ryugeniee

[ryugeniee]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝘿𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙮 - 𝘾𝙧𝙪𝙯 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙨 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(LONG CHAPTER)

18+ minors do not interact!!

Warnings: fem! reader, tension, angst, Bad language, ALOT of Kissing

Previous, Chapter 2:

The next evening, you approached the shadowy hulk of Warehouse 18, your footsteps echoing on the empty pavement. The night was thick and silent, the warehouse a giant looming into the sky.

Inside, you found Cruz pacing like a caged animal, her tension tangible. The place was an old industrial warehouse, repurposed or abandoned, with a gritty and atmospheric feel, but seemed used as a hideout quite often. The walls, once vibrant, are now faded and peeling, with signs of wear and neglect.

She whirled as you stepped further inside, your heels clicking against the hard floor, surprise flickering in her eyes. "You came," she said, like she hadn’t believed you would.

"Of course I came," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. The warehouse smelled faintly of oil and dust, the air thick with tension. "You told me to." Cruz’s jaw clenched, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her leather jacket. She didn’t respond immediately, her dark eyes flickering over you, searching for something—doubt, fear, regret, maybe. When she didn’t find it, she let out a sharp breath.

"You shouldn’t have." Her voice was low, almost a growl, but the crack in her composure betrayed her. She wasn’t angry. She was scared.

"Why do you keep saying that?" you asked, stepping closer. "Why are you so convinced that I shouldn’t be here? Cruz, I’m not running. I told you that." She turned away, her hand raking through her hair as she muttered something under her breath. For a moment, you thought she might shut you out again. But then she froze, her shoulders tight, and when she turned back to you, her expression was raw. Unmasked.

"Because I’m not who you think I am," she said, her voice cracking under the weight of the words. "I’m not some...regular person who can just be with you, no strings attached. My life—my past even my present—it’s messy. Dangerous. And if you stay, it’s going to pull you in, too."

Your stomach twisted, the gravity of her words sinking in. "What kind of danger are we talking about?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm. Cruz hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. "The kind where people get hurt," she said finally. "Or worse."

The air between you felt electric, the warehouse’s vast emptiness amplifying every word, every breath. "You’re not making this any clearer," you said, frustration bubbling to the surface. "If you’re trying to scare me off, Cruz, you’re going to have to do better than vague warnings and brooding silences."

Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile, but it was swallowed by the weight of everything unsaid. She took a step closer, her dark eyes locking onto yours. "You don’t get it," she said quietly, her voice a razor’s edge. "The people I’ve worked for—they don’t just let you walk away. And they sure as hell won’t let me drag someone like you into this. If they even knew about you—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "I can’t let that happen."

You stared at her, your heart pounding. "Cruz," you said softly, "whatever this is, I want to help you."

“You can’t," she said, her voice breaking. "You shouldn’t, it’s not something I need help from, I signed up for this shit" But she didn’t step back. And she didn’t stop you as you closed the gap between you. "Let me decide that," you said, your hand reaching out to graze hers. Her skin was warm, rough, trembling under your touch. "Stop shutting me out. Just tell me the truth."

Cruz exhaled sharply, like she was holding back the weight of the world. Her gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face, and for a fleeting moment, she looked like she might give in.

"I’m a lioness" she said finally, the words coming out like a confession. "I work for people who don’t ask questions and don’t forgive mistakes. I delivered...packages,Information. Mainly things much worse like neutralising targets. My last mission wasn’t long ago then I took a break. I walked away. But no one just walks away from this job."

The words hung in the air like a guillotine, sharp and heavy. You searched her face, trying to piece together the fragments of her story, of the woman standing in front of you, vulnerable and guarded all at once.

"Is that why you’re so afraid?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "Because they still need you?" Cruz’s expression darkened. "They don’t just need me. They control me. And when they do, they don’t care about feelings or second thoughts, they will stick me in terrible situations one after the other." Her voice softened, a painful vulnerability creeping in. "I couldn’t live with myself if I or even they drag you into this."

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you could see the faint tremble in her hands. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “Let me help you. We’ll figure this out together.” Cruz shook her head, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and despair. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice breaking. “There’s no ‘figuring this out.’ There’s no happy ending here. The best thing I can do is keep you as far away from me as possible.”

“And what about what I want?” you countered, your voice rising. “You don’t get to make this decision for me, Cruz. If you think I’m just going to walk away because you’re scared, then you don’t know me at all.”

