talked about what had happened between the two of you. It seemed stupid to define your relationship when Dean barely had a few months left to live. Still, it was quite evident that something had changed between you. And that night had just been another example of it.

In the middle of the night, after another nightmare, you had half-asleep walked over to Dean's bed and laid down beside him seeking comfort and safety. He wrapped his hand around your waist to hug you against his body as you placed a leg between his. A gesture Dean used to hate when you dated, but now it had become one of his favorite things about sharing a bed with you.

Heat of the moment

The song playing on the radio woke Sam and you that morning. His eyes widening as you shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed sitting on the edge of the bed you were sleeping to tie his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

"Dude." Sam grunted, looking at the radio. "Asia?"

"Come on. You love this song and you know it." Dean looked back at him.

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."

Not listening to him, Dean turned up the volume.

"What? Sorry, couldn't hear you."

Sam chuckled as you grunted against the pillow, trying to cover your ears with it.

It was the heat of the moment

Dean started bopping along, as he lay on top of you, leaving kisses on your shoulders while seeking to pull the pillow away from your face. Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Stop it." You groaned, turning around between Dean's arms. Your half-asleep eyes meeting his as a smile peeked over his lips.

Heat of the moment Heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you right then and there. As you lay on what was his bed, looking up at him with your face half asleep and your messy hair spread across the pillow. But Sam's throat clearing brought him out of his thoughts, forcing him to break away to let you prepare to leave the room.

"Whenever you're ready, Dean." Sam said a couple of minutes later when Dean was finishing cleaning his teeth.

Coming out of the bathroom Dean walked over to his bag and pulled out a black bra.

"This yours?" He turned to you with a smirk. You looked at him unamused, finishing tying your shoes and grabbing your jacket from the back of a chair. Letting out a laugh, Dean put what was in fact one of your bras back in his bag before pulling out his gun. "Bingo."

"Can we go?" You asked. "I'm starving."

Dean nodded, walking pass Sam and you and out of the motel room. After deciding on a small diner, the three of you entered the place.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." Said the waitress behind the bar, which make you look at her, seeing a man sitting there.

"Some coffee." Cal answered, passing her some change.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day. You frowned as you sat next him in the booth he had chosen.

"You even know what that is?" You asked. Dean turned to you, shrugging.

The waitress from behind the bar walked towards you, allowing you to read the name on her name tag. Doris.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Make it two coffees and a short stack." Sam added.

"Yeah, I'll have the same as him." You smiled at the waitress.

"You got it." She nodded, writing it down before leaving the table.

"You both are boring." Dean said, turning back to look at Sam and you.

"Why? Because we don't eat as much as you do?" You asked with confusion. "Sorry, I have the stomach of a regular person."

"Whatever." He sighed, fixing his gaze on his brother. "I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela."

"Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?"

"I still can't believe you let her steal the Colt." You commented.

"Shut up." Dean grumbled. "And we didn't let her."

"At least we still have my knife." You pointed out. "Thanks, mom."

"Yeah, thank you mom for being a witch." He muttered.

"Hey, that witch saved mine and my brother's life. And she never hurt anyone." You gave him an annoyed look.

"You don't know that."

"She was my mother, Dean." She reminded him. "It's not my fault that every witch you've ever encountered turned out to be an evil bitch. You hate them, great. Burn, witches, burn. But leave my mother out of it."

Letting out a sigh, Dean looked back at you with regret. But before he could say anything, Sam interrupted him.

"Look. Believe me, I want to find Bella as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this." Sam said, pulling out some papers from his jacket.

"All right, so this professor." Dean sighed, looking at the papers and reading the headline on them: MISSING - DEXTER HASSELBACK LAST SEEN IN BROWARD, FLORIDA.

"Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished." Sam explained.

"Last known location?" You asked, looking at the papers over Dean's shoulder.

"His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot." Sam answered, sliding a flyer over the table. Taking it in your hands, you took a look at it.

"Where the laws of physics have no meaning." You read aloud, showing the flyer to Dean. Sam shrugged, not knowing exactly what that meant.

Just at that moment Doris came back to the table with a tray of food and three coffees. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Three coffees, and some hot sauce for the-" She said but was quickly interrupted when the bottle of hot sauce fell off the tray and smashed on the floor. "Crap! Sorry." She apologized, turning to look back. "Cleanup!"

After finishing their food the three of you left the diner, walking past a dog that barked in your direction, but quickly quieted when you petted his head and gave him a smile. Dean snatched the Mystery Spot flyer from his brother's hands and looked at it once again with a scowl on his face.

"Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet." He said.

"Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex-"

"Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean cut him off.

"Well sometimes these places are legit."

"All right, so if it is legit, and that's a big-ass if, what's the lore?" Dean asked, letting out a sigh.

You ran to catch up with them. And just as you started to walk beside Dean a blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder, quickly apologizing without barely looking at you.

"Excuse me."

The woman's touch sent a shiver down your spine, bringing with it a sense of unease and a faint sense of impending danger. It was as if someone was trying to whisper a warning into your ear. It was only a whisper, but it was enough to send a jolt of anxiety through your body.

"The lore's pretty frigging nuts, actually." Sam words brought you back to reality. "They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where."

"Sounds a little X-Files to me." Dean said as you passed two movers with desk that was clearly never going to fit in the door they were trying to get it through.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"All right, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something." Sam said as you continued walking, not paying much attention to the movers.

"I think Sam is right." You spoke. "It's worth a look."

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look." Dean finally accepted.

The best time to go to a place like that was at night, where there were no tourists visiting around. Night also meant the need for flashlights, which was why you found yourself aiming your flashlight at the front lock so Dean could pick it. When the door opened, you handed another flashlight to him before stepping inside.

The hallway was illuminated by a neon green light with a black double spiral painted on the walls and door. The last one to enter, Sam, closed the door behind before following Dean and you up the hallway with the EMF reader in his hand.

"Wow. Uncanny." Dean said in a sarcastic tone as he shined the flashlight around and up onto a table, lamp, and ashtray attached upside-down to the ceiling.

Still with that uneasy feeling in your body, you looked to Sam in search of answers.

"Find anything?" You asked.

"No." He answered. You sighed.

"You have any idea what you're looking for?"

"Uh... yeah." Sam looked up at you as you raised your eyebrows skeptically. "No."

Shaking your head, you shared a quick look with Dean as you both shine the flashlights around other parts of the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A forth and unknown voice asked you. Turning around, you encounter an older man, probably the owner of the place, holding a gun aimed at the three of you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. We can explain." Dean said as he watched the man pointing his gun towards you.

"You robbing me?"

"Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down." You tried to stay calm as you took a step forward but the owner wasn't happy with that as he cocked the gun causing you to freeze in place.

"Don't move!"

"Alright. Alright. I won't move."

"Just putting the gun down." Dean said. What happened next was very quick. The owner moved his gun, aiming it at him and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Dean in the chest, knocking him to the ground from the impact as blood came out of his mouth.

"Oh, God. Dean." You fell to your knees beside him, one hand covering your mouth as you let out a gasp. Sam soon came to your side, crouching down on the other side of his brother as Dean struggled to breathe. Holding tears in your eyes, you lifted your eyes up to the owner. Your gaze becoming much colder as you gripped the handle of the gun attached to your belt. "What the hell have you done?"

"I didn't mean-"

"Hey." Sam exclaimed. "Call 911!"

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Now!"

Taking one last look at you, the owner nodded before leaving the room.

You returned to your knees next to Dean, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks at the state he was in. "Hey, Dean. Dean, stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes. You have to-"

Suddenly Dean stopped breathing, his chest freezing from the lack of air in his lungs.

"No. It wasn't suppose to be like this." Sam whispered as he look at his brother.

"Dean." Your voice cracked.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment

Yours and Sam's eyes snapped open by the sound of the radio. You shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body as you remembered what had happened the previous day. Dean was dead.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" The sound of his voice made you frown in confusion as you turned your body. "You too, sweetheart." Dean placed a hand on your bare leg, sending a shiver down your body.

Confused, you lifted your body up on your elbows to look to the bed where Sam lay. Seeming just as confused as you were, Sam shared a quick look with you before directing his eyes towards the clock radio.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

"Dude. Asia." Dean smile, lacing up his boots.

"Dean..." Sam tried to speak.

"Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it." Dean said, turning up the volume and bopping his head to the beat of the song. It was exactly like the first time it happened.

As he began to sing, Dean walked to the bathroom, leaving Sam and you completely speechless.

"What...?" Unable to articulate the question that was on the tip of your tongue, you turned your stunned gaze to Sam. "He was dead."

"I know." He nodded.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a dream or..."

"Or?" You raised your eyebrows.

"I don't know. I know the same things you do." Sam assured you with frustration.

"We couldn't have had the same dream. Couldn't we?" You asked.

"Don't you have witch's blood?"

"But I destroyed the book, the powers are gone."

"Are they?" Sam got up from his bed, walking over to the one Dean and you had shared last night to sit next to you.

"Are you guys hungry?" Dean came out of the bathroom, looking at the scene before him with confusion. His eyes fixed especially on the anguished faces of both of you. "You two all right?"

"Yeah. Perfectly. Right, Sammy?" You tapped his shoulder lightly as you stood up. "Very hungry." You smiled at Dean as you walked past him into the bathroom.

Confusion grew in Sam and you as you watched things happen just as they had the day before. Not only Dean, but also the people in the diner.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner. After seeing him disappear behind the door, you turned to Sam not knowing what was happening.

Dean was completely oblivious as he walked past you and found a booth to sit in. The same booth as the day before. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Sam stared around, bewildered as he sat in front of you.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." You looked at the bar watching how Cal passed some change at Doris.

"Coffee." Cal answered.

It couldn't have been a dream. It was all happening the same exact way. Maybe Sam was right to blame your family history and it had all been caused by powers you didn't know how to control.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day.

"It's Tuesday?" You asked with confusion before looking at Sam who seemed as shocked.

"Yeah." Dean nodded as Doris walked towards your table.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Uh, nothing for me, thanks." Sam said when he noticed Doris eyes on him.

You cleared your throat before speaking. "Just coffee."

"Ok." She nodded looking back at Sam. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela." Sam and you paid little attention to Dean's words as your eyes followed Doris in confusion. Yet again, that shiver of unease shot through your body, a silent warning that something was wrong. Its presence been too strong this time for you ignore. "Hey." Dean snapped his fingers in front of your faces. "You two with me?"

"What?" Sam and you asked at the same time.

"You sure you feel okay?"

"You don't-you don't remember? Any of this?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"Remember what?" Dean frowned.

"This, Dean." You stated. "Today. Like it's-like it's... happened before?"

"You mean like déjà vu?"

"No, we mean like, like it's really happened before." Sam said.

"Yeah. Like déjà vu." Dean nodded.

"No, Dean, forget about déjà vu." You spoke in frustration. "I'm asking you if it feels like, like we're living yesterday all over again."

"Okay, how is that not dé-"

"Don't, don't say it!" Sam cut him off angrily. "Just don't even..."

Doris arrived with a tray food, two coffees and hot sauce. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Two coffees, and some hot sauce for the-oops! Crap!" Noticing how the bottle of hot sauce was going to fall off the tray, Sam reached out to catch it before it hit the floor. Doris gasped as Sam looked at the bottle in his hand in confusion before handing it back to her. "Thanks." She said before walking off.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said.

Oh, Sam and you were definitely doing crazy.

Not only were all those things happening the same way as the day before too much of a coincidence, Dean didn't seem to remember anything either. And if that wasn't enough, you were still feeling that unease feeling in your body. Something had been warning your about that place.

The dog barked as you walked out of the diner and pass him. You ooked at him but this time you didn't petted his head, you kept walking besides Dean.

"Dean, I really need you to listen to us, okay?" You insisted. "This day has happened before. Sam and I-"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Okay, look." Sam sighed. "Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too."

You nodded.

"Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced." Dean said sarcastically.

"So you don't believe us?!" Sam asked with frustration as the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away.

"Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy." Dean said. "Dingo ate my baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions."

"I'm sorry, what now?" You stopped on your tracks.

"It's... It's a long story."

"Oh, believe me, I have all the time in the world. Because if we're not crazy like you say, Sam and I will relive this day all over again." You stated before looking at Sam. "You're a psychic?"

"No, I- We should focus on this. We'll explain it to you." He assured ñ.

"Why do I have the feeling that I will regret this?" You watched them closely. "Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then-"

Seeing you stop talking, Dean looked at you with confusion.

"And then what?" He asked.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over to Sam. You didn't want to say it out loud.

"Then we woke up." Sam answered as you past the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it-" Sam stopped, looking at his brother and you.

"Maybe what?" Dean frowned.

"We gotta check that place out. Look, just-go with us on this, okay?"

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after close, get ourselves a nice long look."

Shaking you head, you froze in place, placing a hand in front of Dean to stop him from walking any further.

"No. We are not going there."

"Why not?" Dean looked at you with confusion.

"Uhh... You know what? Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded." You nervously suggested.

"My God, you're a freak." Dean muttered.

"Dean..."

"Okay! Whatever. We'll go now." He assured walking ahead of them and into the street.

Just like the shot the day before, the next thing that happened went by very quickly. A car appeared practically out of nowhere on Dean's left side, hitting him as he was crossing the street.

"Dean!" Sam and you rushed to him, kneeling by his side.

"Dean, no, no, no." Sam cried, his voice filled with anguish. "Come on! Dean."

"What the hell have you done?!" You rose back up, confronting the driver as Dean took his last breath.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You were starting to get sick of that song. Even with the theory that you would relive that day once again, you didn't expect to see Dean die another time. Frustrated and exhausted, Sam and you grunted against their pillows.

"You guys sure are grumpy this morning." Dean commented, sitting down on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. "Come on. Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sitting up in his bed, Sam looked around the room.

"You too, sweetheart." Dean turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

Turning over slowly, you shared a glance with Sam before rising to your feet and walking toward the bathroom. Your steps steady and full of frustration. Noticing that, Dean frowned, glancing over at his brother.

"What's wrong with her?" He asked. Sam shrugged, letting out a sigh.

The morning started the same way as the two previous days. You followed your same steps and met the same people until you reached the diner. Although, this time, Sam and you tried to be quicker in explaining to Dean what was going on.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

"Okay, would you listen to us, Dean?" You asked with exasperation. "'Cause we are flipping out."

"Are you folks ready?" Doris asked as she came to your booth.

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks." Sam quickly replied without bothering to look at her.

Taken aback by his quick response, Doris wrote down the order in her pad before looking at you, once again seated next to Dean.

"Nothing." You answered.

"Okay. You got it." She nodded, leaving your side.

"Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that." Dean said with a teasing smile.

"Quit screwing around, Dean." Sam grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Okay. I'm listening." Dean sighed. "So, so–you think that you're in some kind of a what again?"

"Time loop." You answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day." Sam exclaimed.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, even though it was clear for you that he didn't believe a single one of your words.

"You seriously don't believe us?" You looked at him in disbelief. "Demons are real, vampires, ghosts, werewolves and witches. Without going any further, I have witch blood and your brother is a psychic, but you still don't believe us."

"Wait. How do you know about Sammy?"

"Because you told me yesterday. Which was also Tuesday."

"Okay, I'm just saying that it's a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh..."

"Dingo ate my baby crazy?" Sam asked.

"How'd you know I was going to say that?" He frowned.

"Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point."

Letting out a sigh, you looked up, finding Doris approaching your table again with the tray full of food and a coffee.

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap." Doris said as the bottles of hot sauce fall of the tray. Without even looking at it, Sam reached his hand and caught it before it hit the floor, handing it back to Doris. "Thanks." She looked at him impressed, leaving the bottle on the table before leaving.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said, just as impressed as Doris.

"No. I knew it was going to happen."

"Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation..."

"You're just going to have to go with us on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much!" You snapped.

"Wait, what-what are you talking about?" Dean turned, looking at you with a mixture of shock and complete confusion.

"You left me in a motel room, remember?"

"I thought we were past that."

"Yeah, but you still owe me this." You assured. Your voice firm and determined.

"Calm down..."

"Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because—" You stopped talking, not being able to finish the phrase. Sam noticed that, feeling himself almost as unable as you were to put it into words.

"Because what?" Dean asked.

"Because you die, today, Dean." Sam and you answered at the same time.

Taken aback, Dean watched the two of you in silence for a couple of seconds. "I'm not gonna die. Not today."

"Dean, we've watched you die twice now." Sam said. "And I can't—I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe us. Please."

Seeing the overwhelmed look on his brother's face Dean nodded. "All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

As Dean returned his focus to his plate of food, you brought your hand to her necklace, clinging to it as if it could do something to help you. Unconsciously you hoped your mother would do so from the afterlife. Sam turned to you, looking at you with sympathy. Dean was his brother, it was obvious that seeing him die would affect him, but he could also see how it was affecting you. The sparkle in your eyes that had appeared after getting back on the road with them was now gone. And your gaze once again had that lifelessness and hopelessness look with which they had found you the night Ophelia had attacked your home.

The dog barked at you once again as you exited the diner, and the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away without even looking.

Seconds after, you passed the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

You looked back at them, fixing your gaze in the desk they were trying to fit in the door. Good luck, you thought, as it was clear to you that the desk wasn't going to get through that door.

"And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?" Dean's question brought you out of your thoughts.

"Maybe it's the real deal, you know?" Sam said. "The, the magnetic fields bending spacetime or whatever."

"I don't know, it all seems a little too 'X-Files' for me."

"Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!"

"All right! All right. We'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

"No, no, no, we can't." You were quick to answered.

"Why not?" Dean frowned as he looked back at you.

"Because you..."

"I what?" You stayed silence, which was enough answer to him. "I die there?"

"Blown away, actually." Sam explained.

"Huh. Okay, let's go now." Dean stated, walking ahead. You rushed after him, grabbing him before he ran into the street.

"Stay out of the way!" Mr. Pickett exclaimed, driving past them with his car.

Staring after the car, Dean started laughing until his eyes caught yours and Sam's faces.

"Wait, did he...?"

"Yesterday. Yeah." Sam nodded.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?" He asked, which made you roll your eyes.

"You peed yourself." Sam answered, irritated with him.

Dean shifted, uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!" He exclaimed, carefully looking to both ways before crossing the street.

Sam and you couldn't help but share an exasperated look. Maybe if the one dying was one of your two the situation would be easier. But Dean was hard to handle and too stubborn to listen.

Although, maybe, you weren't ones to talk, as you also weren't approaching the situation in the most cold and analytical way possible. An example of that was how Sam had snapped at the owner of Mystery Spot by asking him a few questions about the place while posing as a journalist. The man had been the one who had killed Dean in the first place, which had triggered all the recent events. Not to mention that what had led you to that town was the place he owned, where a man had disappeared without explanation.

"Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought—it's full of crap." Dean said, exiting the place.

"Then what is it, Dean, what the hell is happening to us?" Sam asked, desperate for an answer.

"I don't know. All right, let me just–So, every day I die?" Dean asked. Sam and you nodded. "And that's when you wake up again, right?"

"Yea, that's exactly what happens." You sighed.

"So let's just make sure I don't die. If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

"You think?" Sam looked at him with hope in his eyes.

"It's worth a shot." Dean shrugged. "I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight."

Sam and you nodded, both anxious, shaky, but mostly hopeful. Hopeful that maybe all of this madness will come to an end.

"All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" Dean smiled at you before he started walking again.

Just two steps. Two steps was what he had walked before a desk fell over him, smashing him to yet another death. A gasp escaped your mouth as you looked up the building. The two movers you had passed by that morning after breakfast stared at the scene form the window as they held the other end of the snapped rope.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

This time Sam and you had decided to explain everything to Dean on the way to the diner, with the hopes that maybe you'll win some time to finally fix whatever was happening.

"I still think you're nuts, but... whatever this is, we'll figure it out." Dean said as you sat in the diner.

"Thanks." Sam sighed.

"So, uh... If you two are stuck in 'Groundhog Day', why? What's behind it?" He asked.

"Well, first we thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now we're not so sure." You explained.

"What do we do?"

"Well, we keep you breathing. Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing we can think of."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, right." Sam scoffed. "Dean, we've watched you die a few times now and we can't ever seem to stop it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?" He asked, looking back at you, as you were once again sitting by his side.