Her gaze softened, the fire in her eyes dimming as she looked at you. For a moment, she seemed to waver, caught between the walls she’d built and the pull of your words. “I want to believe that,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “But if anything happens to you because of me…I couldn’t live with that.”

“Then don’t let them win,” you said, stepping even closer. “Don’t let them take this from you—from us. You’ve fought for everything else in your life, Cruz. Why not fight for this?” The silence stretched between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Cruz’s expression flickered, her mask slipping as she stared at you. And then, with a shaky breath, she whispered, “I don’t know if I can.”

The word hung in the air, a quiet admission that spoke volumes. Cruz's shoulders sagged, years of struggle and trauma etched into the lines of her face. The vulnerability in her eyes was like a punch to the gut, the tough exterior cracking, exposing the tender layers beneath.

You took another step forward, closing the gap between you until the heat of her body mingled with yours. “You don’t have to know,” you said, your voice a murmur in the heavy silence. “You just need to believe that we’re worth fighting for.”

Cruz’s breath hitched, her dark eyes flickering with emotions she couldn’t seem to name. Fear. Longing. Guilt. It was all there, raw and unguarded, as if your words had slipped beneath the armor she wore so tightly.

Her hands flexed at her sides, like she didn’t know whether to reach for you or push you away again. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like to live looking over your shoulder every second, waiting for the moment someone might find you.”

“Maybe I don’t,” you admitted, your voice steady but soft. “But I’m standing here anyway. I see you, Cruz—all of you. The pain, the fear, the guilt you carry. And I’m not walking away.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the ground between you. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispered, the words almost inaudible. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, your voice firm as you tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze. “You’ve been running for so long, Cruz. Let someone run with you this time.” Her brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for some kind of hidden agenda or weakness. But when she found only sincerity, something in her seemed to give. A crack in the dam, a sliver of hope slipping through the wreckage of her fears.

“Goddamn it,” she muttered under her breath, her voice rough and low. And then, before you could say anything else, she closed the distance, her hands coming to your face as her lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more—desperate, fiery, and filled with all the emotions she couldn’t put into words. It was the kiss of someone who thought they’d lost everything but found something worth holding onto again.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead pressed against yours, her breath ragged and uneven. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she murmured, her voice trembling. You smiled, your fingers brushing against hers. “Then show me.” And for the first time, Cruz didn’t push you away.

The kiss was electric, a surge of heat and need that left you both breathless. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding on tight as if she feared you would disappear if she let go. You could feel the tension in her body, the struggle between the instincts of a survivor and the desires of a woman too long denied. Her hands roamed over your body, desperate and tender all at once, as if she was trying to memorize every curve and contour.

She broke the kiss reluctantly, her chest heaving and her eyes burning. “You’re crazy, you know that?” she said, her voice low and rough, tinged with a mix of awe and disbelief. “You should’ve run the moment I told you what I was.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “Maybe I am,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But so are you if you think I’m going anywhere now, the damage has been done, no turning back now”

Her lips twitched, a fleeting hint of a smile breaking through the storm cloud of emotions in her eyes. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, her hands still gripping your waist like she couldn’t let go even if she wanted to. “So are you,” you shot back, your smile widening despite the intensity of the moment. “Seems like we’re a good match.”

Cruz let out a low laugh, but it was short-lived, her expression sobering quickly. Her hands slid up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with an unexpected gentleness. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice quieter now, heavy with something close to desperation. “This isn’t a game. These people—they’ll take me back. And if they know about you—”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “Together.”

Her brows knit together, the walls she’d spent years building trembling on the verge of collapse. “I don’t know how to let anyone in, I did once before and had to ruin her whole life before her own eyes” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You leaned in, your forehead brushing against hers, your breath mingling with hers in the small space between you. “Then we’ll figure it out,” you murmured. “Step by step. But you have to trust me, Cruz. Trust us.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, as if she were trying to summon the courage to believe in something she’d spent her whole life avoiding. When she opened them again, the fire in her gaze was softer but no less fierce. “Alright,” she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your heart swelled, the weight of her words settling over you like a promise. “I’m not afraid of warnings,” you said, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. This time, she didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. And for the first time, it felt like she wasn’t running.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if she was pouring every scrap of need and desire she’d been holding back for years into the moment. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer until she had you pinned against the cold wall of the warehouse. Her body pressed against yours, her heartbeat hard and fast against your chest.