"Yeah. Pig in a poke, side of bacon." You answered.

With a small nod, Dean turned to Doris, who was standing by the window to the kitchen, talking with the cook.

"'Scuse me, sweetheart?" He asked and she turned around to look at Dean. "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?"

"Sure thing, hon." She said before turning back around to tell the cook.

Dean smiled, looking back at his brother. "See? Different day already. You see, if you and I decide that I am not gonna die – I'm not gonna die."

"Really hope you're right." You whispered, but he seem to hear you as his gaze traveled back to you with a confused look in his eyes. The look of distress on your face was breaking his heart a little. If he had to watch you die day after day he would go completely insane.

Doris walked over to their table and set down Dean's food before walking away.

"Thank you." Dean said to her and stabbed a sausage link with his fork. He bit into it and smile as he chewed. Sam smiled at that, and you were about to do the same, but as soon as you started to hear Dean fighting for air, that smile faded. You turned to him as he started to choke and hit his back but that didn't seem to work.

"Dean!" You exclaimed desperately, while still trying to help him breathe by hitting his back.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You opened your eyes once again, groaning against your pillow. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

You had lost count of how many times you had heard that song when you woke up. Every day was exactly the same, with little changes caused by Sam and your desperation to end the loop. Each day ended the same way too, with Dean dead. Slipping in the shower, eating a bad taco, the deaths were getting more and more absurd, but he always came back the next morning, breaking your heart even more.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier at the diner said to the man as he gave him some change.

You ignored him as he passed by, but Sam bumped into him deliberately so he could take his car keys before the man could get into his vehicle and run over Dean once again when the three of you left the diner.

Sitting back down in the same booth, you sighed, looking at the man sitting at the counter with a pancakes plate and maple syrup. You had noticed him before, but with each passing day you felt a little more drawn to him. There was something off about him, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it yet.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

Sam sighed, laying a set of keys on the table. Dean frowned, looking at the them and then at him.

"What are those?" Dean asked.

"The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel." Sam answered without any more explanations.

"You folks ready?" Doris asked as she approached your table.

"Uh, yes, we are. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean answered her as he gave her a smile.

"Hey, Doris?" You asked, making her look at you. "What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."

"How'd you know that?" She asked in surprise. You shrugged.

"Lucky guess."

The woman didn't quite know how to respond to that, and the small, emotionless smile on your lips sent a shiver down her spine.

"I think you scared her off." Dean commented as he watched the waitress walk away from the table. "Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?"

"Time loop." Sam answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it." You replied.

"Jeez, aren't you two grumpy."

"Yeah, we are. You wanna know why? Because this is the hundredth Tuesday in a row we've been through, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, we're a little grumpy." Sam said rather quickly.

"Hot sauce." You murmured then, you gaze completely blank and emotionless. Dean turned back to you confused.

"What?"

Doris arrived with the food and coffee, setting everything on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap!" She gasped as the bottle slipped through her fingers, but Sam quickly grabbed, setting it down on the table without even looking at it. "Thanks." Doris said before leaving.

"Nice reflexes."

"I knew it was going to happen, Dean. I know everything that's gonna happen."

"You don't know everything." Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, he does. We both do." You said,

"Yeah, right." Dean and Sam said in unison. "Nice guess."

"It wasn't a guess."

"Right, you're a mind reader." They both said simultaneously, making you roll your eyes. "Cut it out, Sam. Sam." They lean towards each other as they continued. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish! Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he—". Dean got tired and threw up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, enough!"

"That's not all. Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit." You explained. And as he overheard her words, Judge Myers, knocked over his glass. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."

"What's your point?"

"My point is we've lived through every possible Tuesday. We"ve watched you die every possible way. We have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burnt it down, tried everything we know to save your life, and we can't. No matter what we do, you die. And then we wake up. And then it's Tuesday again." You blurted out quickly in frustration. Dean watched you closely, noting the shaking in your voice and hands.

"Wow, wow. Okay." He took one of your hands. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah, you say that every time. Well, guess what, Dean, we haven't figured it out."

You pulled your hand from his grip with uneasiness. Not from the touch of his skin, but from the aching pain in your chest. You were letting your feelings for him get out of control and if you weren't careful, when his real death would come. A permanent one in which he would not return the next day. You knew you weren't going to be able to take it and move on.

"Dog." Sam mumbled as you exited the diner.

Dean frowned, looking down once a dog started barking as you passed him.

"There's gotta be some way out of this." He said.

"'Where's my dang keys?'" Sam ignored him completely as he continued to predict everything happening around him.

"Where's my dang keys?" Mr. Pickett asked, searching his pockets for his car keys that Sam had stole from him minutes before.

"'Excuse me.'"

You collided once again with the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper.

"Excuse me."

Seeing how he was predicting each thing, Dean stopped in his tracks, putting his arms in front of Sam and you.

"What?" You looked at him in confusion.

"Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?" Dean asked walking after the blonde girl.

Sam and you shared a quick glance.

"No." You mumbled before going after him.

"A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Dean looked up at you in disbelief. Sam and you shrugged. "That's the guy who went missing?" Dean pointed out as he held up the flyer.

"Yeah?"

"That's his daughter back there." Dean pointed to blonde girl. Sam grabbed the flyer and ran after the girl, leaving Dean and you alone.

Silence settled between you as you watched your surroundings looking for any threat to Dean's life. A part of you knew that his death would come sooner or later like the hundreds of Tuesdays before, but what little hope you still had left assured you that if you were able to save him just once you'd finally end the loop.

Dean's thoughts were somewhere else. To him it had only been a few days since you had rejoined him and Sam on the ride. Which also meant that it had only been a few days since what had happened between the two of you. Now, feelings weren't his forte, much less talking about them. But that didn't stop him from thinking about kissing you every time you were next to him.

The dog next to him growled and barked. You didn't seem to hear him, but Dean walked over to him.

"Hey buddy!" He leaned over to pet it. "Somebody need a friend? Good boy—aaah!"

Sam and you didn't know what had happened. Just that in that moment everything went black and soon you started hearing that song once again as you woke up in the motel room on a new Tuesday.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The next day something strange happened, something changed. In all the Tuesdays that Sam and you had experienced nothing but you changed, but that morning you couldn't help but notice how the man eating pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast had changed his syrup to strawberry one. And even weirder than all that, after discovering this, Sam and you woke up once again, this time without Dean having died.

"So you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?" Dean asked as you sat in the diner booth.

Sam and you ignored him as you watched the pancakes man closely.

"Eat your breakfast." You aswered him without even looking. Dean frowned at that, but he still didn't had the opportunity to ask you what was happening, 'cause the moment the man left the diner, Sam and you both went after him.

The mysterious man walked down the street. Sam followed him close behind until he reached him. Then he grabbed and slammed him into the fence, putting the tip of a wooden stake at his throat.

"Hey!" The man exclaimed.

"I know who you are. Or should I say, what."

"Oh my god, please don't kill me." He begged.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean walked after the two of you, trying to get your attention.

"It took me a hell of a long time but I got it."

You frowned at Sam's words. It was as if he knew the man, even seemed to know how to kill him, yet he hadn't mentioned anything to you.

"What?" The man looked at Sam with confusion.

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts—your kind loves that, don't they?" Sam continued.

"Yeah, sure, okay." The man nodded, looking down nervously at the stake. "Just put the stake down!"

"Sam, maybe you should—" You tried to get closer to him.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops—in fact you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a Trickster."

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space—"

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!"

Suddenly the man started to transform into what Sam and Dean recognized as the real Trickster.

"Actually, bucko, you didn't." He said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, could someone explain to me what is going on?" You asked, gaining his attention. "Who are you? And why are you doing this to us?"

"He's a Trickster." Dean answered next to you.

"I'm doing it to him, sweetheart, not you." The Trickster explained, pointing to Sam. "You're just collateral damage." You looked at him with disbelief as he turned his gaze back to the young Winchester. "You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time."

"And Hasselback, what about him?" Dean asked about the missing guy.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one." He laughed. "Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?" You took a step toward him.

"One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on Sam." He answered. "Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?"

"You son of a bitch." Sam growled.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what. You too, sweetheart." The Trickster looked back at you. "Sam is stubborn, but you... You actually believe you can save him. You'd even give your soul for him, wouldn't you? And the wheel would keep on turning. Deal after deal."

"She won't make any deals." Dean said.

"But not because she hadn't thought of it." The Trickster assured him. His glare fixed on you made you shudder. It was as if he could read all your thoughts, even the darkest ones. "We may not have met before, sweetheart, but I know you."

"Oh yeah?" You raised your eyebrows, grabbing the stake in Sam's hand and pushing him aside. Standing in front of the Trickster, you pulled the stake closer to his neck. "How about I kill you and this all ends now?"

"Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

"You're lying." Sam said.

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." He looked back at him.

"Nah, I think I'd rather kill you." You declared.

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that." He smiled before snapping his fingers.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Promise me I'll be back in time Gotta get back in time

God, you loved that song. Back to the Future was one of your favorite movies. In a way you also hated it because it was Carter's favorite movie and that brought back painful memories, but that morning it became your favorite song. That Asia wasn't playing on the radio meant that something had changed and maybe the Trickster hadn't lied to you when he said he would get you out of the loop.

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asked as he stood by the bathroom sink brushing his teeth.

Sam sat on his bed, his eyes wide open as he watched his brother. He had lived six months without Dean and you. You had both died in front of his eyes and the day hadn't restarted like the others. He had spent six months looking for the Trickster so he could bring him back to this very moment.

"I know, no Asia. This station sucks."

Sam shook his head and looked at the clock radio on the bedside table.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday." You smiled emerging from the bathroom and standing next to Dean.

Without wasting a second, Sam threw off the covers and walked towards you. Dean and you shared a confused look when Sam pulled you two into a hug.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" Dean smiled.

"Enough." He admitted, pulling back to look at you.

"She had the same reaction as you." Dean admitted, pointing to you. "She threw herself at me like..."

"I don't think he needs to know that." You cut him off.

"I don't need to know that." Sam confirmed with a nervous smile. "What, uh, what do you remember?"

"I remember you two were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember getting up with the Trickster. That's about it." He shrugged.

"Great. Okay. Let's go." Dean frowned as he watched Sam gather up his things.

"No breakfast?"

"No breakfast." Sam confirmed.

"All right, I'll pack the car."

"I'll go with you." You smiled at Dean, ready to follow him.

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "You're two not going anywhere alone."

"It's the parking lot, Sam." You looked at him with confusion.

"Just—just trust me."

Seeing the desperate look in his eyes, you nodded. Surely you hadn't had the same experiences. For one you didn't remember Dean dying in the motel parking lot but Sam's reaction was that he had.

"Okay, but you have to get dressed."

"Yeah. Wait here." He asked them, walking into the bathroom with his clothes.

"He really is a lot weirder than you." Dean commented once the door closed behind his brother.

You murmured in agreement as you looked up at him. You still hadn't taken the time to take in that finally that nightmare was over and that Dean was no longer going to die today. You heart and body still ached from losing him so many times.

Now you felt the urge to touch him and never be separated from him again. Maybe the Trickster was right to think you would do anything to save him, even a deal.

"Hey, you don't look so good." Dean said as Sam left the bathroom. "Something else happen?"

"I just had a really weird dream." Sam answered without giving more explanations.

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean asked with a grin.

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[muddyorbsblr]

slipping between future and past [SAS secret santa 2023]

View the full SAS Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader/OC Talia Williams

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, please leave I'm asking nicely); unprotected p in v sex; cunnilingus; magical restraints; language; possibly wonky interpretation of time travel & timeslipping; possibly wonky understanding of Yule [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; still written in 2nd Person POV like my other 'x Reader' stories, but this time Reader has a name and it's "Talia Williams"; this is a secret santa request for @acidcasualties

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "the feel of your hands being brought" and ends at "as he marked your skin"

It was uncharacteristically slow today in the bookstore, barely a handful of people walking in, browsing for a few minutes, and then promptly exiting when they see that you didn't carry the middle school dystopia book series all the kids were raving over. It was a colossal waste of their time and yours, considering there would have been less effort had they just taken even a cursory look at the sign by the door.

You didn't carry children's books. Classics, Myths, and Romance only.

Of the number of people that walked through the doors that you could count on your two hands, you could only count those that actually made a purchase with one. Half of one.

The sound of the door chimes brought your attention to the entrance again, seeing your friend Ariadne bounding into the front area of the store with a frantic look in her eye. "Talia," she panted, headed straight for you. "Babes, I need your help. Are you busy? You got a customer back there?"

"Nope. Just me," you called out, stepping out from behind the counter. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Okay so…you know that guy I'm seeing?"

"Uhh…I think so? Lee, right?"

"Leif. Think trees, Babes. Anyways, he wants me to meet his family and apparently they're super into the ancient Norse traditions, so I need a crash course on how they celebrate Christmas." She paced back and forth by the table that held the New York Times bestsellers that you did hold stock for, picking up a copy of the stalker dark romance duology. "His sister likes to read, you think she'll appreciate this?"

You immediately rushed over to her, grabbing the book and nearly slamming it back down on the stack. "You gotta let them crawl before they walk. Let alone sprint," you explained, giving her Beautiful Bastard instead. "This should be a good enough in between, just in case she's not into guns being shoved up anyone's vagina--"

Up where?! she shrieked, grabbing the first book again, along with the sequel and the book you were handing her. "Okay I'll take that for his sister, and these two for me."

"This is exactly why we're friends," you quipped, ringing up her order. "Now about that other thing…you do know that just because I own a bookshop, it doesn't mean that I know everything about everything, right?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, but I also know that you live for all these myths and folk tales, so I bet you know a thing or two about Viking Christmas."

"Alright fine. Find a chair and settle in," you said with an overly dramatic wave of your hand. "First things first, it's not called 'Viking Christmas', it's called 'Yule'. Immediately if you wanna get on his family's good side, you say Good Yule because it shows that you did at least a customary Google search before you stepped foot on their property." You handed her a small notepad and a pencil. "You're gonna wanna write this down."

When her scribbling down stopped, she perked up with a question. "Do they have a Santa Claus?"

"Yes and no," you answered her, prepping two cups of coffee and handing one over to her before plopping down on your own seat in the reading nook, your favorite one in the entire shop. "Santa Claus is what we call who the Brits refer to as 'Father Christmas'. The Brits got that from 'Yule Figure' from the Viking mythology and Mr Yule Figure himself is...Odin."

"Wait wait hold up." She shot up her hand like a kid asking questions in class. "So Odin is Santa? He goes around little Viking kiddies' neighborhoods and slides down the chimney to give them wooden axes and swords?"

"Hmmm not quite. The whole making a list and checking it twice to give the good little boys and girls presents on Christmas is...not quite how the Vikings do it. Instead they engage in something called the Wild Hunt, where Odin aka Big Yule Father Kahuna calls on his posse of gods and plays a game of non-consensual hide and seek with the living souls. So us being the 'living mortals', we have to find a safe enough hiding place that Odin and Thor and the rest of the Norse gods don't find us, because if they do…they drag us to the Underworld."

"Okay first of all, yikes." Ariadne made a big show of shuddering in her seat over what you just told her. "Can't it be something a little bit less morbid? Like if Thor finds you he drags you to his den of iniquity and has his wicked way with you?"

"I mean it's all myths and folklore anyway," you shot back with a small shrug as you finished off your coffee. "So maybe when the big girls are off in their own corner, we can smut it up and pretend that if someone other than Odin finds us, we can get some happy fun times." You both broke out into giggles at your wording. "And when we're telling the story to the smaller kiddos, we say that the gods only go after the naughty kids. Keep with the spirit of Christmas and all that." You wagged a finger in her direction, giving her another suggestion. "Or in the case of meeting Leif's family, just think which one's gonna have him more devastated, your soul getting dragged into the Underworld or your body getting dragged to Thor's man cave."

She wrote down some more notes on her little notepad before standing up, brimming with excitement. "Okay I think that's all I need. Hopefully…"

"Babes, you're there to meet the family, not get gatekeeper gamer boy levels of interrogated on what you know about Yule. As soon as you don't say 'Merry Viking Christmas', you're in the clear."

She squealed, rushing over to wrap her arms around you and give you a tight squeeze. "Thank you thank you! You just saved me from looking a total ditz meeting his family. I have a really good feeling about this one, you know?"

You gave her a squeeze back, happy that she was finally in a relationship that felt stable enough to start on that family she'd always wanted.

Maybe one day you could be so lucky with your own love life.

"I'm really happy for you, Aria. Let me know how it goes when you get back, okay?"

You worked on wrapping up the book she intended to gift Leif's sister as she asked you another question. "What about mistletoe? Do they have that in Yule?"

You scrunched her nose and shook your head at her question. "Yes and no again. Yes, they've assigned meaning to the plant but no, you don't kiss under it for fear of spending the next year all alone. They believe it to be a symbol for fertility, so it's been known for couples to hang it above their headboards so that their holiday fun times might lead to a child. It's also seen as a symbol for new life or resurrection because there's another folktale that says that Loki fashioned a weapon from the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur, and Frigga's tears turned the white berries red and resurrected her fallen son. Which if you ask me is a steaming pile of horse shit that's almost more ridiculous than how Siegfried was felled in the Nibelungenlied, but that's a story for another day."

"Hold up, but isn't Loki also a son of Frigga?"

You shrugged. "Who knows what's real and what's not at this point? These tales are thousands of years old. All we know right now is that Thor's real and he's friends with a billionaire that made a fancy iron suit and a soldier from the 40s that doesn't even look like he's hit his mid-20s. And that he dated an astrophysicist. Tell you what, if I ever meet him, I'll ask him myself. Maybe I'll even ask him what exactly goes down in the Wild Hunt if they still do it in this century."

"Ooh, if he walks into the store please text me?" You gave her a questioning look. "What? He's my hall pass. Leif knows all about it. Natasha Romanoff's his."

You handed her the gift-wrapped book. "Pinky promise, I'll tell you as soon as a 6'4 muscular Barbie looking dude from Asgard swinging a hammer and summoning thunder and lightning walks into my shop. Maybe I'll even text you if the Black Widow herself walks in so that Leif would owe a favor or two."

"Hey, it could happen," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at you like you were back in the sandbox. "We're in New York, after all. And Avengers Tower's just a ten minute walk away. You never know, you know?"

"Right," you breathed, waving her off as she neared the door. "Merry Yule."

"Merry Crisis," she shot back, blowing you a kiss as she stepped into the cold New York night.

You started cleaning the store so you could close up for the night when a new voice pierced through the quiet.

"I appreciate your refusal to believe that hokum about the mistletoe, darling. It warms my cold Jotun heart knowing that it's safe in your brilliant hands."

Large hands found themselves at your waist before your new visitor's arms wrapped around you from behind, your body going frigid at the action. "Who--?"

"Oh no..." He immediately released you from his hold, allowing you to come face to face with a towering man with onyx curls and a devastatingly handsome face that seemed vaguely familiar. "I must have gone back too far this time." He took a step toward you, his hands twitching in your direction as if he wanted to go back to where he was just a few seconds ago. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn't object. "Sweetheart, who am I to you?"

"What? This time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, confusion coating your words. "You trying to tell me we met before? Because trust me I'd remember meeting someone that looked like you."

"Who am I to you? What do you know of me?" he asked again, his brows upturned at the center of his forehead, his expression reminding you of a baby kitten pleading for affection.

"Not much," you admitted. "You look like the guy that tore up a hole in the sky and rode some space chariot while leading an alien army that laid waste on the city that I call home...and the guy that went up against Iron Man and his friends, including that big green scary monster looking dude."

He hung his head, looking down at the ground as he let out a long sigh. "I don't just look like that guy, darling, I--" He exhaled sharply before composing himself again. "I am that guy. Well, I was. And Banner's honestly not that terrifying once you get to know him." He looked at you again, seeing your hand and beginning to look emotionally deflated. "I went too far back."

"You know who else you look like?" you asked him, a smirk playing at your mouth as you reached for the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that hung in its center, closing the distance he put between you. "You look like my future husband."