The world fell away, the dimly lit warehouse fading into the background as her lips moved down your neck, her breath hot against your skin. Her hands pushed the strap of your dress aside, baring your shoulder. She started biting and sucking, marking you as hers.

Cruz’s lips pressed into your skin, the rough urgency of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. Every kiss, every bite, every graze of her teeth spoke louder than words ever could—this was her claiming you, a raw and unrestrained declaration that she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Your hands slid up her arms, feeling the tension in her muscles as she struggled to stay in control. But there was no mistaking the fire in her touch, the way her fingers gripped your hips like you were the only anchor she had in a chaotic world.

“Cruz,” you whispered, your voice breathless as your fingers found the edge of her jacket, pushing it off her shoulders. The leather fell to the ground with a soft thud, leaving her toned arms bare.

Her head lifted, her eyes locking onto yours, dark and heavy with need. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with anticipation. Then, as if a dam had broken, she kissed you again—hungry, desperate, like she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands roamed, rough and reverent all at once, exploring every curve of your body as if memorizing you. The cold of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the heat of her touch, her lips trailing down to your collarbone, her breath warm and unsteady.

You arched into her, your fingers threading through her hair as her lips traveled lower. The faint hum of the warehouse’s fluorescent lights buzzed in the distance, a reminder of where you were—but neither of you cared.

“Tell me to stop,” she murmured against your skin, her voice raw and unsteady, though the look in her eyes said she hoped you wouldn’t.

“Don’t,” you breathed, your hands pulling her closer. “Don’t stop.”

Cruz let out a low, guttural sound, her control slipping further as she pressed her body against yours, her lips capturing yours again in a kiss that was pure, unrelenting fire. Whatever walls she’d built, they were crumbling now, leaving nothing but the two of you and the unspoken promise in every touch.

She moved lower, pushing the other strap of your dress down, her lips following the path her hands had taken. She paused at the edge of your bra, her tongue tracing a tantalizing line just above the lace.

“You’re so goddamn perfect,” she murmured, her voice a low rumble. “Every sound you make drives me insane,” she murmured, her voice low and gravelly, each word vibrating against your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her hands moved lower, gripping your thighs, lifting you just enough for you to wrap your legs around her waist. The world tilted, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating mix of her strength, her heat, and the raw, unrelenting passion in her touch.

“Cruz,” you breathed, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer and a plea all at once. She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes blazing with intensity. “Say it again,” she demanded softly, her voice thick with need.

“Cruz,” you repeated, your voice trembling, your hands tangling in her hair to pull her closer.

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her mouth claimed yours again, her kisses deeper, hungrier, as if she could devour every piece of you and still not have enough. You clung to her, the world narrowing to just the two of you, every touch and every breath a promise of everything that could never be put into words.

And in that moment, you realized you didn’t care about the danger, the risks, or the secrets.

The sharp ring of a phone shattered the cocoon of heat and intensity enveloping you both, the sound jarring and unwelcome in the stillness of the warehouse. Cruz froze, her body tensing against yours, her breathing ragged and uneven as the reality of the interruption crashed down around you.

The phone rang again, the sound echoing off the cold walls. Cruz cursed under her breath, her forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting moment as if she was trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer.

“Damn it,” she muttered, reluctantly pulling back, her hands lingering on your hips as if she couldn’t quite let go yet. Her dark eyes flickered with frustration and something that almost looked like regret as she reached for the burner phone clipped to her belt.

She glanced at the screen, her jaw tightening as she saw the caller ID. “I have to take this,” she said, her voice gruff and low, a storm still brewing in her eyes.

You nodded, breathless and unsteady, watching as she stepped a few paces away, you pull up the straps of your dress and fix your hair. Her tone shifted immediately as she answered, cool and professional, the mask she wore so well snapping back into place.

“Hi ma’am” she said sharply, her back to you now, the intensity of her stance telling you this wasn’t just any call. You leaned against the wall, your heart still pounding, your skin still tingling where her hands and lips had been. Whatever that call was about, you could tell it wasn’t good. And though the fire between you hadn’t burned out, reality was creeping back in, reminding you just how dangerous this world you’d stepped into really was.

Authors notes!: Sorry for the long wait, hopefully this makes up for it, things are starting to get spicy and a certain boss woman might get introduced in the next chapter *cough cough Joe*.

I’ve decided to make a tag list so comment if you would like to get tagged in future chapters!

[ryugeniee]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝘿𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙮 - 𝘾𝙧𝙪𝙯 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙨 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(Based off the c.ai bot- mochidoll)

18+ minors do not interact!!

Tw: fem! reader, tension?, light angst

Chapter 1:, Next Chapter

Dim, golden light glossed over everything, the air heavy with exclusivity. Cruz shifted awkwardly by the racks, clearly out of place, her jaw set as she trailed behind you. “C’mon,” you teased, nudging her side. “I need an opinion, not your sulky face.”

She grunted, gaze dropping to the dark chocolatey oak floor as you plucked a champagne-colored dress off a rack. “Looks expensive,” she muttered, her voice gravelly, but you just smiled, tugging her toward the dressing room.

The room was cozy—too cozy. A cushioned bench sat beneath a gilded mirror, and the faint hum of air conditioning mingled with the distant shuffle of other customers. You stepped behind the curtain, leaving Cruz seated stiffly, her boots creaking against the pristine floor. The rustle of fabric drew her attention, her ears perking at the faint sigh you let out. The sound sent a strange tightness through her chest. She tried to focus on her hands, rough and calloused against her thighs, anything but the mental image of you slipping into the dress.

Then you stepped out. *Fuck*

The dress clung to your frame, silk catching the golden light with every shift of your body. Her breath caught, chest tightening as her gaze swept over you. “So?” you asked, turning slowly, the hem brushing softly against your legs. “You look…” Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat, her accent thickening. “Really good.” Cruz’s jaw tightened. “Amazing, jesus” she muttered, her voice rough and unsteady.

Your fingers drifted up to the strap of the dress, brushing it lightly as you toyed with the fabric. Cruz’s gaze locked on yours, her breath hitching. The way you looked at her—soft, searching—made her pulse hammer in her ears. “Don’t,” she murmured, her voice low, strained. “Not here, please.”

The words hung between you like a wire pulled taut. Outside, footsteps echoed, and someone cleared their throat. Cruz stood abruptly, her movements jerky, like she needed to escape.

“I need air.”

Cruz’s departure hit like a cold slap against the warmth of the room. The gilded mirror reflected your stunned expression, the golden glow of the space suddenly feeling more like a trap than a retreat. For a moment, you stood frozen, the weight of her words settling over you. Rushing to put your heels back on.

The door to the dressing room creaked faintly as you pushed it open, stepping out onto the lush carpet. You spotted Cruz through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the boutique, her silhouette framed by the muted cityscape. She stood with her back to you, her hands jammed deep into her jacket pockets, her broad shoulders hunched against some invisible weight.

The sales associate smiled politely as you passed, but you barely registered her. The air outside bit at your bare arms, the silky dress no match for the cool evening breeze. Cruz didn’t turn at the sound of your approach, but you could feel the tension radiating off her like heat from a flame.

“Cruz,” you said softly, stepping closer.

Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging your presence without looking at you. “You shouldn’t…” She paused, her voice raw. “You shouldn’t do that.”“Do what?” you asked, though the question felt naive even as it left your lips. Her head finally turned, her dark eyes locking onto yours. There was a storm in her gaze, fierce and unrelenting. “Make me want something I can’t have.”

The admission cracked the air between you. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the city humming around you like static. Then, without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing her sleeve. She flinched, like your touch burned, and you pulled back quickly.

“Why not?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic.

Cruz laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “Because you don’t know me. Not really.” Her hand came up to rub at the back of her neck, her stance restless, like she wanted to run but couldn’t quite bring herself to. “I’m not who you think I am.” You frowned, confusion and something sharper cutting through you. “Then tell me who you are.”

“I can’t.” The words were a knife, sharp and final.

The silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting. The world beyond the boutique seemed to fade, the golden glow of the citylights painting both of you in soft shadows. “Cruz…” Your voice wavered. “You keep saying I don’t know you, but you never let me try.”

She exhaled harshly, her hand dragging through her hair. “You don’t get it. I don’t get to have this. Not with you. Not with anyone.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the vulnerability slipping through before she could cage it.