The relief was written all over Loki's face as he eyed the ring he'd given you, a brilliant smile gracing his features when he pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours.  You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself against him as the god's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

"My darling little mortal," he mumbled against your lips. "Somehow managing to fool a trickster god, for any amount of time, is a feat in and of itself." He kissed you again, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle when you put your arms over his shoulders.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm brilliant," you answered him back when you pulled away, your fiancée keeping your feet off the ground. He adjusted his hold on you to hold you up by a single arm, making you giggle when he started walking toward the front door and made your keys materialize in his now free hand. "What're you doing, Mischief?"

"You're finished here for the night," he stated simply, all the lights turning off, along with the doors locking closed, and the sign in front flipping to "Closed" to indicate you'd retired for the night, with a simple wave of his hand. "I'm taking you home, little mortal. Close your eyes."

A breeze flew by your face and the next thing you knew your back was pressed against the familiar wooden column of your kitchen area. Loki crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pressed your chests together, hands traveling down the sides of your body to wrap your legs around him.

The feel of your hands being brought above your head despite the god's hands still roaming and grasping at your thighs had your eyes snapping open, breaking the kiss with a little squeak from the back of your throat as you looked up. A thrill shot up your spine seeing a thick glowing ring of Loki's seiðr fastened around your wrists and keeping you tethered to the column behind you.

"I could not decide whether to reward you or punish you for getting the better of me earlier, my love," he rasped, latching his lips to your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. He smirked against you when you started whimpering and arching into his touch within seconds. "So I shall do both."

You let out a whiny sound that had him lightly grasping your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip to coax it into a pout. He kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. Then another ring of his seiðr appeared at your hips, keeping them flush against the column as both rings began to lift you up, your feet soon leaving the ground until he was eye level with your pelvis.

He made a motion with his hand and suddenly you felt a breeze all over your body as he bared you to him, your clothes disappearing in a flash of green.

"Loki…" you whined, squirming under his predatory gaze as another ring of seiðr went around each of your legs, just above your knee, and opened you to him.

"I've not been home in ages, my darling mortal," he rasped, not taking his eyes off of your arousal as he licked his lips. "And I am famished." He took a step closer to you, lightly running his fingers up your inner thigh.

"Let--Let me down, then," you said shakily, feeling your walls quivering and clenching around nothing as he traced up your inner thigh again, only this time with the tip of his nose before pressing a tender kiss to your skin. "I can fix us something to--"

"Oh no, sweet Talia." He kissed you right below your belly button, groaning into your skin. "I do not crave food, my love." He continued to press kisses to your stomach, faintly chuckling when you tried to close your legs and his restraints kept you from moving even an inch. "Your reward is that I will not deny you any ounce of pleasure tonight. I have longed for you too much to deny you much of anything."

He moved his head lower, and you let out an obscene moan of his name as he ran his tongue along the length of your slit before slowly circling your clit.

"Your punishment…" he breathed, pressing slow lingering kisses and laving his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "No touching."

"Loki, wait--Oh f-fuck!" The room filled with your moans as he proceeded to alternate between long licks at your entrance and close his lips over your clit for what felt like a blissfully torturous eternity. He kept his word on not denying you anything as he brought you over the edge over and over again.

Your throat was raw from your constant moans and screams of his name and various expletives, already having lost count of how many times you came for him when he slid two devastatingly long fingers inside you and curled up, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "One more, sweet girl," he mumbled around your clit, the vibrations from his voice already bringing you to the brink of orgasm yet again.

He moved your legs to rest your thighs on his shoulders, moaning against you when your entire body tensed as you came for him again, your pussy quivering against his mouth as he lapped at your release with languid strokes of his tongue. The restraints around your wrists and hips moved you down the column until your face was level with his, a weak whimper slipping from you when you saw how his lips glistened with your juices.

You barely registered the sound of the zipper as he kissed along your chest, biting and sucking more bruises into your skin. He lined himself up at your entrance, sliding into you in a single effortless thrust and eliciting a staggered sigh of relief from the god. "I've m-missed this," he whimpered between thrusts. "Missed you." Thrust. "My precious mortal." Thrust. "My wife." Thrust.

He threw his head back, letting out a decadent moan when you clenched around him after what he'd just called you. It had you desperately longing for your wedding day. Desperately aching to touch him. Just desperate for him.

"Please…" you whimpered, feebly fighting against the restraints again. When the rings holding you to the column finally disappeared, you could only let out a sharp exhale, your hand immediately clawing into your fiancée's back, the other weaving into his onyx curls.

Loki pressed you harder against the column, driving himself deeper inside you, his hands roaming and grasping wherever he could, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Couldn't touch you enough. He slanted his mouth over yours, moaning into the kiss when your tongues tangled together and you could taste your release on him. He adjusted his hold on you, letting out another muffled obscene sound into each other's mouths when the motion caused you to bounce on his cock.

Once he held you securely in his arms he started walking you further into your home, each step making you bounce on him and further weakening you in his embrace. He eased you down onto your bed, breaking the kiss and rendering you completely speechless watching his clothes melt away and baring his godly physique to you.

All you could do was breathe his name as he moved to hover over you again, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace. He wrapped his hand around your knee, raising your leg to wrap it around his waist so he could drive into you harder. When you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, the only sound that came out of you was a sharp moan, your body weakly arching against his hand before squeaking out, "I can't--"

"Just one more, dear heart. For me," he grunted, latching his lips onto that spot between your neck and shoulder as he kept on rubbing tight circles on the over-sensitized nub. Your legs shook and your walls convulsed around him, bring him to his own release as he marked your skin.

Once you both came down from your high, you felt his seiðr wash over you as he pulled you into his arms, putting the covers over you both with another wave of his hand. "I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, that felt a little pent up," you exhaled, a tiny part of you finding it unfair that he'd already resumed his regular breathing as if he didn't just fuck you senseless.

Damn Asgardian endurance.

"Because it was, precious mortal," he told you simply, tracing his finger along your cheek. "How long has it been since last you saw me?"

"Three months…give or take a week?" You braced yourself, already dreading what he'd say next.

"I have not seen you for over a year, my love," he confessed, pressing another kiss to your lips. "At least not like this. Every time I had seen you, you were yet to know me. There were worlds where you even outright feared me, scurrying away once you'd realized where you recognized me from. When I got to your shop earlier, I nearly believed I landed in another iteration of that world."

Suddenly your 'prank' from earlier left a sinking feeling in your stomach. "Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't know." You wrapped your arm around him, pressing yourself even closer to him if that were even possible, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just thought it'd be a bit of fun--"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before softly kissing the spot. "But I have missed you terribly. Getting to hold you, to love you. To simply be here with you and enjoy a moment with my wife."

"Future wife," you pouted. "We're still in the planning phase, sadly. I take it the last time you saw me was sometime in our…future? I'm sorry this still gets confusing for me." He nodded his answer, pressing his lips to  your forehead. "Well then the timelines better fucking behave because I refuse to let you go anywhere. I get that you're a big powerful hero now, and knowing that you're out there making sure that everyone's safe and gets to come home to their families? I couldn't be prouder. But you should get to come home, too." You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "Preferably for longer than a quickie with your fiancé."

His brows furrowed, shaking his head at your sentiment before pulling you to lay on top of him, chests pressed together with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "I've come from a time where we were married and I called you my wife. Regardless of our pending ceremony, that is what you are to me now and what I will call you moving forward. No more of those semantics."

You nudged his chin with your nose, a giggle escaping you when he pulled you up to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Tell me about it. The future…"

"When I found you, you were a force to be reckoned with. Planning your friend Aria's wedding--"

"Ah, so she and Leif really are headed for the fairytale happy ever after?"

"No no, you were planning the wedding in Asgard." You eyes widened at the new information. "She was set to marry Thor."

"Wait she what?!"

A/N: I'm so excited to participate in this year's Secret Santa again! This has been so much fun to write for both times around, and hopefully the story did justice to the request 🥹💖

The request from @acidcasualties:

secret santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[mint-yooxgi]

Rover - Spy!Jongin X Reader X Yandere!Spy!Kai

Twin!AU, Spy!AU & Yandere!AU - Based off of Kai's Mini Album Rover

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Tragedy, Smut

Pairing: Jongin X Reader X Kai

Words: 25,600

Warnings: Violence: physical and gun related, blood and injuries, unhealthy relationships, allusions to cheating (but not actually in that particular context), major deaths, assault and mentions of sexual trafficking. Smut: Dub-Con (there is explicit consent, but it's immediately negated due to the fact that OC is misled to believe she is consenting to her husband when it is not actually him; unknowing infidelity), oral (fem. rec), praise, body worship, dirty talk, very sensual and intimate. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: *Ding ding ding* @ninibears-erigom come get your dinner!! Hehehe, anyways, this is heavily inspired by Kai's third mini album and the subsequent MVs/Films for it. I'm a little hesitant posting it cause of the dub-con aspect, but this is a much darker fic than I usual write and I really like how it turned out. Also, please don't come in my inbox saying OC is stupid for not realizing things, I don't wanna hear it lmaoo anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

“What’s your position from the target?” A deep voice sounds in your ear, but you appear to pay him no mind.

“Twenty metres.” Comes your low reply, taking a sip from the crystalline glass held in your hand.

“Whenever you’re ready: approach.” Another male responds, and you can feel his eyes locked onto your figure from the side of the room.

Carefully, you place the champagne flute in your hand onto a side table, weaving your way through the crowd. People hardly notice you, too wrapped up in their own worlds to see nothing but a fleeting shadow dancing in the corner of their vision.

You smirk.

A moment later, and you feel someone bump into your front, spilling wine all over your satin gown.

“Pardon me,” a rough voice greets your ears as you wear an expression of shock.

“It’s all my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you smile sheepishly, curling in on yourself as hushed whispers and pointed glances are sent your way.

“Be more careful next time, lass,” he responds with a firm nod of his head before turning away.

A waiter offers you a napkin to begin cleaning yourself off with, of which you accept graciously as you begin to walk away.

Little does anyone notice the smirks that tug subtly on either one of your faces.

A shrill scream reaches your ears as a dull thud echoes around the room. The music from the string quartet stops abruptly, people gathering in a circle around a now convulsing body. Not just any body, but the body of the man you had just ‘accidentally’ bumped into.

Not even a second later, the body stills, laying dead upon the floor.

Turning down one of the side hallways of the banquet hall, you appear to slip into the bathroom to freshen up. Only, you mange to slip out of the side door instead.

The cool night air is crisp against your skin, hands immediately coming up to grasp your arms for warmth. That cloth is still held in your hand, but you’ve long since given up attempting to save your dress. There’s no use, anyways. You’ve done what you’ve came here to do, so now all that’s left is to rendezvous at the meeting point, and call it a night.

“Did you get the rest of the information we needed?” That same deep voice from earlier echoes through your little earpiece, but you know he’s not talking to you for the moment.

“Signed, sealed, and delivered.” The other answers just as you hear the same door you exited out of creak open behind you.

Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you see that same waiter step out of the building. A smirk pulls at his lips as he sees you, loosening the first few buttons on his shirt as he approaches.

“God, I don’t know how these servers wear these things all night,” he grumbles, fingering the tie looser to ease it from his neck.

You grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he steps in front of you. “Well, I think you look very handsome.”

“At your service, My Lady,” he grins right back, a teasing glint shining within his eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist.

A small silence settles over the both of you as you begin to lean in to one another. You stare deeply into his soft brown eyes, lips quirking as he squeezes your waist gently in his hold.

“If you two are done flirting with each other, we have a job to finish.” A sharp voice interrupts the moment you had been having with your husband.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes, turning to face the second male who now stands at the end of the alleyway. A male who is identical in every way to the one who still stands behind you, save for a small mole on the back of his neck, directly beneath his hairline. “We’re coming."

“Just because you don’t have a wife, Kai, doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to appreciate mine.” Again, his arms slide around your waist, resting his chin over your one shoulder.

Kai’s jaw tenses, lips pursing as his frown deepens.

“Jongin, don’t boast.” You poke said male’s arm lightly while letting out a soft giggle. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

“It’s never stopped him before,” Kai mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Then, without waiting for either one of you to respond, he continues, “Come on, let’s get going.”

Without another word, the three of you are heading down the alleyway and towards a sleek black car. 

The all leather interior is cool against your skin as you slide into the backseat, a chill running down your spine.

Kai’s eyes flash in the rearview mirror, a silent puff of air escaping him as your husband doesn’t even seem to notice.

“There’s a blanket under the passenger seat if you’re cold.” He states, somewhat gruffly as the engine purrs to life.

The lights illuminate the path before you, and without waiting another second, Kai speeds out of the alleyway, racing off into the night.

“Stop taking better care of my wife than me.” Jongin grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest somewhat childishly. “Get your own."

“Maybe if you payed better attention to her, I wouldn’t fucking have to.” Kai remarks, weaving in and out through other cars as he heads for the agency you all work for across the city.

“Boys,” you tut, shaking your head in amusement. A moment later, and that blanket is wrapped around your figure. It’s surprisingly warm. “We’ve just got to find your  older brother a partner of his own to worry about, and then he won’t have to worry about me.”

Briefly, his eyes glance at you again within the rearview mirror.

Impossible. He’ll always worry about you, since his brother never seems to want to.

“What type of person are you in to, Kai?” You lean forward, resting your arm on the back of Jongin’s seat as you look towards the elder of the two.

“You ask me this every time.” He grumbles, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“And you never have an answer for me.” You reply with an amused hum, somewhat knowingly. “Do you fancy men, women, both, or any type of person there is?”

Jongin quirks a brow, shaking his head while muttering about your incessant need to find his brother a life partner.

“Why is it you really want to know?” Kai shoots a look towards you out of the corner of his eyes, lips quirking as he pulls off of the highway. “Worried you might make yourself jealous?”

A loud, boisterous laugh falling from your painted lips greets his ears. You even go so far as to pat his shoulder a few times in jest, wiping at your eyes with your free hand as if you had tears gathering at the corners.

“Now, why would knowing you fancy someone make me jealous?” You remove your hand. “You know I’m married, right?”

That damn ring of yours glinting beneath the artificial lights illuminating the street he drives down mocks him, the matching one sitting proudly on Jongin’s own hand. A ring which should have been on his finger instead.

Kai grits his teeth. “How could I ever forget?”

“No, I want to know your type so I can set you up with someone,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Perhaps Shinobu from logistics, or my friend Sunmin.”

He blinks, staring blankly ahead as he turns into the entrance to the underground parking lot for your agency. “I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

“Your comments about our marriage suggest otherwise,” Jongin grumbles just as Kai pulls into a spot.

Your brow quirks, but you say nothing as you exit the vehicle.

As soon as your foot touches the concrete flooring, the engine is cut, the two males stepping out to join you immediately after. Jongin instantly has his arm around your waist, helping to guide you inside of the building.

The whole time you walk inside and to the elevator, you can feel Kai’s eyes on you. However, little do you realize the way his shoulder still tingles from your touch mere minutes before.

The ride up to the main facility is silent, both males flanking you on either side. The only difference is, Jongin has his hand placed lowly on your back, even with that blanket still resting over your shoulders. It’s faint, but the material smells of jasmine and a certain type of musk you can’t quite put your finger on. All that you do know, is it smells incredible, and you find yourself leaning in to catch that scent more often that not. 

A fact of which Kai picks up on.

A subtle smirk pulls at his lips as he sees you wrap that blanket tighter around yourself as the elevator doors slide open with a slight ding. The fact that you lean into it, wanting to smell more of him mixed with you sets his heart racing in his chest.

Now, if only he could have you smelling like that naturally.

“I’m going to go change, and then I’ll meet you boys in the boss’ office.” You say, voice managing to pull both of them out of their thoughts for the moment.

A nod is all you receive from Jongin as you turn to place a gentle kiss onto his cheek. Pulling away, you smile softly at Kai before heading down a separate hallway and towards your own private office at the one end of the facility.

As soon as you disappear from sight, Kai is shooting a pointed look at his younger brother.

“You didn’t even ask if she was okay.” His tone is pointed, disproval heavy in his gaze.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap.” Jongin rolls his eyes, already heading down the opposite hallway and towards their boss’ office. “You didn’t either.”

“At least I noticed she was cold.” Kai huffs, eyes narrowing at the back of his brother’s head as he follows after Jongin.

“If she was cold she would have said something.” Jongin replies nonchalantly as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Taking another step, he rounds on his brother. “Stop meddling in our affairs. What my wife and I do is none of your concern.”

“It is when you don’t fucking treat her properly.” Kai seethes, pushing Jongin harshly against the wall using his forearm. “Did you even notice that bastard didn’t even fucking apologize for spilling his drink all over her? Or were you just too busy eye-fucking his wife.”

“We got the job done, didn’t we?” Jongin spits, shoving his brother off of him.

“You’re fucking lucky we know what we’re dong.” Kai snaps, brushing past his twin with a harsh knock into his shoulder. “Why did you even bother to join this agency if all you ever do is complain about the jobs we get told to do, and the covers you get assigned?”

Of course, Kai knows exactly why Jongin does everything he does. It’s to prove that he always gets what he wants. At least, everything that Kai has ever desired. It’s not like Jongin actually likes the same things as his elder twin, he just wants to prove that he can take whatever it is that Kai wants for himself. Yet, whenever Kai points it out, no one believes him. Instead, they fall for Jongin’s little innocent act. Every. Single. Time.

To say Kai is frustrated would be an understatement. If he needed a new phone, Jongin’s always had to come first. If he wanted to follow a specific career path, Jongin did everything in his power to prove how much smarter, how much better he is at it than him.

The final straw had been you.

Kai had been smitten ever since he first laid his eyes on you in high school. Only, Jongin took notice of the fact of yet another person his twin had desired and made it his mission to get you first. Kai had lost many friends and lovers throughout the years because of this, but he thought you would be different. You had never played into Jongin’s tricks, so Kai couldn’t help but hope that finally, he could claim someone as his own. Someone who he had always desired above everyone else. Someone whom he loves.

That’s when the two of you announced you were getting married. With the same damn set of rings Kai had wanted to use to propose to you someday, too.

Kai had seen red that day, taking the most intensive and erotic bender of his entire life. It took him days to recover, and when he did, he was never the same man.

None of these other women were you. No one else mattered to him but you.

Yet, he couldn’t hurt you. No, never you. He couldn’t ruin your own happiness for his own selfish gains. Not like his brother. So, no matter how badly it pained him to watch you walk down that aisle in a dress he only ever dreamed you’d be wearing for him, he grinned and bared it. All because he loves you. More than anything.

The worst part? You don’t even realize how badly Jongin treats you. At least, in Kai’s opinion.

Jongin doesn’t bring you your favourite flowers on your birthday like he does. Jongin doesn’t remember your favourite take-out order when you’re feeling down. Hell, Jongin can’t even offer you the love that you have always deserved like Kai can.

If only you could see that, too.

Sitting within the boss’ office with his brother is tense, the elder woman leaning against her desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Her stern gaze looks over the both of them sharply, the usb they were required to use to hack the system of the banquet held firmly in her one hand.

“Do one of you want to tell me how this got destroyed?” Her tone is pointed, and they both know she won’t accept a bullshit answer.

A moment of silence before Jongin is letting out a loud sigh. “I told him to be more careful, but this idiot managed to crush it while subduing the waiter he was supposed to be impersonating.”

Kai’s nostril’s flare.

“You were the one that insisted that he take out the waiter instead so he could ‘keep an eye on his wife’. If I remember correctly.” He seethes, nothing but malice in his gaze as he glares at his brother.

“Jongin trusts his wife with his own life, why would he need to babysit one of our top two agents?” Their boss, Quincy, replies bluntly.

“Oh, is that what he told you?” Kai scoffs, sitting back in his seat as he rolls his eyes.

“I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of your attitude, Kai.” Her gaze sharpens, turning the full intensity of her heated glare onto him. “You may be the other half of our top two agents, but every day you push your luck.”

“If it weren’t for Jongin’s fuck up tonight, I wouldn’t have had to hack into the security mainframe manually, and we could have been out of there sooner.” Kai shifts in his seat once more, gripping the arms of his chair tightly beneath his fingers.

“Your purpose in these dual missions is to give each other an alibi should people start getting suspicious.” Quincy looks between the both of them, her lips pursed in a tight line. “We can’t keep your covers hidden if the both of you don’t cooperate. You’re brothers for crying out loud. Act like it.”

“I don’t know what you know about brotherly love, boss,” Jongin chuckles, “but we’ve never had it.”

“Then you better learn some before one of you ends up dead.” She huffs. “I know someone who would be devastated if they were to learn of at least one of your deaths.”

The pointed look she sends Jongin has a white hot fury flooding Kai’s veins at how unbothered his twin looks by this statement. Not only that, but a tightness begins welling inside his chest, heart aching at the truth behind those words.

He swallows thickly.

Just then, a knock sounds on the door. A second later, and you pop your head in, entering the room in a fresh pair of pants and a new shirt.

“Good. You’re here.” Quincy nods, pushing herself off of her desk and walking behind it so that she can take a seat. “Now, the three of you,” she looks between you all, “give me the rundown of your latest assignment.”

Stepping over beside Jongin, you perch yourself on the one arm of his chair as you meet Quincy’s gaze across from you.

“Target: William Darcey, eliminated.” You begin, pulling out a small pin no bigger than the size of a pill capsule. Leaning forward, you place the empty container on the edge of her desk. “The new toxin Jeremy developed works like a charm. Dropped dead within a minute of being administered, and looked like a seizure to boot.”

“Excellent.” She nods her approval. “As always, it’s what I expect from you, and you always deliver.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” You nod back, keeping your head tilted forward in gratitude for a moment longer.

“I expect none of you were discovered.” Briefly, she looks over all three of you.

“If we were, we are unaware of it.” Jongin answers her, his hand moving to settle on your lower back.

The way you lean into his touch has Kai tensing in his seat beside you.

“My moles haven’t heard anything. Darcey was pronounced dead at the banquet, by natural causes.” Quincy shuffles some papers on her desk. “The information Kai managed to hack gives us our final target. The man pulling the strings behind this entire operation we’re attempting to shut down. Already, our Zero Division has moved to rescue those who have been trafficked by Don Vanderleen. The rescue is underway as we speak.”

“Are operations running as usual?” You inquire, and you notice her eyes flash. You shrink in your spot, noticing the disappearance of Jongin’s comforting touch. Though, you’re not the only one that does. “My apologies, Ma’am. I should have known better.”

“Next time, don’t interrupt until I’m finished.” She places the papers in her hands rather firmly on top of her desk.

You can only avert your gaze to the floor as Kai shifts once more in his seat.

His fingers twitch, longing to comfort you like he knows his brother should be doing right now. Even if it’s as little as his hand on your back, he would offer you his support in any way he can, not take it away.

“As I was saying,” another sharp look is sent your way by Quincy, “in two days’ time, Don Vanderleen will be attending the ballet Swan Lake at the Holly Theatre. We have already reserved the booth seats for you and Jongin to attend with him. You’ll be covering as two private investors interested in his more personal affairs.” She looks at you when she says this, shifting her gaze to the man sitting to your left in the next second. “Kai, you are expected to perform the assassination from the rooftop through the large domed ceiling. We will not tolerate failure. Not when we’ve been working towards this goal for the past two years. It’s time we bring this warlord to justice.”

Immediately, the three of you are nodding your understanding, accepting the files she hands you from across her desk. Your alibis, new cover profiles, as well as all the information on who you’re going to be sitting with, interacting with, and how you will be acting are all included inside.

“Learn this inside and out,” Quincy states, leaning back in her chair and observing the three of you carefully. Then, she turns her sharp gaze towards both you and Jongin. “Tomorrow, you’ll be fitted for your outfits. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” You reply for the both of you.

“Until then,” she turns away from you to begin riffling through the one drawer of her desk. “Dismissed.”

The three of you do not need to be told twice. 

Standing, you all exit the room. Jongin leads, not even bothering to wait for you as Kai holds the door open. You smile slightly in thanks, and from that simply action alone, Kai can feel his heart attempting to beat right out of his chest. At least he knows that if anything were to happen, he will take much better care of you than his brother can.

Catching up with Jongin, you fall into step beside him. Casually, he wraps his arm around your waist, not even bothering to look in your direction as he does so.

Stopping in the main hall, you turn to face Kai once more.

“Thanks for covering for his ass tonight.” You meet Kai’s gaze as you poke Jongin in the side of the ribs. “I swear he’s never outgrown his baby stage.”

“Oh, so, you’ve noticed, too?” Kai quirks a brow, a grin tugging at his features.

“Hey!” Jongin whines, lips tugging downwards in a pout before pulling upwards in a smirk. Leaning in, he whispers in your ear loud enough for his brother to hear, “that’s not what you were saying last night.”

Kai’s jaw twitches, and he has to restrain himself from clocking his brother right in front of you at this very moment. He knows what Jongin is trying to do, and he won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him snap.

“Jongin,” you hit his side, averting your gaze so sweetly as you do so.

If only Kai could make you react like that. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see you so bashful because of him. Him, and only him.

“Anyways,” you clear your throat, noticing how the elevator opens before you. Jongin must have called it while you weren’t looking. “We should get going, but did you need-“

“Come on, Darlin’,” Jongin tugs you into the elevator beside him. “I’ve had a long day, and I want to get home.”

You blink in mild shock, attempting to turn back towards Kai to finish offering him a ride home since you all drove in together this morning. Only, before another word can so much as leave you, Jongin is turning you towards himself and pressing his lips against your own as he cups your face.

The last thing Kai sees before the elevator doors close in his face is your surprised face before you’re completely melting into the kiss. The fact that he could just tell his brother had been watching his reaction out of the corner of his eyes sets his blood boiling.

Heading towards the stairs, Kai harshly slams the door open. His fists are clenched by his side as he begins to rush down them, the familiar burning of tears igniting behind his eyes. With how tight his jaw is clenched, he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack from the pressure.

Jongin is ruthless: dangling you in front of Kai like some toy. Viewing you as some grand prize to hold over his older brother every chance he gets. Only, that’s what Jongin doesn’t understand. You are not some toy. You are not an object to be owned and used as he pleases. 

That is what angers Kai the most. Jongin doesn’t even view you as a person, but simply another conquest that he can hold over his twin. A trophy to display whenever and however he wants, just to hurt Kai as much as possible.

If only you weren’t so blinded by your own emotions.

Emotions which shine clearly in your eyes as you pull away to stare deeply into Jongin’s own. The silence in the elevator is comforting, and the soft smile you see painting his features as he looks at you sets your heart racing.

You chuckle. “I wish you would stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He hums innocently, his arms once more wrapped around your waist, and holding you flush against him.

“Kissing me so suddenly,” you poke his chest lightly. “If you want to kiss me, just ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grins, leaning in to peck your lips one more time.

You roll your eyes playfully as you hear the familiar chime of the elevator doors opening.

Stepping out, Jongin follows close behind, grabbing your hand in his own. He swings your arms gently between the both of you as you walk to the car, pulling the keys out of your pocket and unlocking it quickly. You part only to slide into the seats, hands immediately finding one another over the console once you’re both settled inside.

Jongin turns to you, a tender look in his eyes. “Stay with me until sunrise?”

You smile, heart warming at the secret code you made for each other ever since your wedding night. A code which lets you know that you not only love one another, but will stay with each other until the end of time.

“Only if we get to watch the sunset.”

Pulling out of the parking garage, you take off down the road. The drive home is quick, quaint in the silence that settles around the both of you. Yet, with the comforting way he squeezes your hand, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

***

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed.

Pulling yourself up and tossing off the covers, you’re quick to get ready for the day. Jongin must already be up and waiting for you, opting to have let you sleep in for a little while longer.

Once you reach the kitchen, you’re surprised to see no sight of Jongin waiting for you. Not even a note has been written for you in attempts to explain his whereabouts.

Your brow furrows in slight worry. He couldn’t have left without you already, right? It wouldn’t be extremely odd for him to; not completely out of the ordinary. The last time he did something like this though, was at the very beginning of your relationship. Back when you were still learning everything there was to know about each other.

After having a quick breakfast, you begin to make your way towards the agency. You hope beyond everything that Jongin is already there waiting for you, and not having decided to just up and disappear. You know that he hates fitting days, but you never thought he’d run out on you like this.

Stepping through the door to the clothing department reveals Nancy waiting patiently for you behind her desk. Her sewing machine whirs softly, a piece of fabric being pushed beneath the threaded needle.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls, her glasses close to sliding right off her nose as she concentrates on the hemline she seems to be sewing.

“Take your time, Nance,” you call, already moving over to your usual fitting spot.

A soft sigh escapes you as you sit on the edge of the little pedestal in front of the three way mirror. Blankly, you stare at your reflection, leaning forward to rest your elbow on your knee. 

Jongin still hasn’t answered any of your calls or texts, and you’re getting a bit concerned. The last time he skipped out on fitting day for an upcoming mission, you thought Quincy was going to hang him by his toes off of the side of the building. You just hope he has a decent excuse this time.

The sound of the door opening behind you draws your attention just as you finally get a response from him.

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep voice sounds, and you lock eyes with who appears to be your husband in the mirror.

You glance down to read the message.

Had an emergency arise. Cover for me?

“Jongin!” Nancy exclaims, eyes lighting up with mirth as she finally finishes sewing that piece of fabric together. “You’re right on time! Come in, come in!”

He gives her a tight smile, before turning to face you.

“I was worried.” Your brow furrows slightly, a disappointed downturn of your lips as you stand to your feet.

“I know,” he grimaces slightly, playing the part of the remorseful husband well. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

You let out another sigh. “You’re here now.”

Nancy glances between the two of you curiously, a minor quirk to her brow. “Trouble in paradise? I’ve never seen you two act so cold.”

“We’re fine, Nance,” you reply quickly. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“Alright,” she shoots you a skeptical look. “I’ve already got the outfits ready for you both, so you just sit tight and wait here.”

Scurrying off to the back, Nancy disappears from sight.

You can hear her fumbling around with some clothes, cursing as she drops something. A loud clatter is heard from behind the stacks of fabric, and you see some beads scatter across the floor.

“You okay, Nan?” You call out.

“Yeah!” She assures you, cursing a few more times under her breath as she shifts things around. “I’m just going to be another minute.”

You can hear her muttering to herself about finding where she put the matching vest as more shuffling occurs.

Taking this opportunity, you turn towards the male standing beside you, only to see him already staring at you.

“Thank you,” keeping your voice low, you lean into him subtly. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and you notice that he blinks a few times, as if you’ve just pulled him out of his own thoughts. “For covering for him.”

“Yeah, well,” Kai lets out an exasperated breath, “you know my brother.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You tell him honestly. “I don’t know how you put up with his shit all the time.”

“He’s done this before?” His brow quirks, an irritated twitch to his lips.

“Fittings aren’t the only things he likes skipping out on from time to time.” You say, glancing down at the ground with a frown. “‘Emergency’ my ass.”

You swear you see Kai’s nostril’s flare, but before he gets a chance to reply, Nancy is returning with two separate outfits in her hands.

“Sorry I took so long, couldn’t find the one vest for the life of me.” She chuckles, handing each of you your respective outfits. “Change into these. and then I can finish any alterations you may need.”

Grabbing the garments from her hands, both you and Kai enter your respective changing rooms. Not even five minutes later, you both step out, moving to stand on each of the two pedestals in front of the mirrors.

A low whistle escapes you.

“I always knew you’d look good in red.” You comment, eying the finely tailored suit that hugs Kai’s figure delicately.

The bright crimson stretches from the jacket, all the way down to his slacks. Even the vest he wears beneath is the same colour, exposing the slightest bit of his chest as there doesn’t seem to be a shirt buttoned underneath. The fact that his hair sits that golden blond atop his head only adds to the look, his honeyed skin practically glowing despite the harshness of the artificial lights.

Kai absolutely revels in your gaze. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you give him a few glances from head to toe, a shiver caressing his spine as he notices the corner of your lips twitching upwards. He knows you’re probably only picturing what Jongin will look like in such an outfit, but like hell is he letting anyone take this moment from him.

Finally, you are gazing at him just as he always knows he looks at you, and right now is no exception.

There you stand, in a gorgeous golden gown which accentuates every sinful curve of your body. A slit rests on the left side of the dress, following your leg upwards until about mid-thigh, allowing for ample movement in case things go south. Either way, you look absolutely radiant, and Kai curses his brother for being stupid enough to miss this.

He should be here, worshipping the very ground you walk on. Not fucking off on some random trip just cause he’s throwing a tantrum over fitting day.

“You look…” the words get caught in his throat as you meet his gaze, his breath hitching once more. He blinks, clearing his throat, “stunning.”

A soft smile graces your features as you avert your gaze, and if Kai didn’t know any better, he’d say he just made you shy.

His heart warms. Finally, he can say that he was the cause of your bashful reaction. Him, and him alone.

“Are you sure these outfits aren’t too…” you turn towards Nancy, “loud?”

“Yours? No.” She shakes her head. “His? Maybe.”

A chuckle escapes the woman’s mouth as you nod.

“I just remember you saying how you would love to see your husband in a bright red someday, that preferably isn’t blood.” She winks. “Though, I’m just surprised he didn’t fight you on it like he usually does. Equally surprised he didn’t complain this time around.”

You and Kai share a look.

“I simply decided that maybe I should listen to my beautiful wife for once.” Kai answers smoothy. “She’s usually right, after all.”

“Oh?” Nancy quirks her brow at this. “She finally smack some sense into your whiny ass?”

“I did no such thing!” You gasp, as if you’re truly scandalized by her words. Only, the playful wink you offer her immediately after has grins pulling at all of your faces.

“I just finally realized that I should appreciate the woman I love more often.” 

There is nothing but sincerely within his gaze as he looks at you when he says this. An intensity you almost long for from another male who looks exactly like him.

A puff of air escapes you, shaking your head lightly. “You always were the hopeless romantic.”

“For you?” He hums, turning back to face the mirror as he straightens out his blazer. “Always.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Nancy feign gagging.

“Bleck! Will you two stop being so lovey-dovey?” Her nose scrunches as she moves over to you to fix the hem of your skirt slightly. “It’s seriously gross.”

“You think this is us being lovey-dovey?” You snort out a laugh, the corner of your lips twitching upwards knowingly. You lift your head to meet Kai’s gaze, a playful roll to your eyes. “Oh, Honey, you’re just so sweet. I cannot bear to call you anything but.”

Kai shares a laugh with you, despite the way his heart races inside of his chest from your words. Sure, you may not mean it, but he’ll cherish this moment for as long as he can. After all, your words mean more to him that you’ll ever know.

“But, My Darling,” the grin that stretches across his features is nothing short of sultry, “you know that nothing can compare to your beauty. It’s enough to rival even the deepest of oceans, and highest of mountains, for it is eternal in the ways you captivate me.”

You both share another laugh, though this time, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Okay, now you’re just rubbing it in.” Nancy sighs, shooting an almost longing glance towards who she thinks is your husband. 

A glance which you immediately pick up on. 

You tense. 

“I wish someone would speak to me like that. Maybe I should flirt with you brother more often. See if he has as silvered a tongue as you, Jongin.” Nancy darts her gaze over at the male briefly before focussing back in on the task at hand.

Thank fuck Nancy is too busy hemming your skirt to look up to see the way Kai cannot hide the grimace that pulls onto his face at her words.

“You shouldn’t use him like that, Nancy. Kai is a gentleman, and you shouldn’t joke about getting him to do what you want. He doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t think he’s in the market anyways.” You state, rather casually as you smooth out the front of your dress. “Besides, aren’t you married.”

The judgement is clear on your features as you meet her gaze in the mirror. Lightly, you shake your head in disproval.

“A girl can dream.” Nancy sighs, her gaze once more flicking over at the male to your right.

“If you’re that unhappy in your marriage, Nance, you should probably get a divorce.” You say, a hint of concern now shining in your eyes. “To even imply you would cheat-“

“It was just a joke, sweetie,” she huffs, rolling her eyes a bit exasperatedly. “Lighten up.”

You purse your lips, letting out a long sigh through your nose.

“Jokes are meant to be funny.” 

Nancy shoots an incredulous look towards the male standing to your right.

“Geez,” she huffs, “didn’t realize you’d be so sensitive about your brother.”

The two of you share a look.

“Anyways, you’re probably right about the red being too loud for the ballet.” Nancy sighs, standing back to her feet. A second later, and she’s disappeared around the stacks of fabric only to reemerge holding a standard black suit and tie. “Change into this instead.”

Seamlessly, she hands the male the new outfit before he disappears back inside the change room. 

Once the curtain has slid closed, she leans into you, “Don’t worry. I’ll pack that little red ensemble for you separately.”

You quirk a small smile, somewhat sadly, “Thanks, Nance.”

A minute later, and Kai is stepping out in the muted suit, looking just as fine as he did in the red one.

“Your husband can certainly pull off anything he wants.” Nancy chuckles, a certain spark shining within her eyes that you don’t particularly like.

You simply quirk a tight smile in response as you step in to ‘adjust’ his tie.

“I think you’re negating the true beauty in the room.” He replies effortlessly, gaze locked with your own.

Your breath hitches, freezing right in your spot as you search his features. The sincerity alone that you can see shining within his eyes has your heart fluttering.

You turn away, clearing your throat. “So, should these be ready by tonight, or tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll have them ready for tonight. That way if you need to make any last minute alterations before the mission tomorrow we can do so then.” Nancy tells you, seeing you nod your understanding. “Kai will be in the same outfit as Jongin in case he gets spotted, only with a black button up to blend in better with the night.”

This time, you both nod your understanding. Of course, Nancy fails to see the way the two of you lock gazes.

You let out another sigh. 

“Well,” you step back into the change room, “better prepare for tomorrow.”

Sliding the curtain back over the rail, you slip out of the dress and back into your regular clothes. The moment you step back out, you’re handing the golden gown back to Nancy, thanking her lowly again. You notice Kai has also taken the liberty to change, handing the aforementioned female his brother���s outfit once more.

“I’ll be by later to pick them up,” you say, seeing her nod her head as she retreats back to her sewing machine for the moment.

Without another word, the two of you leave the room.

The walk to the elevators is silent, a sort of tension filling the air between the both of you. A tension which finally boils to a head when the elevator doors open to reveal Jongin laughing along with Shinobu inside. Her one hand playfully smacks his shoulder as her other covers her lower face, attempting to stifle her giggles as he grins widely. A faint blush creeps up her cheeks, her eyes shining with clear affection towards your husband.

Kai swears he sees red as he stands there, just as stiff as you as you both witness the scene before your very eyes.

Noticing the sudden tension around them, both Shinobu and Jongin turn their heads to see you and Kai standing there. Your expression remains unreadable, steeling your nerves as you step into the elevator with a curt nod to the other female. Kai, on the other hand, can barely control the shaking of his hands in anger.

The moment Shinobu scurries from the elevator, Kai is closing the distance between himself and his twin. His arm is pressed harshly across Jongin’s chest as he pins his younger brother to the back wall. 

The elevator doors slide closed.

“The fuck was that all about?” Kai hisses lowly. “Bailing on your wife to fucking flirt with your coworker? On fitting day, no less? Was that your fucking emergency?”

“Kai-“

Your somewhat exasperated reply gets cut off by Jongin shoving his twin off of him.

“You think I would be the one to cheat?” Jongin’s eyes widen slightly, his tone incredulous. “We just so happened to step into the elevator at the same time. Why are you always so adamant on finding something that isn’t there?”

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a fucking asshole, and treated you wife properly, I wouldn’t have to.” Kai spits, nothing but pure fury reflected in his gaze.

You can tell Jongin is about to reply, but your hands firmly pushing them apart stop him from going any further. You step between them, further separating the fire that continues to rage on between the two brothers.

“Enough.” You look from one male to the other. “We have a mission tomorrow, and the last thing we need is for you two to be at each other’s throats more so than usual.”

A brief silence where the tension crackles in the air like lightning before Kai is heaving a tremendous sigh.

“She’s right.” He takes a reluctant step back. “You should listen to your wife more often, it might just save your life.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jongin’s eyes are wild as he tilts his head at his brother.

“If you feel threatened, then by all means,” Kai gestures loosely towards Jongin.