And then she turned, walking away before you could say anything else. Pain lanced through your chest, the cool breeze suddenly biting at your skin. The golden glow of the boutique seemed distant, the world outside continuing to move without you. Cruz's words echoed in your mind. "I don't get to have this."

You stood frozen, your heart in your throat. The city thrummed around you, as if mocking your silence. The idea of letting her walk away felt like a hot iron pressed against your flesh. You'd never been one to chase anyone, let alone someone as closed off and guarded as Cruz.

But this was different. Cruz wasn’t just anyone. She was an enigma wrapped in contradictions, magnetic even in her resistance, and somehow she’d gotten under your skin in a way no one else had. Letting her leave now felt like losing something you hadn’t even fully grasped yet—a future, a possibility, a truth hidden beneath all her layers.

Before you realized it, your feet were moving. “Cruz!” you called, your voice cutting through the hum of the street. She didn’t stop, didn’t even flinch, but you kept going, your pulse pounding in your ears as you caught up to her. You grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn. “Don’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”

Her eyes flashed, dark and conflicted. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice sharp and desperate. “You can’t understand. I’m not—” She broke off, her jaw clenching as she looked away, her free hand curling into a fist.

“Then make me understand!” you pleaded, stepping closer. “I’m standing right here, Cruz. I’m not going anywhere. But you have to let me in.”

Her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her as she stared at you, something raw and unguarded flickering in her expression. For a moment, you thought she might say something, but then she shook her head, pulling her arm from your grasp.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe for you. Not with me.”

Her laugh was bitter, hollow. “Everything. Losing you. Hurting you. Hell, even wanting you is dangerous.” She raked a hand through her short hair, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. “You don’t know the kind of life I’ve lived. The things I’ve done. You think this—” She gestured between the two of you. “—is some fairytale waiting to happen? It’s not. It can’t be.”

You stepped closer, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “You’re wrong,” you said. “I don’t care what you’ve done, Cruz. Or who you think you are. I care about you. I see you, whether you believe it or not. And I’m not afraid.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching as she stared at you, the walls she’d so carefully built starting to crumble. For a heartbeat, you thought she might let them fall completely, might let you in. But then she turned away again, her voice breaking as she said, “You should be.” And this time, when she walked away, you didn’t stop her.

The weight of those words sat heavy in your chest, a stone sinking deeper with each passing second. Afraid of what? Of her? Of the life she hinted at but never revealed?

You hugged your arms around your torso, the cool silk of the dress doing little to fight the cold. The boutique's golden light felt like a mockery now, a bubble of warmth you couldn’t quite step back into. Your thoughts swirled as you stared at the direction Cruz had gone, her silhouette swallowed by the city’s chaos.

“Ma’am? Is everything alright?” The boutique attendant’s voice broke through the haze, polite but distant. You nodded automatically, the lump in your throat keeping you from speaking. But everything wasn’t alright. Nothing about this felt remotely okay. Cruz’s words, her pain, her stubborn refusal to let you in—it all churned inside you, a mess of anger, sadness, and something deeper. Something more dangerous.

You turned back toward the boutique, your feet heavy. As you stepped inside, the golden glow felt almost oppressive now.

——————————————————————————

Later that night, wrapped in the warmth of your apartment but still chilled to the bone, you found yourself replaying every moment with Cruz. Her guarded looks. Her hesitant smiles. The way her voice softened just slightly when she forgot to hold herself so tightly. She was a puzzle you wanted to solve, a locked door you couldn’t help but try to open.

And then there were her words. "You should be afraid." They weren’t a threat. No, they were a warning. Cruz wasn’t trying to scare you off; she was trying to protect you. From what, you didn’t know. But the thought only fueled the fire in your chest.

You grabbed your phone, hesitating as your fingers hovered over her number. The weight of her secrecy pressed against your better judgment. But when had you ever listened to that? You typed out a message, short and direct: “You don’t scare me, Cruz. But whatever it is, I want to know.”

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the weight of it settling like a stone in your stomach. Minutes passed, then an hour, with no response. The silence was deafening, and just as you started to lose hope, your phone buzzed.

Her reply was a single line: “Meet me tomorrow night. Warehouse 18. Come alone.”

Your heart jumped, equal parts anticipation and dread curling in your chest. Whatever Cruz was hiding, tomorrow, you’d find out.

Writers note: Will hopefully continue this story depending on how well it does!