Jongin’s lip part in retort before your sharp gaze is causing the words to catch in his throat. You turn to Kai.

“Thanks for covering for him today.” You say. “Him and I need to have a talk on the way home. See you tomorrow for the mission.”

Without another word, you’re hitting the button to open the elevator doors, a silent command for Kai to leave you and Jongin alone.

Reluctantly, the male exits the elevator, watching the doors close behind him with a look of pure irritation on his features. Irritation aimed directly at his twin, who only looks annoyed at this specific turn of events.

Clicking his tongue, Kai turns around. There’s not much for him to do for the moment, so he might as well release his anger doing something productive.

Heading to the shooting range, Kai rolls his shoulders. At least this way he can kill two birds with one stone: practice for the assassination tomorrow evening, and pretend he’s making his brother suffer as much as Jongin has made him throughout the years.

Oh, how Kai longs for the day where he can see that complete look of devastation wipe that smug grin from Jongin’s features. He’s fantasized how it would happen more times than he can count. The biggest being a scenario where you end up in his arms while Jongin is forced to reap the consequences of his actions. With how things are going, perhaps such a dream may come true sooner, rather than late.

Kai sighs, pulling out his favourite sniper rifle from the cage. At least once he’s done here he can prepare everything for tomorrow. After all, he never misses.

Meanwhile, back in the elevator, a tense silence settles over both you and Jongin as you ride down to the parking garage. Your arms are crossed over your chest as you refuse to so much as turn in your husband’s direction. The moment that familiar ding chimes and the doors open, you’re walking over to your car, an unreadable expression on your face.

“Come on, Darlin’,” Jongin flicks his bangs out his eyes, a look of annoyance on his features. “You seriously can’t be mad at me right now.”

“And why is that, Jongin?” You round on him, nothing but bitterness shining in your eyes as you stare at him from overtop of the car. “You left before sunrise, on a day where you knew we had somewhere to be. I understand you dislike fitting days, but do you realize what would have happened if you had been caught skipping again? Our line of work is already dangerous without having our own agency breathing down our necks and watching our every move. Do you want to be put on lockdown again?”

“We won’t be put on lockdown, again.” He sighs, exasperatedly while sliding into the passenger seat of the car. “Besides, Kai handled it just fine.”

Your nostrils flare as you move to sit in the drivers seat, slamming the door closed and pointedly starting the engine. “I’m lucky your brother even showed up.”

“Next time, you should just text him. He always seems to be at your beck and call, anyways.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, no.” You shoot him a glare out of the corner of your eyes as you pull out of the parking garage. “You don’t get to pull the jealous card here.”

“Me? Jealous of my brother?” Jongin nearly scoffs. “As if he would ever have a chance with you.”

“I don’t know, he looked remarkable in red.” You comment lowly, noticing how he stiffens almost immediately from your words. “Quite slick with his tongue, too.”

“How dare you-“

“You honest to god think I would ever cheat on you, Jongin?” Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you merge onto the highway. “After everything I’ve told you that happened with my parents? On how I feel about the matter? You think I would be capable of inflicting that type of pain on a person I love?”

“Well, when you say things like that…”

“How do you think it makes me feel to see you arrive late to work with Shinobu of all people after you run out on me claiming there’s some ‘emergency’ you have to take care of?” You counter, noticing how he averts his gaze in shame in the next second. “Do you have any idea how that looks, not just to me, but to anyone aware of the situation? I know for a fact you claimed ‘emergency’ just because you don’t want to deal with Nancy’s subtle flirtations with you. I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable around her, but the least you could do is tell me where you are. I’m your goddamn wife for fuck’s sake! You think I don’t notice when my own husband is both being hit on, and is uncomfortable by it?”

“Then, why don’t you say anything to her?” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I do!” You exclaim, voice rising in pitch slightly. “I have, and when I did, you were the one who got mad at me for bringing it up!”

Of course, he didn’t get mad at you in front of her. Only once you were behind closed doors did he say to lay off of Nancy. Turns out your husband rather enjoys the attention, more so than the discomfort it causes him. Which is why you found Kai’s reassurance today, even if it was something as simple as backing you up while pretending to be your husband, so refreshing.

Before he can respond, you’re letting out a sigh through your nose. “Either way, it looks like you don’t have to worry about her flirting with you anymore. It seems as if she’s moving on to target your brother.”

“You say that as if it bothers you.” He mumbles lowly, refusing to meet your gaze as you pull off of the highway.

“Does it not bother you?” You cannot hide how appalled you sound. “He’s your brother, for god’s sake, Jongin! Kai deserves better than that, and you know it!”

“Then, why didn’t you marry him?” He snaps, slapping his hands onto his thighs in exasperation.

You go quiet, the silence deafening inside of the car.

You swallow thickly, keeping your voice low, “Because he’s not the one I fell in love with.”

You can feel him staring at you through the stillness that settles around the both of you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” His voice is low, averting his gaze back down to his lap.

“Well, I do.” You reply quite sharply. “I know you’ve always been insecure about your brother, Jongin. It’s just not fair that you take it out on me.”

He remains quiet for the rest of the drive, still staring down at his hands.

You’re right. He knows you’re right. He’s just too proud to admit it.

Kai has always been the better twin. Smarter, funnier, more popular. Jongin cannot help but get jealous, even if he hates to admit that he does. Everything Jongin does, he does for approval, but all it seems to do is irritate Kai. He thought that following in his brother’s footsteps would make the elder like him more, but no matter what he does, he can never seem to win. 

And now he’s pulled you into that mess.

The moment the car stills in the driveway, Jongin is stepping out wordlessly. He can hear the low sigh you let out behind him as he moves to unlock the front door. Only, it seems as if he’s misplaced his keys again.

You heave another sigh, louder this time as you pull out your own keys to unlock the front door. Once inside, the two of you each head your separate ways.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent like this, a tense sort of silence between the both of you. Sure, you’ve had fights before, but never anything like this. You know Kai has always been a touchy subject for Jongin, but he’s never gone so far as to avoid you when you bring him up. Perhaps you should talk to him after you get back from picking up your outfits for tomorrow.

Only, when you step back through the door, Jongin has up and disappeared on you again. At least this time he left a note.

Needed to sort out my head. Be back in time for mission.

Letting out a sigh, you retreat to your bedroom. You might as well get as much sleep as you can before tomorrow. You have a feeling you’re going to need it.

***

Jongin doesn’t return home until an hour before you’re supposed to leave for the ballet. He walks in to see you pacing near the front, already dressed and ready for the evening assassination.

You can see the words forming on his lips, but you raise a hand into the air to stop him. “Save it. You need to get ready.”

A solemn nod is all you receive in response as Jongin retreats to the bedroom. Not even forty minutes later, he reappears, fully dressed and ready to go. 

The button up he wears beneath his open blazer is slightly larger than it should be, the white material spilling out further than it should where it’s tucked into his pants. He struggles to fix it, and you can only click your tongue in response. Nancy adjusted his outfit based on Kai’s measurements yesterday, and Jongin’s brother just so happens to be the slightest bit buffer than he is.

The clothes still fit, just not as well as they should.

Looking upwards, you finally meet his gaze.

“I won’t ask you where you’ve been.” Your first real words to him since he’s gotten back. “Whatever you needed to sort out was your business. Just-“ you let out a somewhat sad sigh, “if this isn’t working out for you anymore, Jongin, all I ask is that you don’t string me along.”

Immediately, he’s shaking his head, closing the distance between the both of you in order to take your hands gently into his.

“I-“

The front door opens, and in steps Kai.

You drop Jongin’s hands. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Kai’s brow quirks, gaze darting between the both of you, “Am I interrupting something?”

Jongin is quick to recover, the corner of his lips quirking upwards as he huffs out a laugh, “Nothing of importance.”

He fails to see the way your entire demeanour falls, but Kai doesn’t. However, before the elder male can so much as ask if you’re okay, you’re walking past him.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumble, grabbing your clutch from the front table and heading out the door.

Kai spares a brief glance over to his brother, of whom simply shrugs in response.

Letting out a deep sigh, Kai is quick to follow right behind you, shaking his head the whole while. Looks like his brother royally screwed up again, and of course, Kai will have to do damage control to clean up his mess.

As Jongin locks up, Kai takes this time to subtly lean into you.

“You look gorgeous, by the way.” He keeps his tone low, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as his eyes roam your figure.

You smile lightly. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Jongin’s pointed huff draws both of your attention. “Let’s go.”

Silently, Kai watches as you both slide into the backseat of his car. He’s supposed to act as your chauffeur this evening, and drop you off at the venue before finding a place to safely park the car and assume his position. He just hopes you can all last the night.

About halfway through the drive, you get a call from Quincy.

“Have you heard the news?” Her gruff voice sounds through the speakers of your phone, allowing the two males to hear the conversation at her instruction.

“What news?” Kai’s brow furrows.

“Both Shinobu and Nancy were found dead in their homes this morning.” She says, and you cannot prevent the way your breath hitches in your throat. “We suspect it was Don Vanderleen’s men sending a warning to us before the events of tonight. You three be extra careful, and make sure you don’t fuck this up. The last thing we need is more of our good agents being taken down.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply is somewhat breathless as she soon ends the call.

A heavy silence permeates the air between the three of you as you get closer to the theatre. The news is both sudden and shocking, causing your blood to run cold. You might not actually be prepared for what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

“Are you okay?” Jongin stares intently at you, reaching over to place a gentle hand over your own in your lap.

“Yeah.” You blink, seemingly focussing back in on the reality around you. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You fail to see the worried glance Kai sends you through the rearview mirror. Though, there’s something else hidden there, too. Something far more sinister than either of you two realize as his gaze shifts to the male offering you comforts from beside you.

“We’re almost there,” Kai states, somewhat roughly.

He clears his throat.

“The sooner we get this done, the better.” You sigh, eyes falling shut as you run a hand lightly over the side of your face. “Remember, if anything goes wrong, we rendezvous at the hotel across the street.”

“Right.” Both males respond at the same time, firmly nodding their heads once each.

Pulling up just outside of the theatre, you exhale a breath through your nose. Steeling your features into a look of determination, you motion for Jongin to exit the car.

“Let’s do this.”

The moment the car door opens, you can tell that Jongin has slipped into his persona for the evening. As he reaches back to help you exit the vehicle, you immediately do the same.

No longer are you both mister and missus Kim, but the Rover’s. Two souls madly in love with one another to the point of it becoming obnoxious to the people around you. People cannot help but to notice how you cling onto one another, giving you each the perfect alibi for when the time comes. You are to be inseparable. At least, to those around you.

Jongin is quick to wrap his arm around your waist as soon as you move to stand beside him. His touch is nothing but gentle, thumb smoothing over the material of your dress as he guides you inside. Each step is meticulous, your eyes subtly scanning the crowd for potential targets, security, and escapes routes. You all may have planned for this evening, but that doesn’t mean something couldn’t go very wrong.

Stepping up to the entrance, Jongin is quick to pull the two tickets reserved for the both of you out of the inside of his suit jacket. Wordlessly, he hands them to the concierge, whispering lowly how excited he is to spend the night with his beautiful wife.

You giggle at this, leaning in to him and placing a hand on his chest. Your own reply is low as you tell him it’s because you’re finally able to spend some time with your handsome husband that you’re able to look this good for him.

The way the concierge smiles tightly at you both while handing you both your tickets says it all. At least the act is believable.

“Enjoy the show.” He comments lowly, eyes pleading for the two of you to hurry inside.

“Oh, believe me,” your painted lips curl upwards in a sultry grin. “We will.”

You swear that were the poor man not working, he would have gagged at the way you giggle after your own words. You can tell he’s relieved to be rid of you as he holds the door open for the both of you to slip inside, nearly chuckling to yourself at his tight expression as soon as you’re passed him.

Jongin’s grip tightens slightly around your waist.

“There he is.” He leans in once more to whisper lowly in your ear, motioning to the side with his chin.

Shifting your gaze, you follow in the direction he’s pointed you in. A blink, and you see your target standing by the complimentary bar. A glass of wine rests in his grubby hands, high profile women and men surrounding him on either side. A boisterous laugh escapes him, his dark hair slicked back with grease as a wolfish grin tugs at his lips. Even from here, you can see the sheen of sweat that paints his flushed skin, and you nearly gag.

“I just hope I don’t get a single drop of that man’s vile blood on me tonight, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.” You mutter, disgust pulling at your features.

“You and me both, Darlin’.” Jongin replies, holding you tighter against him. “Are you ready?”

“If we didn’t have to interact with him all night, I would count myself blessed.” You exhale sharply through your nose. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jongin squeezes your waist reassuringly as he begins to lead you both over to that group of investors surrounding Don Vanderleen. A group which your agency painstakingly infiltrated to make both you and Jongin a part of as the Rover’s.

“Good evening, Mister Vanderleen,” you cut in smoothly into the conversation, drawing everybody’s attention as you extend your hand out for him to shake. “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes, and immediately he’s reaching out to grasp your hand in his own. Only, instead of shaking it, he brings the back up to his lips, placing what you’re sure is supposed to be a delicate kiss onto your skin.

You nearly grimace at the moist feeling left lingering on your hand, resisting the urge to wipe off the residue of the kiss this vile excuse of a man has given you. Hell, even Jongin tenses beside you.

“Ah, yes,” he hums, nodding firmly in Jongin’s direction. “You must be the Rover’s. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jongin replies, forcing a polite smile onto his lips.

“Once my dear hubby told me about the opportunities our investments could lead to with you, I couldn’t wait to meet you.” Your voice portrays the perfect mix of both enthusiasm and excitement. “He said you’d have further information for us on what this grants us in shares tonight?”

Vanderleen laughs at this, his whole chest shaking as the people around you all chuckle.

“Someone’s a little eager lily,” he grins, but it only serves to make you feel unnerved. You don’t particularly enjoy the way he continues to eye you up and down, licking his lips as if he is ready to consume you at any moment. “I promise to let both you and your husband know everything you need to know when the time is right, little missy. Preferably when we’re somewhere a little more private.”

You smile your understanding, even if it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Still, it’s enough to fool the people standing around you.

You both fall into idle smalltalk after that, conversing with the rest of his supposed investors for the evening. That is, until the doors open, and everyone is filing into their respective seats.

Jongin and you follow Don Vanderleen all the way up to the special booth that has been reserved for you this evening. Only you, your husband, your target, and three others of Vanderleen’s party have been reserved for this balcony, making it much easier for you, Jongin, and Kai to do what you’ve come here to do.

The six seats rest three to a row, you and Jongin in front, while Vanderleen’s men file in the back. Unfortunately for you, the man of the hour decides to sit on your left, and he doesn’t seem to be that big of a fan of personal space.

The only thing separating you from the male beside you is the armrest, and you choose to angle yourself as far away from him as possible without drawing suspicion to yourself. Of course, with your covers, it’s easy for you to lean as close to Jongin as possible. It simply appears as you being unequivocally in love with him, but it becomes increasingly difficult not to twitch each time the man on your left ‘accidentally’ brushes against you in some way.

Clearing your throat, you steel yourself for talking to this man once more.

“We’re somewhere more private now, Sir Vanderleen,” you comment. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Please,” he leans in closer to you, and you can smell the alcohol clinging to his rancid breath. You nearly gag. “Call me Don.”

“Alright then,” you smile politely, eyes crinkling, “Don.”

You swear you see the man shiver before you.

“Well, as you know, my company handles many different aspects of many different industries.” The moment he sees you nod eagerly, he continues, “my business covers every domain you could possibly imagine: finances, political influences,” he purposely meets your gaze, “pleasure.”

You cannot prevent the way your eyes widen naturally at this.

“Ah, I see that has caught your interest.” He chuckles, his hand resting dangerously close to you on the armrest as his fingers curl around the wood. “I suppose I could let you in on the more private aspects of our company later on. After all, you seem like a very respectable woman who knows what she wants.”

“She certainly doesn’t take things for granted,” Jongin chimes in, his arm casually settling around your shoulders as he pulls you the slightest bit closer to him. “Unlike some people.”

Something within the other male’s eyes flash, but he backs off. For now.

“I see,” he hums, settling back into his seat. “I suppose that conversation will have to wait for a different time, then.”

The lights begin to dim, the orchestra picking up their instruments in preparation for the beginning of the show.

“I suppose so.” You hum, turning your attention to the front as you settle further into Jongin’s side.

It’s almost time.

The curtain rises, and the true event finally begins.

Near the end of act one, Jongin excuses himself to the men’s room just as planned. Only, you don’t expect Don Vanderleen to take this opportunity to lean further into you.

Casually, the male replaces where Jongin’s arm had been with his own, his wandering fingers dancing along the skin of your shoulder.

You nearly shiver in disgust.

“I’d say this is more private, wouldn’t you?” He grins, keeping his voice low as he closes the remaining distance between your bodies. “Perfect timing to talk about more personal matters, if you’d like.”

No, what you’d like is to continue watching the ballet. You wish for Jongin to hurry the fuck up with clearing out Vanderleen’s bodyguards from the booth, and to get as far away from this man before the bullets start flying. However, you know that that’s not what you came here to do. You nearly sigh, putting on an expression of pure curiosity instead as you turn to face the male beside you.

“Of course,” you reply, just as lowly. “I would like nothing more.”

“This one aspect is very dear to me, I hardly tell anyone about it unless I consider them truly worthy to hear it.” He meets your gaze, a sort of lull in the way he speaks to you, as if he were speaking to a child. “What I tell you stays between us, alright little missy? This is for your ears only.”

You nod your understanding, fingers tightening over one another as you hold them stiffly in your lap.

“You see, I only offer these positions to the utmost important people who have proved they are qualified to suit my needs.” He licks his lips, gaze shamelessly roaming down your front. “It’s a personal position which guarantees you’ll never have to worry about another thing in your life.”

You have to prevent yourself from clenching your teeth in anger. You know exactly where this is leading, for this is the exact same spiel he tells all the women he tricks into signing themselves over to him to be trafficked.

“You would be living a life of complete luxury, moving from one place to another, and visiting countries of your wildest dreams.” He continues, creeping closer with each word. “You would meet so many important dignitaries. Everyone would want to be you, and everyone would desire what you have.”

“Why, this offer sounds almost too good to refuse,” you chuckle, somewhat nervously.

Jongin sure is taking his sweet time. He should be back by now, right?

“You would be foolish not to accept.” He chuckles along with you. “After all, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again. I’d take care of all of it for you, and I’m a man who never goes back on my word.” His free hand comes to settle on your knee, and this time, you cannot prevent the shiver of disgust that trails down your spine. Only, he perceives it as something else. You can just tell from the way that he smirks. “Especially not when you’d be personally working for me.”

You absolutely despise the way he drawls those words out, his rancid breath tickling the shell of your ear.

Luckily, it’s at this point that Jongin finally returns, taking note of how stiff you sit while Don Vanderleen practically drapes himself over you.

Harshly, he clears his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Vanderleen smirks, pulling away from you rather slowly, “Not at all.”

“Don was just telling me all about a special opportunity he had for me,” you say innocently as Jongin sits back in his seat to your right.

You notice both males stiffen on either side of you.

“Missy, I thought we agreed that that was to stay between us.” There’s a sudden sharpness to his gaze that you do not fail to pick up on.

“Yes, but I don’t do anything without my loving husband.” You chuckle, leaning yourself further into Jongin’s side. Your gaze darts to him, and your eyes nearly widen at the small stain of red that smudges the collar of his white shirt. Thinking quickly, you angle yourself into him, lips pressing delicately against the material and leaving a bright red lipstick stain over the mark. You blink up at him innocently. “Isn’t that right, My Love.”

“Always, My Love.” Jongin purposefully meets Vanderleen’s gaze from over the top of your head as his arms pull you in closer. “I’m sure you’d do the same to protect what’s yours.”

Vanderleen’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “Undoubtably.”

The moment the male turns back to observe the stage, all hell breaks loose.

The sound of shattering glass is synonymous with the screams of terror that suddenly fill the venue as gunshots ring throughout. People panicking and running from their seats to the exits block every chance of escape, swarming the aisle as shouting reaches your ears.

A bullet just misses your shoulder.

A loud cry of pain from your left reaches your ears, and in the blink of an eye, you feel yourself be pulled down onto the ground on top of a body. Sparing a glance downwards reveals your husband clinging to your for dear life, a fear unlike ever before shining within his gaze. Blood seeps into the material of his blazer, staining his white shirt red beneath his black suit as he holds you above him. 

To the side, Don Vanderleen bleeds out. A cough escapes him, nothing but red falling from his lips and choking him out as he reaches towards you one final time before falling dead right before your very eyes.

Another gunshot is heard from above.

Scrambling to your feet, you duck for cover behind the wall of the balcony. Jongin follows right behind, using his body as a shield to cover you this time.

“Are you hurt?” He turns to you once you’re both out of range, checking you over for injuries.

You shake your head. “Are you?”

Your eyes catch on the red now staining his clothes and your breath hitches, hands scrambling to find the injury before he bleeds out.

“Don’t worry, Darlin’,” he assures you, gently stroking his hands down the sides of your arms despite the chaos erupting around you. “It’s not mine.”

His words only help to ease your worry a fraction.

“There was another sniper.” You comment lowly.

“Kai can handle it.” He states.

At the look you send him, he sighs.

“Fine.” Jongin removes his blazer, wrapping it securely around your shoulders. “You’ve done what you came here to do. I’ll go check on him, and then I’ll meet you at the hotel across the street. Okay?”

“But-“

“Darlin’,” there’s that same look of fear in his eyes from only a few minutes ago, “I almost lost you tonight. Don’t make me go through that again.”

A silent understanding passes between the both of you, and you recognize that he’s not just referring to tonight, but yesterday as well. That fight feels like so long ago now, given the circumstances of the evening. Yet, you still find yourself nodding your head.

“I promise to be as quick as I can.” He kisses your forehead briefly.

“Be safe,” you squeeze his hands gently. “I want to be able to watch the sunset with you.”

He smiles. “As long as you stay with me for the sunrise.”

A nod is all he receives from you before he’s disappearing around the corner. He can feel his heart pounding as he races to the roof, hoping beyond everything that you manage to get out safely, and that his brother is okay.

***

Looking back on it now, this is probably the second worst night of Kai’s entire life. Sure, the male has been in some tricky situations before, but none as harrowing as this one.

First, he had to watch you be even more loving towards his brother all evening. Then, he had to sit through that filth of a man coming onto you throughout the entirety of the second act of Swan Lake. He was so distracted by his anger, that he failed to see the second presence creeping onto the roof a little ways away from him. It wasn’t until he saw the reflection of the lights upon the sniper’s watch that Kai noticed the other male taking aim directly at you.

Kai saw red, his body moving on instinct at that. It nearly cost him the mission, but more importantly, your life.

What made the situation worse was when he watched his brother pull you on top of himself for protection. The bastard couldn’t even protect you properly, opting to sacrifice you to save himself.

Now, as he wrestles off the other sniper’s back-up, he finds himself gritting his teeth in frustration. He has no idea if you got out safely, or if you’re injured. The only thing he does know, is that that bastard Don Vanderleen is finally dead.

Like hell Kai would ever let that pathetic excuse of a human live after watching what he did to you tonight.

A gunshot sounds in the night air, and Kai swears he’s about to feel the worst pain of his life. Only, at the way the man on top of him falls limply to his side, he realizes that someone is here to aid him.

“Couldn’t handle a few measly little troopers?” Jongin’s familiar mocking tone calls out through the silence. “You’re losing your touch.”

“I was doing just fine until you showed up.” Kai responds gruffly, pushing himself back to his feet and noticing all of the other henchmen have been disposed of.

“Uh-huh,” Jongin hums knowingly, a quirk to his brow as he tosses the gun in his hand to the side. “Sure.”

Kai spares a glance at his brother, noticing the blood that stains his once pure white shirt. He freezes, eyes locking on that mark of bright red lipstick that practically glares at him from the collar of Jongin’s shirt.

“Is that-“ the words get stuck in his throat. He swallows.

At the way his elder twin keeps glancing at the blood on his shirt, Jongin is quick to understand what he’s asking.

“I know, right?” Jongin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Disgusting. The bastard bled all over me.”

Kai nearly lunges at his brother, but he realizes Jongin isn’t actually talking about you. He clears his throat. “And our partner?”

“My wife is fine, thanks for asking.” Jongin replies, a dry huff escaping him. “You nearly missed by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I had my hands full.” Kai begins to quickly disassemble his rifle, storing it back in its case.

“Didn’t think a few weaklings like this could slow you down.” Jongin rolls his eyes.

“I was a little busy attempting not to blow the fucker’s brains out early for assaulting your wife.” Kai snaps, his patience growing thinner by the second. “While you were off eyeing the ballerinas, I was actually doing my job.”

“You think I would risk the mission to go peep on the performers?” Jongin’s voice is incredulous. “You really think I would cheat on my wife?” 

“Now that your other two hustles are dead, I assumed you were in the market for a new one.” Kai retorts, zipping up his rifle’s case quite pointedly before slinging it onto his back.

“Never thought you’d be one to disrespect the dead, but here we are.” Jongin shakes his head. “You are so adamant on making me into the bad guy, Kai, and I just don’t understand why.”

“How can I make you into something you already are?” Kai tilts his head, almost mockingly at his brother.

“What do you think I could have possibly done this time?” Jongin replies, throwing his hands into the air exasperatedly.

“I definitely didn’t think up you pulling your own goddamn wife on top of you when bullets started flying just so you could save your own skin!” Kai’s tone is harsh, nothing but pure anger pulling at his brow. “How about that conversation I walked in on tonight. Did you or did you not practically admit to her that she was unimportant? To your own wife, nonetheless. Not to mention the countless times you’ve ignored her needs in favour of your own. Do you even know how she feels when you flirt so openly with other people around her? I can’t imagine it feels good.”

“You know nothing, Kai,” Jongin seethes, his hands clenching into fists beside him. “Stop pretending that you do.”

“Don’t I?” Kai drops his bags, the material making a dull thunk as it hits the roof. “I’ve lived with you our whole lives, Jongin. I know when you’re lying, and I know for a fact that you don’t love her. If you did, you wouldn’t do half the shit that you do.”

“How dare you say that I don’t love her!” Jongin spits back, voice low and deadly. His eyes flash with the same intensity as his brother’s across from him, the air becoming thick with tension. “I love her more than anything in this godforsaken world!”

“Like hell you do!” Kai’s fury spikes, sanity close to snapping.

“What would you know of the matter? You don’t know half the shit I’ve done for her.” Jongin hisses through gritted teeth. “I made sure to kill every fucking doubt she’s had about our relationship recently. Doubts you don’t know anything about. There’s nothing, no one in this world that loves her more than I do. I would do anything for her, and that’s more than you can say.”

Kai goes so still, he swears that he’s stopped breathing. His mind races with all that tonight has offered him. Not even a second later, his entire body begins to tremble.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is low, deadly like the approach of an oncoming storm. Already, he can see his vision blurring, fading in and out as he attempts to ground himself. “There will always be one person who will love her, who can always love her, more.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jongin scoffs, crossing his arms in front of her chest. “And just who might that be?”

A beat of silence as the two males lock eyes from across the roof.

“Me.”

Without wasting another thought, the two males lunge.

***

His breathing is uneven as he stumbles down the hallway of the hotel. The stairs were a bit of a challenge, but he figured it’d be easier and less conspicuous than taking the elevator to the top floor. Even still, his lungs burn as he braces himself against the wall, chest heaving with every breath.

Blood drips down his face and onto the white of his shirt, nearly smudging against that perfect imprint of your lips on the collar. Blood that is no longer his own. Every time he closes his eyes, he can still hear the sound of his fist on flesh, bones cracking beneath his fingers as fabric tore upon his skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, a ring glints on his finger. The light from the fluorescents makes the golden band glow, and from that simple glance alone, he can feel his heart racing inside of his chest.

The only thought on his mind right now is you. 

He needs to find you. To make sure that you’re okay. To make sure that you’re safe.

His head spins, and he can barely see through his blurring vision. He doesn’t even know how he managed to get down from the roof of the theatre and make his way to the hotel across the street, but he did. All just to see you.

Stumbling to the door, he checks the room number once more. Seeing it’s the correct one this time, he begins to jostle the knob.

Locked.

A sigh heaves from his throat, resting his forehead against the dark wood separating you from him. 

If only he still had his key.

Movement heard on the other side of the door catches his attention. A moment later, and the lock is sliding out of place, the wood opening to reveal your face gazing upon him in worry.

“Jongin,” you seemingly breathe out a sigh of relief. “Leave it to you to lose your keys again.” You shake your head lightly, pulling him inside quickly. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Not even a minute later, you’ve sat the male on the bathroom counter, a towel held in your hands as you stand between his legs.

“I was worried about you, you know.” You dip the towel in some water before beginning to gently clean the blood from his face. “I didn’t think you would take so long.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

His voice sounds a bit strained, tone a deeper than usual. You chalk that up to stress. He usually sounds this way when he’s tired.

“Are you okay?” You pause your movements to stare deeply into his eyes. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shakes his head, gaze flitting everywhere over your features as if to commit your concerned expression to memory.

“Good.” You smile lightly, continuing to clean the blood from his face. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still upset at you, by the way.”

“I’m sorry.” His response is immediate, hands coming up to cup your face gently as he meets your gaze. “For everything. I know I’m an asshole, and I can be selfish. The thought of losing you is just too difficult for me to bear, and after tonight I promise you I’ll be a better man. I’ll be the perfect husband from now on. I won’t make you doubt. I’ll treat you right, like you’ve always deserved.”

You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards slightly in amusement.

“Someone still in character?” You joke lightly, shifting the cloth to begin wiping the blood from his neck. There seems to be a small scrape near his left eyebrow, but it no longer appears to be bleeding.

Softly, he releases his hold on your face, grabbing your wrist in his one hand to halt your movements.

“Tonight has just made me realize that I need to stop taking things for granted, especially you.” He replies earnestly. “Every day, I count myself lucky that a sinner like me has been blessed to love an angel like you.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “I thought you didn’t like all that religious talk?”

He hums, pulling you the slightest bit closer to wrap his arms around your waist. If only you could hear just how fast his heart is racing. “I think I can make an exception just this once.”

“I should mark the calendar.” You tease, poking his chest. “You finally admitted your faults for once.”

His lips part dramatically. “But Darling, you know that I’m already perfect.”

“There he is,” you chuckle, shoving him playfully.

“Who?” He quirks a brow.

“My loving husband, of course.” You grin, rolling your eyes lightly.

His lips part, and he pulls you flush against his chest. Tightly, he holds you to him, his face buried into the side of your neck as his whole body shakes.

“Jongin, what’s gotten into you tonight?” You pat his back warily. “You’re awfully affectionate.”

“I told you,” he whispers lowly, “I need to appreciate what I have before it’s gone.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” You gently begin to card your fingers through his hair, hearing him hum lightly in response. “Not that easily.”

His grip tightens around your waist, absolutely revelling in this moment here with you. “I don’t deserve you.”

Immediately, you pull away to look into his eyes, a somewhat stern look on your face. “Don’t start that again.”

“What?” His brow furrows the slightest bit in confusion.

“Saying that you’re unworthy of my love.” This time, it’s you who cups his face in your hands. “You are more than worthy, Baby. Don’t ever forget that.”

You notice tears begin to well in his eyes, spilling over in the next moment. Tears which you are quick to brush away.

“You know, sometimes I cannot help but wonder,” you hum, noticing you have his complete and utter attention, “would you still have proposed if you didn’t think your brother approved of me?”

The way he tenses slightly, breath seemingly hitching in his throat has you smiling reassuringly at him.

“I know how desperately you long for his approval, Jongin, and I know that’s why you act out sometimes,” you keep your voice low. “Know that you don’t need his approval for anything. He probably doesn’t need yours, so don’t worry about his.”

All the male before you can do is blink.

“I’m proud of who you are.” You tell him, finally finishing wiping the blood from his skin. “I hope that counts for something.”

“It counts for everything,” he breathes, thumbs stroking languidly against the skin of your hips.

Again, you smile, placing the used towel in the hamper provided for you beside the sink.

“He’s okay, though, right?” You search his features, noting the irritated twitch of his brow. “You managed to find him on the roof?”

“I didn’t see him,” he replies, somewhat gruffly.

Your head tilts slightly, brow furrowing in worry. “I thought the whole reason I sent you up to the roof in the first place was so you could make sure he was okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Darling.” A sigh escapes him through his nose. “It’s not like he hasn’t up and disappeared on you before.”

“On us, Jongin.” Your frown deepens, turning to exit the bathroom. “Maybe I should call him just in case.”

A hand on your wrist stops you.

“Why do you care so much about him, anyways?” There’s something shining behind his eyes that you don’t quite understand, but you turn around to face him regardless.

“I thought we talked about this, Jongin.” You sigh lowly. “Kai is still your brother. I care about him in the same ways I know you care about him. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I know you worry about him.”

“He didn’t care about me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” You meet his gaze with a stern one of your own. “Your brother-“

“Can we please stop talking about my brother?” The exasperation is clear in his voice as he practically pleads with you using his eyes.

Your expression softens, “Of course, Baby.”

The male seemingly breathes a sigh a relief, releasing his hold on your wrist not even a moment later.

“Why don’t you grab a shower, and then we can head to bed?” You turn to the cabinet to pull out a fresh set of towels. “We’ve both had a long day.”

“Will you join me?” Before he can stop himself, the words are out of his mouth.

Turning to look at him from over your shoulder, you smile, repeating your words from a mere minute earlier, “Of course, Baby.”

Grabbing another set of fresh towels, you place them both on top of the counter. Even though you already showered off before he returned, you don’t mind joining your husband one bit. Besides, he looks like he could use your company.

By the time you’ve turned back around, he’s already undone all the buttons on his shirt, his torso on full display. You couldn’t really tell before, but it’s as if his shirt suddenly had fit him better, unlike at the beginning of the evening. Either way, you shamelessly trail your gaze over his front, watching with a darkening gaze as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

The way his breath hitches as he looks up to see you already staring at him with hooded eyes does not go unnoticed by you.

“What?” The corner of your lips quirk upwards. “Am I not allowed to admire my husband from time to time?”

He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “You can admire me anytime you’d like, Darling.”

A tender smile is all he receives from you in response as you move to turn on the shower. Testing the water, you make sure it’s a desirable temperature before ridding yourself of your own clothes.

The whole time you strip, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. You can feel your whole body warm beneath his stare, even more so when you turn to face him.

There he stands, looking completely mesmerized by you. He’s gazing at you as if you hung each and every single star in the night sky personally just for him, his eyes shining with the deepest form of admiration you’ve ever seen him give you. It makes you feel shy, darting your gaze to the side briefly to avoid the intensity of his own.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, stepping into the shower shortly afterwards.

He follows right behind, humming lightly. “Like what?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen me naked before,” you chuckle, turning to face him and poking him lightly on his chest.

He stands beneath the spray of water, feeling it cascade down the planes of his back as he meets your gaze. He quirks a brow, never shifting his eyes from your own for one second, “Am I not allowed to admire my beautiful goddess that has chosen to fully reveal herself to a sinner like me?”

You can feel your cheeks heating, and you know it’s not from the steam of the shower. “Again with the religious talk?”

“Maybe I’m a changed man.” He grins, hands finding purchase gently on your hips, but never wandering.

A fact which you find quite peculiar at the moment, for you know Jongin would take every and any opportunity to squeeze your ass while you’re both naked in the shower.

“You’re certainly acting like it,” your hands settle on the skin of his shoulders, sliding upwards to caress his neck, followed immediately by you cupping his face gingerly as you stare into his eyes.

“I thought I told you that I was going to start appreciating you more.” He hums knowingly. “After all, you deserve no less.”

Again, your brow quirks teasingly. “Okay, Mister Rover.”

He simply smiles in response, the familiar crinkling of his eyes offering you comfort during this time.

Nothing more is said between the both of you as you wash each other beneath the warmth of the water. Every touch is careful, tender in the way his fingers caress your skin. What’s even more surprising is that he watches your reactions carefully, never lingering too long on your ass or your breasts more than is necessary. A stark contrast to what you’re used to with him, but it’s quite nice for a change. Refreshing, in a way. Something you have always longed for with him.

Softly, your fingers massage his scalp as you wash his hair. His eyes flutter shut, absolutely revealing in such a tender moment with you here in time.

All too soon, you’re both stepping out of the shower. You hand him one of the towels as you begin to dry yourself off, noticing how his gaze still never leaves your form. Only, his gentle touch halts you before you can get very far.

“Here,” he takes the towel from your hands, his already secured around his waist as water droplets cascade down his chest. “Let me.”

His touch is soft as the plushness of the towel caresses your form. He starts at your shoulders, sliding the cloth down each arm individually before bringing your hands up to place a kiss upon the back of them both times. Then, he’s moving down your torso, thumbs smoothing over the fabric as he dries your chest. The way he cups your breasts is so tender, your nipples hardening from his ministrations as you nearly let out a low moan.

He steps closer.

Everywhere that towel graces your skin, his loving gaze is quick to follow. There is not a single part of you that goes untouched, that he has not touched before, but this is the most intimate moment you think you’ve ever shared with him. Never has he caressed you like this before. Hell, never has he gazed upon you like this before.

Selfishly, you never want it to stop.

The sound of the towel being dropped onto the floor draws your attention. His hands rest on your waist, fingers trembling against your skin as he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“You are perfect in every way, Darling. Did you know that? Perfect, and so, so, so, so, so beautiful.”His voice is barely above a whisper, but you still hear him loud and clear. He sighs your name so tenderly, as if it is a gospel upon his lips and only you can offer him rapture. “I love you. So goddamn much.”

Your expression softens, hand coming up to cup the side of his face as you stare down at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Please, Darling,” his grip tightens ever so faintly around your waist, “may I touch you? May I kiss you, and make love to you like you’ve always deserved? I want to treat you right, and make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you.”

Your heart positively flutters at his words, breath catching in your throat.

“Please?” He’s close to begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. This night has already been everything that he could have ever asked for, and so much more.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. He actually asked this time.

The answer escapes you before you even have the chance to think about it, tears of content welling in your eyes. 

“Yes.” You nod vigorously. “Yes, you may.”

The smile that stretches across his features is nothing short of brilliant, staring up at you with nothing but awe reflected in his gaze. Slowly, his hands slide down your waist, settling onto the sides of your thighs as he leans into you.

Softly, he places his lips upon your skin. Starting at about your mid-thigh, he takes his time trailing gentle kisses up your body, hands holding you steady. You cannot tell who’s shaking more, you or him, but at the feeling of his tongue darting out to soothe over your skin, you find that you don’t particularly care.

Each press of his lips against you is meticulous, nothing more than a gentle caress as he ascends your figure, muttering praises all the while.

“Your curves are hypnotizing, Darling.” He breathes against your skin, hands trailing along your sides as if to emphasize his words. 

“I adore your thighs. They’re so soft and warm, and attached to the most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen.” He brings his one hand down to give your flesh an appreciative squeeze, fingers sinking delicately into your skin.

Gently, his hands find purchase on your waist once more as he trails kisses all along your stomach, breathing deepening with each one. The press of his lips becomes more desperate with every meeting against your flesh, beginning to sensually lave his mouth over you the further upwards he gets.

Darting his gaze upwards, he sees you already staring down at him with hooded eyes. Your breathing has deepened, and your lips are slightly parted. What makes this moment even better is the way your hand comes up to lightly begin threading your fingers through his still damp hair.

He hums, licking a strip up your body starting from your mid-torso to between your breasts. Gently, he nuzzles against your chest, nose brushing against your skin as he moves to settle his face into the side of your neck.

“There isn’t a part of you that has not captivated me from the very first glance,” he whispers lowly against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to be able to fully appreciate you, Darling.”

You’re sure he can feel the way your heart stutters from his words alone, feeling him smile against the skin of your neck.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “Shall we move this to the bed?”

This time, there is no mistaking the way he smiles as he pulls back to stare lovingly into your eyes. “I would love nothing more.”

Grasping your hand in his, he leads you out of the bathroom. His towel has long since fallen from his hips, and you take the time to admire his broad backside as he walks back out into the main area of the room.

To the side, your dress hangs. Not a single spec of blood can be seen, juxtaposed to the black suit jacket which had dripped a lethargic pool of red onto the floor.

“You know,” you hum, drawing his attention to you once more as your eyes shine playfully, “my husband’s got a nice ass.”

The corners of his lips quirk upwards slowly, mirth dancing in his orbs as he helps you settle onto the bed. “It matches my wife’s perfect one.”

You slap his arm lightly as he craws over you, grins dancing on both of your features. 

“Jongin!”

You swear the male above you flinches, but before you can say anything, his forehead pressing against your own draws your attention.

“I would prefer if you didn’t call me that tonight, Darling.” His voice is but a quiet whisper upon your ears.

You blink, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. This isn’t the first time he’s wanted you to call him something else in the bedroom, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. “Then, what would you like me to call you tonight, Baby?”

He takes a moment before he answers, and you cannot tell if it’s in hesitation, or if he actually has to think about it.

“My Love.” He finally seems to settle on a response. “I want you to call me yours. Your one and only. Your love.”

You smile softly, fingers back to threading through his hair. “I can do that.”

The way his eyes light up in excitement makes you chuckle fondly.

“As long as you do the same for me.” 

You can feel the way his semi-erect cock twitches against the skin of your thigh from your words.

“I would love nothing more.” His voice is breathless, the deepest of affections shining within his gaze.

“Oh?” You quirk a brow at this, a teasing lilt to your tone. “And here I was thinking I’d have to beg you for it like the last time.”

He tilts his head slightly, amusement dancing on his features. Though, you swear you see his eyebrow twitch.

“I thought you didn’t like using those types of endearments in the bedroom?” Your expression is nothing but playful as your fingers still in his hair.

“Changed man, remember?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead. “I said I would take care of you, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. In every and any way imaginable.”

“I suppose so,” you hum, pulling him closer into you.

“Now, My Love,” he stares deeply into your eyes as he licks his lips, gaze darting down to your own briefly, “may I kiss you?”

Once more, your heart swells inside of your chest, a pleasant warmth flooding your veins. You nod your head, “You may.”

His lips are on your own without another thought, pouring everything he is into the kiss. His one hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking tenderly against your skin as he slowly grinds himself into you. The way you moan into his mouth makes his head spin.

Reluctantly, he parts from your lips, trailing his own back down your neck. Lightly, he nips at your skin, sucking gently until he finds that one spot that has you moaning for him again. Once he finds it, he cannot help but smile, laving his tongue over your flesh before suckling at the spot eagerly.

Sensually, he places open mouthed kisses all along your collarbones and down your chest. His hands hold onto your waist firmly, grounding him to you and the beautiful reality before him. His thumbs barely ghost along the undersides of your breasts, yet still, he waits for your permission.

The moment you nod, practically begging him with your eyes to touch you, his hands are on your breasts. Eagerly, he palms the tender flesh, giving them each an appreciative squeeze as he trails more open mouthed kisses between them. His thumbs move to trace over your pert nipples, circling them gently as he moans against your skin.

“So beautiful,” he trails kisses over the swell of your one breast, tongue darting out to trace over the same path shortly after. He gives them another appreciative squeeze. “So soft.”

Carefully, his mouth envelopes your one nipple, sucking eagerly at the pert bud. His tongue flicks over your skin, moaning around you as he feels you arch into his touch.

He can never get enough.

Reluctantly, he parts from you only to languidly trail open mouthed kisses to your other breast. Of course, he makes sure to give your other nipple the same amount of attention, rolling the one he’s just parted from slowly between his thumb and index finger.

“My Love,” the blissful sigh you breathe out has him twitching against you once more, his heart stuttering inside of his chest.

He moans, grinding his hips into your own and letting you feel every inch of his hard cock pressed against you.

Your breath hitches, tossing your head back as your eyes flutter shut.

“Do you feel that, My Love?” His voice is low, airy as he continues to nip at the tender skin of your breast all the while. “Do you feel how hard you make me? How hard you always make me, even just from the thought of you? You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Baby,” your grip tightens in his hair, pulling him closer into you. “Kiss me.”

Who is he to deny the one he loves?

In an instant, his lips are back on your own. Tenderly, his tongue caresses yours, holding you close as he continues to grind himself into you. The movement of his hips are almost synonymous with the movement of his tongue, sensually meeting yours every time.

Each sound you make, every reaction you give him, he absolutely revels in. The fact that he is the one to elicit such sinful sounds, such beautiful reactions from you, has a warmth unlike any other flooding his chest. Still, his head spins and his heart races, hands continuing to explore your body eagerly, yet sensually at the same time.

The moment he feels you wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer, he nearly comes on the spot. Only, the feeling of you pushing on his chest halts his every move.

“What are you doing?” His brow furrows as he pulls away the slightest bit to look at you.

“This is usually around the time where you tell me to suck you off, is it not?” You blink up at him, brow furrowing in mild confusion. “Do you not want me to?”

He practically stares down at you, dumbfounded. A moment later, he’s blinking quite rapidly, as if coming back to the reality before him.

“I thought I told you that tonight is all about you,” he can tell that his answer catches you off guard, for now, you are the one staring at him in mild shock. “Besides, I’d rather see you falling apart on my tongue.”

You blink at him a few times, as if in a daze. “You want to eat me out?”

“More than anything,” he practically pants out his answer, chest heaving as he slowly begins to descend your body. His eyes are dark, locked on your face as he places wet, open mouthed kisses against your skin the whole while. Once he’s settled between your legs, he licks his lips, hands eagerly spreading you open for him as his fingers dig into the skin of your thighs. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dying for a taste.”

Your breath hitches, and your thighs twitch, feeling yourself clench around nothing from his words alone. A movement which you know he picks up on, for you can see the way his lips tug upwards smugly as his dark eyes dart to your core.

“I thought-“ you blink your surprise away, “I thought you didn’t like giving head?”

He licks his lips, pulling you in closer as he meets your gaze.

“I lied.”

The second those words escape him, his lips are on you, and the way your whole body shudders does not go unnoticed by him. He smirks, hearing you sigh in pleasure.

A loud moan falls from him as his tongue drags through your wet folds, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Gently, he laves his entire mouth over your pussy, sucking eagerly at your essence all the while. Each movement of his tongue is precise, parting your folds only to flick at your swollen clit in the next moment. He is shameless, and messy, slurping at your wetness as he pulls you closer into him.

The whole time, he never breaks eye contact with you. The heat from his gaze travels straight to your core, and you cannot help the way you clench around his tongue as he circles your lower lips. You can feel the tips of his fingers digging into your skin, holding you down as his nails prick your hips. A sensation unlike anything you’ve felt with him before.

His plump lips kiss over your clit, the ghost of his touch sending little jolts of electricity racing up your spine. Not even a moment later, he wraps them around that pert little bud, suckling as he flicks his tongue over you once more.

You cannot help it. Your one hand moves to tangle in his hair, hips shifting against his mouth with his every movement. Your eyes flutter shut, breathless moans escaping you as the wet sounds of his mouth fully devouring you reach your ears. He seems to be enjoying this even more than you are, and you can feel yourself clenching just from that thought alone.

“So fucking sweet, Baby,” he moans directly over your core, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles up your spine. “Best I’ll ever have.” Something within his eyes flash. “Only one I’ll ever need.”

A moan of his name nearly escapes you, but you catch yourself just in time. The last time you disobeyed his wishes in the bedroom, he left you high and dry for weeks. The last thing you want is for him to stop now. Not when he’s finally eating you out like you’ve always dreamed about. Just like you’ve always wanted him to. Especially not when he’s getting this lost in your pussy.

“Fuck, My Love, just like that,” you sigh, nothing but bliss pulling at your features as you tug him in closer by his hair.

He moans, tongue lapping eagerly at your juices which continuously flow from you like the sweetest nectar he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. He never wants this to end, becoming addicted to the desperate way your hips grind against his mouth, seeking more of him.

His grip tightens, moans bordering on low growls as his dark eyes consume every reaction you give him. Slowly, he begins grinding himself down on the mattress, seeking any sort of friction to relieve the aching of his hard cock. Seeing you like this, and knowing you’re seconds away from falling apart because of him and him alone has his head spinning. 

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, feeling the way your essence begins to drip down his chin as he becomes drunk on you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, thighs tossed over his shoulders as he pulls you in closer. His grip is desperate, as if you might disappear from him at any moment, only emphasized by the eager way he sucks your clit back between his lips. Not even a second later, he’s shaking his head lightly from side to side, mouth eagerly consuming every drop you have to offer him.

“Fuck yes- just like that,” your voice is airy, lips parting as your moans begin to increase in pitch. Your eyes squeeze shut in bliss. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”

The deepest of browns gaze at you with nothing but tender love and affection, pleading you with his eyes to fall apart. He’s just as desperate as you are, moaning against you unabashedly with each movement of his lips. Every flick of his tongue is precise, focussing all his attention to your clit now, and begging you to come for him, even without saying it.

His one hand reaches up to intertwine your fingers of your free hand with his own. Gently, he squeezes them, reassuring you that he’s right here, and that you can let yourself go. He needs to see you fall apart for him. Because of him. Him, and only him.

Not even ten seconds later, you do.

Your thighs tremble as your back arches off of the bed, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm crashes into you. A loud moan escapes you, hands subconsciously tightening their holds on him for support as your entire body thrums with pleasure. The euphoric sensation is unlike anything that you’ve felt before, and you can feel yourself rhythmically clenching around nothing as you come down from your high.

Languidly, he hums between your legs, loving how he can feel them continuing to shake around his head as he laps gently at your cunt. No drop is to go to waste, needing to clean up the mess he’s made of you, and making sure he does so well. Only when he begins to feel you lightly pushing his head away from your quivering entrance does he pull away from you.

He meets your gaze, a primal sort of lust shining within his own as he licks his lips.

“Goddamn addictive, you know that?” He places tender kisses onto the skin of your inner thigh, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh all the while. “I have half the mind to tell you to sit on my face right this very second so I can continue getting lost in this beautiful pussy of yours, Darling.”

The way you clench from his words alone does not go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, My Love?” The grin that pulls at his lips, still shining with your essence, is nothing short of feral. “Smothering me with your dripping cunt so I have no choice but to give you the loving you deserve.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your eyes searching his own as your lips remain parted. “You’ve been holding out on me this whole goddamn time? Who knew you were this desperate for my pussy.”

“I’m always desperate for you, My Love. In any and every way possible.” He hums, kissing his way back up your body until he can nuzzle his face back into the side of your neck, nipping at the shell of your ear. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to show you.”

“You’re showing me now, and that’s all that matters.” You bring a hand up to cup his cheek tenderly, noticing how he immediately leans into your touch.

“I’m here now, and you never have to worry about anything ever again.” His eyes flutter shut, a content sigh escaping him. A moment later, he’s turned his head, placing a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand. His eyes open, and your breath hitches as the darkness you can see swirling within. “Now, let me love you like you’ve always deserved.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, sensually moving against you as he shifts his hips to fully settle between your legs. Naturally, your thighs part to offer him unrestricted access, soft hums falling from you as you pull him in closer. You part only to begin trailing your own lips down his neck, biting and suckling on his skin as his breathing deepens.

“Baby,” the soft drawl from your lips catches his attention, “you’ve already done so much for me tonight. Won’t you let me love you, too?”

A guttural groan escapes him, head falling forward so that his forehead rests against yours.

“Lay on your back, Baby,” your hands slide tenderly down his spine as you move to flip your positions. “Just relax, and let me take care of you.”

The way his honeyed locks look splayed out on the pillow accentuate his golden features beautifully. His warm, brown eyes reflect nothing but awe and love as he stares up at you, his lips parting with every breath that falls from them.

“I thought-“

“Shh,” you bring a finger to his lips, your own tugging upwards in a sultry grin, “This is still about me. Only now, I wish to please my husband just as he has pleased me.”

A shudder wracks his entire body, a moan tumbling from his lips at your words.

You smile.

Gently, your fingers begin to dance along the skin of his chest, nails teasingly raking down his torso as you sit above him. Just as he did with you, you begin placing kisses all over his tanned skin, biting your marks for all to see.

“You’re so handsome, Baby,” your tongue comes out to soothe over a particularly harsh bite you’ve just given him. Not that he seems to mind from the way he’s keening beneath you. “Always looking as if you were sculpted by the gods, and all just for me.”

You feel his cock twitch beneath you as he moans shamelessly, “Just for you.”

Slowly, your hands trail up his sides, feeling the way he shivers beneath your touch. At the same time, you begin to grind yourself down onto his aching cock, hearing how he moans for you as you do so.

Without wasting another moment, you take his hard cock into your hand, pumping him a few times as you line him up with your entrance. You tease him, dragging the head through your wet folds a few times before you purposely grind the tip against your clit. The way his fingers dig into your skin says it all.

“Please, Darling,” his chest heaves with every breath, barely able to hold himself together, “Don’t tease me like that.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards, beginning to sink yourself down on his cock. Still, you cannot help but to tease him, sliding yourself a few inches down, only to lift yourself back off of him shortly after. Each time you do this, you sink lower and lower, noticing how his gaze rests transfixed on the space where your two bodies meet. His breathing comes in jagged pants, clinging onto you for dear life.

Finally, you decide he’s had enough teasing for now, and you slide all the way down. The way he feels fully sheathed inside of you has moans falling from both of your lips, your warm walls pulsing around him almost in time with his heartbeat.

Did he suddenly get bigger? The stretch you’re so used too feels the slightest bit different, as if his cock is even thicker than you remember. Perhaps he’s just that hard.

The feeling of his thumbs stroking lightly over the skin of your thighs grounds you back to the reality before you. His touch is nothing short of tender, and you cannot help the way your heart races from that fact alone.

“Are you okay, Darling?” There’s nothing but deep affection shining within his gaze as he look up at you in awe.

You nod your head. “Are you okay, My Love?”

“Never better.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides as you feel him throbbing within you. “You can move whenever you’re ready, Darling.”

The only response he gets from you is the twitching of your lips upwards before your hips are shifting against his own.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head for the second time tonight, his fingers pressing desperately into your skin. The feeling of your warm cunt sucking him in, your essence dripping down his shaft and onto his skin makes his head spin.

He did this to you. Only he can make you feel this way, and for that, he could not be prouder than he is in this very moment. Only he knows how to please you in such intimate, intricate ways. Ways he’s only every dreamed about.

Finally, all of his wishes are coming true.

He meets your gaze.

“I love you.” His voice is breathless, his own touch gentle on your hips as he helps to guide your movements over him. “I love you so fucking much.”

Again, you smile, humming to yourself as you look down at him in adoration. “I know.”

“Do you-“ he swallows thickly, “Do you love me, too?”

Your expression softens, slowing your pace for the moment. “You know that I do.”

“Say it.” His words are a near whimper on his lips. “Please, My Love, I need to hear you say it.”

“Baby-“

“Say you love me.” His grip tightens, almost desperately on your hips. “Even if it’s just for tonight. Please, say you love me.”

You cup his face in your hands, leaning over him as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I am so in love with you, Baby.” You breathe out, stilling above him. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

“I never want you to stop.” His hands begin to creep up your back, pulling you flush against him.

“Then, I won’t.” You hum, placing a kiss right above his racing heart.

“Please, My Love,” he whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut as he fights off his tears for the time being. “Say it again.”

Immediately, you comply. “I love you, Baby.”

He flips your positions, sensually grinding his hips into yours as he moans lowly.

“One more-” He pleads, voice catching in his throat. He rest his forehead against your own as his one hand comes up to intertwine with yours. “One more time.”

“I love you.”

Slowly, his hips roll into your own, letting you feel every inch of his cock pressing against your walls with every movement he makes. He’s in no rush, wanting to savour this moment, this feeling here with you for as long as he can. This is everything that he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he gets to experience it with you.

After all, everything that he is, everything that he does, is for you.

Blissful sighs escape you with each movement of his hips, only emphasized by the way he grinds himself into you each time he’s fully sheathed inside of you once more. His one hand holds onto your own desperately, fingers interlaced with yours as he presses his body against you in every way that he knows how.

A single touch isn’t enough, he needs to feel all of you. A simple glance is too fleeting, he needs to have your attention focussed only on him at all times.

“Look at me, Baby,” his deep voice draws your gaze to his own. “Keep your eyes on me.”

A choked whimper escapes you, your free hand desperately clawing at his back to draw him in closer to you. 

The feeling of your nails raking over his shoulders is a sensation unlike any other, and it has him twitching inside of you yet again. He can never get enough of you. Nothing will ever be enough. Not when it comes to you.

“You’re so pretty,” he nips lightly at your jawline, thrusts becoming the slightest bit sharper as he continues to grind himself into you. “So pretty spread out beneath me, letting me take care of you like this.”

A gasp escapes your lips as the head of his cock brushes against such a tender spot within you.

“Oh? Is that it?” He shifts his hips, angling his cock to grind against that spot once more. The way you keen into him, walls clenching involuntarily around him has a smile tugging at his features. “Am I making you feel good, Baby?”

“So good,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as he continues to sensually roll his hips into yours. Your breath hitches, “Yes, just like that.”

Softly, he begins to press kisses against your skin, tongue soothing over everywhere he can as he claims you in every way he knows how.

“So beautiful for me,” he hums. “Letting me take care of you like this.”

He can tell there’s a word beginning to form on your lips, but you bite them to keep it from spilling out. He bites down the slightest bit harder on your neck, thrusts increasing in pace as he desperately needs to hear you say it.

“Go on, My Love,” he encourages lowly. “Let it out. Let it all out.”

A desperate moan escapes you, pulling him closer. “Mine.”

His hips stutter against your own, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as his brow furrows. His heart feels as if it’s about to beat right out of his chest, grip growing all the more tighter on your body.

“Yours, Baby.” His head falls against your own as he snaps his hips into your own a little more sharply now. “All yours, and I always will be.”

Your breath hitches at that, and he notices you staring at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Am I-“ your voice is small, innocent, as if suddenly uncertain of yourself. “Am I yours?”

His heart swells inside of his chest, a loving smile pulling at his features.

“Forever, Baby.” He kisses you, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips against your own. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own. “You will always be mine.”

This time, it’s you who pulls him down for a kiss. The way your tongues move against one another is desperate, moaning into each other’s mouths as he begins to pick up his pace.

His hips snap into your own, adjusting his position slightly so that he can bring his free hand down between your bodies to begin flicking at your clit.

Your eyes fall shut, head being tossed back as a low whine escapes your throat. Your thighs begin to twitch around his waist, holding him desperately to you he kisses you like his life depends on it. Which, to him, it does.

Gently, his thumb circles over that sensitive little nub, feeling your walls beginning to spasm around him in time with his thrusts. You can tell that you’re getting close, that familiar tightening building within your abdomen with every move that he makes.

“Oh, fuck- just like that, Baby,” you whimper against him, clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t stop- you’re gonna make me-“

A desperate keen escapes your lips as your whole body stills. Not even a moment later, your entire form trembles in his embrace, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you. Whimpers and whines continuously escape you as he helps you ride you through your high. He holds you as close as he possibly can, feeling your walls clenching around him, squeezing him so sinfully as his hips begin to stutter.

Not even a moment later, he stills inside of you, releasing deep into your warmth as he moans your name. He can feel his cock twitching inside of you, lazily thrusting a few more times before grinding his hips into your own.

Every movement, every touch, you both are sensitive to, breaths mingling as you attempt to heave air into your lungs. A second later, and he’s collapsing on top of you, his skin sticking to yours as he holds you close. 

Gently, you begin to card your fingers of your free hand through his hair.

“So good to me,” you hum lightly. “So, so good to me.”

“Only for you, Darling.” He places a tender kiss onto the skin of your chest. “Only for you.”

“I love you, Baby.” You manage to catch his gaze, watching as it shines with nothing but adoration for you.

“I love you.” He breathes, finding enough strength to lift himself up in order to kiss you deeply once more.

Slowly, he pulls himself out of you, the both of you whining at the loss of contact. Almost immediately, he goes to wrap you in his arms, but you standing from the bed draws his attention.

“Where are you going?” He pouts, following your figure as you retreat back to the bathroom.

“To pee, what does it look like I’m doing, silly.” You giggle. “I don’t want to get another UTI like the last time.”

The way his brow furrows slightly has you giggling once more as you disappear into the bathroom. Not even two minutes later, you’re reappearing, a damp cloth held in your hand.

He looks at you curiously, “Shouldn’t I be doing that for you?”

You nearly snort out a laugh. “When have you ever done that for me?”

His gaze is nothing but soft as he watches you clean him up, your touch soothing against his heated skin. The care you extend towards him makes his heart swell, and he cannot help but fall deeper for you in that very moment.

Just as you return to the bathroom to disposed of the cloth, he moves to open the mini-fridge. Pulling two bottles of water out, he immediately hands one to you once you return to him.

“Drink.” A firm nod is sent your way at the skeptical look you shoot him.

Wordlessly, you obey, sitting back on the edge of the bed after pulling the covers back. Once you’ve had your fill of water, you’re placing the bottle onto the bedside table, right beside your phone.

A warmth at your back has you sparing a glance at the male behind you from over your shoulder. His hands lightly trail over your shoulders, rubbing tenderly against your skin as he places gentle kisses against the side of your neck.

“Are you okay, My Love?” His voice is low, so as not to disturb the quaint moment between the both of you. “Sore anywhere? Stiff? Tender?” He hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “I could give you a massage if you want?”

You blink, caught off guard by his inquiry. Normally, it’s you who has to give him a massage after sex, not the opposite way around. The fact that he even offered has your heart racing pleasantly inside of your chest.

“I’m alright,” you place a loving hand over his arm, of which settles over the skin of your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Are you okay?”

You take the time to face him now, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Never better.” He smiles, cupping your face gently in his one hand. “Lay with me for a while, yeah?”

You mirror his expression, lips pulling upwards tenderly as you nod.

A moment later, the two of you are laying yourselves beneath the sheets, your head resting over his chest as he holds you close. His one hand holds your own, fingers intertwined as his other strokes calmly over your spine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask him after a few minutes of silence. “You’ve been acting different all night.”

“Have I?” He hums, almost knowingly. “Maybe I’ve just realized that I never appreciated the love of my life like she’s always deserved. You are everything to me, Darling, and I hope you never forget that.”

“You’ve been smooth talking all night. Since when have you been known to enjoy all of this ‘lovey-dovey, romantic crap’ as you’ve so put it before?” You quirk a brow at him, shifting your gaze to look up at his face.

“But you like it, do you not?” He hums, hand continuing to stroke tenderly over your spine.

“I do.” You hum in confirmation. “But when have you ever been known to do things like this for me?”

He remains silent, and you believe he’s actually contemplating your words. A surprising fact, considering he would normally scoff and retort with something like, ‘I always do things for you.’

Your heart warms for the moment, choosing to revel in his embrace and the way he doesn’t seem to fight you on this. It’s quite refreshing, and you wish it could be like this all of the time, but you know that by tomorrow, he’ll probably be back to his regular self.

You sigh, somewhat wistfully.

“What is it?” He hums, sparing a glance down at you resting in his arms.

“No retort, and you’re actually listening to me and my desires for once?” You reply, somewhat blissfully. “I wish you were always like this.”

“Like what, My Love?” There he goes with that term of endearment you’ve always been fond of. A term which he never really used to enjoy before tonight, it seems.

“My perfect lover.” 

You swear that this night is too good to be true. A sentiment that is unknowingly shared by the male that holds you even tighter while laying in bed with you. Yet, for you both, neither of you particularly want this night to end.

With that thought, you allow yourself to fall asleep, succumbing to the darkness pulling you deeper into an unconscious abyss. Besides, you’ll probably wake up in the morning to this having all been a dream. A beautiful, blissful dream which has fulfilled all of your deepest desires.

Morning comes, and instead of waking from the dream like you thought, you are awoken to the sound of your phone buzzing on the side table. Groggily, you blink the sleep from your eyes, bringing your hands up to rub them in the next moment. 

You can feel a weight pressing against your back, and when you turn your head, you see the sleeping face of your lover staring back at you. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at a moment’s notice.

You must have shifted your positions overnight, you turning onto your side with him following right behind, even unknowingly. Still, it takes you a good minute to wiggle out of his embrace, hearing him groan in annoyance as he turns onto his back. Luckily, he appears to stay inside of the realm of dreams, even as your phone begins to vibrate with a call once more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you grab the device. One look at the screen and your eyes are going wide, standing from the mattress as you answer the call.

“Hello?” Your voice is still rough from sleep, that much you can tell, even as you speak into the receiver.

“Finally! We’ve been attempting to contact you all morning!” Quincy can be heard through the speaker as you quickly toss on some pants and a shirt. “We have an emergency.”

“What’s going on?” Your brow furrows, mind focusing more on the scenery around you finally.

“We found a body this morning.” She states.

“Yes, Don Vanderleen has been dealt with as of last night.” You confirm, wondering where this is all going.

Nothing could have prepared you for the next words out of her mouth.

“No, it’s not just his body.” Quincy sighs pointedly. “We found Jongin’s body. Well, what’s left of it.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“As your superior, I would never lie to you over these types of matters.” She states, rather firmly.

“That’s impossible, because I’m staring at him right now.” You reply, tone a bit harsh at being woken up with something like this. “You must have found Kai’s body instead.”

“Genetics confirms that it was Jongin’s body.” She sighs. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat unpleasantly, seeing the male on the bed beginning to rouse the longer that you’re on the phone.

“No,” you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re wrong.”

A tremendous sigh is heard on the other end of the phone. “There was no mole on the back of his neck. I would send you the photos forensics took, but I fear it may be too soon for you to see.”

“This can’t be happening.” You mumble, running a hand over your head desperately.

“I’m sorry.” Quincy sighs once more. “I’ll call you again when I have more details. As his wife, I thought you should be the first to know.”

Without waiting for a response, she hangs up, and you are force to watch who you assume to be your husband finally awaken to the world around him.

The male sits up, rubbing lightly at his eyes. Slowly, he lets his arms fall back to the bed, blinking the remaining sleep from his vision. You notice his gaze darts slightly around the room, brow furrowing in minor confusion before he turns his attention to you standing in the corner. As soon as he sees you, his eyes are widening ever so slightly before a smile of almost pleasant disbelief is painting his features.

He runs his fingers through his hair.

It seems as if he thought all of last night had been a dream, too.

“Good morning, Darling-“

“How dare you call me that.” Your voice is low as the first of your tears begin to trail down the side of your cheeks.

Immediately, worry crosses his features, the male shifting to move closer to you and comfort you in any way he can.

“Don’t come any closer!” You raise a hand, halting him right in his tracks.

“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” His eyebrows furrow, nothing but concern shining in his eyes. Eyes which plead desperately for you to tell him what’s going on.

You swallow thickly. There’s only one way you know to prove that Quincy spoke true.

“Turn around.” You keep your voice low, hoping beyond anything that it remains steady for the moment. “I want to see the mole on the back of your neck.”

His whole body tenses slightly, but you do not fail to catch it this time.

“What are you talking about? You know I don’t have a mole on the back of my neck.” He chuckles, somewhat nervously.

“Then, you should have no problem showing me.” Comes your blunt reply.

“Baby, what has you so paranoid?” He searches your face. “Do you not trust me?”

He shifts off of the bed, pulling on the closest pair of pants he can find as he stands.

“I got a call.” You state, and he glances down at your phone held in your hand. “They found a body.”

His gaze darts back up to your own.

“A dead body.” Your whole body begins to tremble.

He blinks.

“It’s your brother.”

He remains silent, and you swear you can hear a pin drop with how still you both have gone.

He swallows, “I told you that I couldn’t find him when I went up to the roof.”

Your shoulders seemingly relax the slightest bit when he says this.

Cautiously, he takes a step closer.

“A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours,” he speaks to you calmly, as if attempting to calm you even further from the edge. “Why don’t we just take it easy, yeah? Take a deep breath, and then we can handle this together.”

Softly, you begin to nod your head, seemingly dropping your guard for the moment as your shoulders slouch.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh, clutching onto your phone as a lifeline as you step closer to him, resting just at the foot of the bed. “Let’s just stay together, and watch the sunrise.”

You see his brow furrow slightly in confusion, and your heart drops.

“But the sun’s already up, My Love.” He offers you a somewhat perplexed smile.

“Oh,” you chuckle, but you know that it’s quite stiff. “I suppose you’re right.”

In the next moment, you reach for him, appearing to seek his touch just as he does the same to you. Only, you’ve been planning this since the second he stepped out of bed.

A blink, and you have him pinned on his stomach, his one arm trapped beneath his body while you pull the other one behind his back. Your touch is nowhere near as gentle as it was last night as you shove his head into the mattress, pushing the ends of his golden locks upwards to reveal what you’ve been dreading since you got the call.

There, resting just below his hairline, resides a small mole, practically glaring back up at you in the light of the morning sun.

As if the code he botched wasn’t enough, this just proves it.

Your breathing deepens, chest heaving with every stuttering inhale you take as the harshness of reality sinks in around you. Suddenly, the room is thick with tension. So much so, that it weighs on your shoulders, suffocating you with every beat of your frantic heart.

You push yourself off of him, shaking your head as more tears fall from your eyes.

“No,” you back yourself against the wall as you watch him push himself up from the bed with a disappointed sigh. “No, this can’t be happening.”

Your heart feels as if someone has reached inside and torn it from your chest, the betrayal you feel coming through as clear as day on your face.

“Darling-“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You shriek, eyes blazing with an unbridled fury. “You- you-“ you push yourself as far against the wall as you can, your voice breaking as you attempt to find words, “you made me believe you were him.”

A deadly silence washes over the both of you.

“I should have known,” you scoff, a sort of sadness taking over your features. “I should have known it was too good to be true. He’s never listened to me like that. He’s never loved me like that.”

Kai’s jaw twitches in irritation, watching you break down in front of him like this.

“The entire night,” you laugh bitterly, “the entire night he was missing, probably already dead. Yet here I was, fucking his brother.” Your expression drops, horror painting your features. “I fucking cheated on my dead husband with his brother. I- I-“ You meet his gaze, breath hitching in your throat as you realize something. “Why did you let me believe that you were him?”

He remains silent, lips pursed into a thin line.

“Why?” You shout, tears streaming down your face.

“He could never love you the way that I could.” Kai’s voice is low as he replies, watching your every move carefully. “He’s never loved you in the way you deserved.”

“That’s bullshit!” You spit. “Who are you to decide who can and can’t love me? Who are you to decide what kind of love I deserve?”

“He’s never deserved you, period.” He keeps his tone steady, but you can hear the restrained anger he holds back for the moment.

“And you do?” You counter, incredulously.

“I loved you first!” His one hand slams over his heart, nails biting into the skin of his bare chest. “I wanted you first. He only wanted you to prove I could never have you; to take you away from me. He never loved you, he only loved knowing he had something else over me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted. The only person I’ve ever loved.”

Your eyes catch on that gold band wrapped around his one finger.

Pure dread washes over you as realization sinks in. Your blood runs cold.

“How did you get that ring?”

Kai notices your gaze locked on his hand, and he pulls it away only to gaze down lovingly at the metal adoring his finger.

“It belonged to me before he stole it.” He replies, somewhat bitterly. At your skeptical look, he’s quick to continue, “Yes, your loving husband took this set of rings from me to propose to you with. After I had told him of my intentions of doing the exact same thing. Only, he got to them first.”

“So, you had two sets.” You voice, attempting to wrap your head around this new information.

“Oh, no, Darling,” he shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards maniacally. “Just the one.”

Your brow furrows, until morbid realization paints your features. “You killed him.”

“He didn’t deserve to live.” Comes his blunt reply. “Not after everything he’s done. Not after everything he’s put you through.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Kai hums, tilting his head mockingly. “He couldn’t protect you properly. I saw what that bastard did to you last night. Do you really think Jongin would have done anything about it? No. Instead, he pulled you on top of himself when the bullets started flying to protect himself. He never cared about you, because no matter how much attention you could give him, it would never be enough. You were never enough for him.”

“He pulled me on top of him because I said I didn’t want any of that man’s vile blood to touch me.” Your voice is low, like the approach of an oncoming storm. “You are so jealous of your brother, you continuously make up false claims just to tarnish his name. You never saw how he treated me behind closed doors. You don’t know what our relationship was like.”

“Really? Because I certainly learned enough last night.” Comes his pointed retort. “He was a fucking selfish lover, wasn’t he? Always putting his pleasure first over your own. He used you in every way he could to get himself off, both physically and emotionally, yet you’re still too blind to see it!”

“Don’t pretend to know what he was like.” You snap, arms crossing over your chest. “At least he never made me believe he was someone he was not.”

“You’re the one who assumed I was him.”

“You’re the one that went along with it!” You counter, your chest heaving as you swear your heart might collapse at any moment from the suffocating feeling of pain that surrounds it. “Now, I’ll have to live my entire life knowing I slept with my husband’s murderer on the night he was killed. I cheated on my dead husband!”

With each word, your voice rises. You’re almost hysterical at this point, beginning to pace while laughing insanely the whole while.

“You want to get mad at me for killing someone as vile as him?” Kai’s nostrils flare. “I killed him before he could kill me. It was self defence! Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Shinobu or Nancy were that lucky.”

“Are you seriously implying that my husband was the one who killed Nancy and Shinobu?” You reply incredulously, eyes going wide in disbelief.

“He told me himself that he killed any further doubts you might have about him last night.” Kai states, somewhat matter of factly.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” You scoff, shaking your head.

“I would never lie to you.” There is nothing but honesty dripping from both his tone and his gaze, and you hate how you actually do believe him.

“Yet, you made me believe you were your brother.” Your voice isn’t as firm as before, your tears slowing, too.

“You said it yourself last night,” he meets your gaze, eyes flashing, “I am your perfect lover.”

“You’re despicable,” you spit, noticing how he slowly begins to creep towards you now.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you begin to angle yourself away from him. Only, he’s faster, pinning you to the wall as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Every night could be like the last when you’re with me. No, it will be.” He breathes, pressing himself right up against you despite your best efforts to shove him off of you. “You know I can treat you right, Darling. I think I’ve more than proved myself to you. I have always wanted you. I have always loved you. With me, you’d never have to question that again.”

You hands come up to rest on his chest, keeping him distanced from you as much as you can.

“You’ve betrayed me, Kai.” Your voice is but a mere whisper on your lips, the devastation clear on your features. “I can never forgive that.”

“That’s bullshit!” He pushes himself off of the wall, anger pulling at his features. “You can’t forgive me, but you can continue to love a man who continuously cheated on you, and could never love you in the ways that you’ve always deserved?”

“Jongin never cheated on me, Kai.” You state lowly. “Your brother was a lot of things, but cheater he was not. Not after he knew what happened with my parents.”

The male before you remains silent.

“You knew what happened with my parents, how they didn’t know the meaning of loyalty. You know how I feel about cheaters, and you purposely led me to believe you were my husband just so you could fuck me.” You slowly begin backing away from him again, leading yourself towards the hallway that will lead out of the room. Your phone begins buzzing in your hand. “How do you think that looks to me, Kai? You say you love me, but would someone in love do something as unforgivable as that to the one they claim to love?”

“I do love you.” His tone is firm, taking a step forward as tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, finally having reached the bedside table. “You don’t love me. You want to own me.”

His breath hitches, the first of his tears beginning to trail openly down his cheeks.

“I have always loved you.” He repeats his words from earlier, a bit more desperately this time. “Last night-“

“Last night was you manipulating me into getting what you’ve always wanted from me.” You say. “You want to make Jongin out to be the bad guy when you’re the worst one!”

“I only want to love you!” His fist slams against the wall beside him in frustration before he begins tugging desperately at his hair. “Can you not see that?”

“I cannot love a man like you, Kai.” You shake your head, feeling your phone begin vibrating once more in your hand. “I never can, and I never will."

Something within his eyes flash, and he goes so still, you swear that he’s stopped breathing.

“You don’t mean that,” he starts to hyperventilate, his eyes crazed as he begins clawing at his face. “You- you- you need me like I need you! You said you loved me! You said I was yours!”

“I said I loved my husband, Kai.” Your voice is firm as you meet his devastated, tearstained face. “Not you.”

“No!” He lunges, managing to knock your phone out of your hands as he wraps his arms around you. You both go tumbling to the floor. Desperately, he clings to you, sobbing into your neck. “You can’t leave me! I love you! I did this for you. For us!”

“Kai, let me go.” You attempt to push him off of you, but he doesn’t relent his hold on you even in the slightest.

“No.” He begins to shake his head. “I- I’ll make you love me. You’ll see!”

“Kai, this isn’t an opportunity for you to change my mind.” You, again, attempt to shove him off of you to no avail.

“I don’t need to change your mind,” he starts to nod, as if he’s convincing himself more so than you, now. “I’ve already proved it to you. You felt it, didn’t you? You felt my love last night. You wouldn’t call me your perfect lover otherwise.”

You can tell he’s no longer talking to you, but reasoning with himself. The more he speaks, the more he seems to believe, calming himself down with each word that he says.

A knock at the door breaks his train of thought. He stiffens.

“Don’t answer that.”

Another knock, more frantic than the first sounds.

You attempt to break free from his grasp once more, only for him to pull you firmly back into his arms each time.

“You’re not going anywhere, Darling.” His voice is low, suddenly much more ominous than only moments before. “I won’t let you leave me.”

You still, heart stuttering as a fear unlike ever before floods your veins. If he can kill his own brother, there’s no telling what he might do to you.

A call of your name from a familiar voice outside the door draws your attention.

“Are you in there?”

It’s Quincy.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, Kai slaps a hand over your lips.

“Shh,” he keeps his voice low right by your ear, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine. “Wouldn’t want the big boss lady to disturb the happy couple, now, would we?”

You shake your head, deciding to play along with his games for the moment. You’d rather stay alive than upset him further and truly set him off. He already seems incredibly unhinged, and there’s no telling what he might do.

Another knock sounds.

Slowly, Kai beings to lower his hand, trusting that you won’t act out.

Only, you know better.

A loud yelp escapes him as you bite down on his hand quite harshly. This causes him to loosen his hold on you, and you managing to scramble free after elbowing him in the chest. Rolling away from him, you’re quick to fling open the closet door right beside you, seeing as you wouldn’t have enough time to stand and open the door to the room. Luckily, you know where you’ve stashed all the guns, and the closest one now rests in your hands as you stand back to your feet.

“I’m inside, Quincy.” You call over your shoulder, watching as Kai slowly stands to his feet with his arms raised beside him. You cock the gun. “Kai’s gone mad.”

You hear a low curse come from behind the slab of wood behind you, some shuffling occurring as she whispers order too low to make out.

“Please, Darling,” he expression falls. “Don’t do this. You know I can make you so happy.”

“Take off that ring.” Your eyes briefly dart to his hand, that metal band glinting almost mockingly at you now. “Besides, I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“And I thought I told you that these rings are mine.” His eyes flash. “Ours.”

Your nostrils flare. “Fine then.”

Shifting your hand, you begin to slide your own wedding band off of your finger. Except, Kai takes advantage of your movements, lunging towards you while you’re distracted. He manages to wrestle the gun from your hands as you go tumbling to the ground. You scramble onto your back, hands supporting you as you look at the man you thought you could trust.

The gun is now pointed at your head, tears streaming down his face as he gazes down at you with nothing but sorrow on his features.

“Don’t make me do this.” He nearly chokes on a sob.

You can hear some scratching at the door. The slow, telltale movements of someone picking the lock.

“I’m not making you do anything, Kai.” You shake your head. “You did it all yourself.”

“Please,” he begs, hand trembling as that barrel stares you down. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You can’t lose what you’ve never had, Kai.” You reply lowly.

His expression falls, and you notice his hand has stopped shaking.

“Fine then.” He swallows thickly, as if steeling himself for what he’s about to do.

You hear the click of the lock falling out of place.

“If I can’t have you,” his eyes are crazed, wild as he meets your own, “No one can.”

The sound of the door swinging open is synonymous with the gunshot that echoes throughout the room. The second shot is quick to follow, a body falling limply to the floor.