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demonicbaby666 · 6 months

Note

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.

"That's a good girl."

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.

"Get up."

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"

"Emily, please," you begged.

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.

"Beg," she instructed.

And you heeded.

"Please. I need you."

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.

"You'd better be quiet then."

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."

"But-"

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.

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libraryraccoon · 8 months

Text

The Demon Of Cancellations : A Cancel Contracts Business

The story of a demon in hell that can cancel contracts.

P1 (here) -> P2

TW : Bad english, english isn't my first language.

Pronouns used for the Reader : he/they

Male/Gn reader. Others info : the reader do 5'7 and have a dark academia style with a trench coat.

_________

There was a well-known demon in hell. They were not an Overlord, but very powerful.

‘Why ?’ you will ask ? Because they was able to make any contract appear, and make it disappear, cancel it, just by touching it.

People call them The Demon of Cancellations.

________

I should tell you where all begin, right ?

Well, that all begin with a teenager, a 16 years old teenager.

He was a normal teenager, going to school, lying, daddy issues, mama’s boy, hating the life and his siblings, burning car and sometimes house...

A normal teenager from the Gen Z.

But, one time, he die.

His friend told him to jump from the rooftop of their school.

And, as a dumb suicidal, he jumped.

And just like that, when he opened his eyes, he was in hell.

He didn’t know what to do. He always know he will end up in hell, yeah, but he didn’t expect it that early !

So, like everyone that go in hell and don’t know what to do, he decided to do a pact with an Overlord !

Well, try will be a better word.

Why ? Because when he touch the contract, the contract disappear. The contract was cancel.

And our little demon, that wasn’t that dumb, decided to start a business which consists of canceling contracts.

And that worked !

And it’s just like that, that The Demon Of Cancellations was born.

_____________

Angel Dust wasn’t very sure about all that “Demon Of Cancellations” thing, but if they can cancel his contract with Valentino, he won’t say no.

It was Friday, at 9pm, when Angel Dust arrived at the building where the Demon Of Cancellations do their business.

The building was a normal building, well, as normal as a building can be in hell.

Angel entered the building, and went up to the third floor, where his, perhaps, savior's office was.

The Demon wasn’t what Angel expected. And the Office too.

Angel imagines a large, dark office, with a large and terrifying demon waiting for him.

Not a 5'7 teenage human-like demon. No, but seriously, the only things that differentiated them from a human were the demon horns and tail.

Angel knew that some demons kept appearances that could be more or less close to their living form. In fact, the less bad things a demon does while alive, the more similar its appearance will be to when they was alive.

But that didn't make sense ! How could a powerful demon, who could break any contract just by touching it, have done only a few bad things ?!

“Hello, Angel Dust I supposed ?” said the demon, making Angel Dust focus on the demon in front of him. “Come, take a sit, I don’t bite, I swear !” they said with a soft smile.

The Demon was wearing clothes that looked Dark Academia style, as well as a trench coat, and they had a black blindfold covering their eyes.

They didn’t look that different from a regular demon that haven’t done too much bad thing from alive.

But Angel Dust couldn't let his guard down. They were The Demon Of Cancellations after all.

Carefully, he sat down on the seat in front of the desk, looking at the face of the demon in front of him.

“So, what contract do you want me to cancel for you ?” they ask, always with a smile.

‘They look like a little like Alastor, think Angel Dust, ‘always smiling like a fucking creep.’

“With Valentino.” Said Angel Dust.

“Valentino ?”

“Yeah. A problem with that ?” ask the spider demon.

‘Maybe they can’t cancel it. Yeah, that should be that.’ Think Angel Dust, mentally repressing himself for having believed, for having hoped, to be able to end this fucking contract.

“Oh no !” said The Demon Of Cancellations. “It’s just that it’s the 5th this week that someone ask me to cancel a contract with him.” They explain. “I was thinking about putting my office closer to where he works, as most of my clients are his workers."

“If you do, I doubt you'll survive more than a day. He'll kill you when he will see you." Said Angel Dust with a little chuckle, thinking at Valentino that was swearing about “That stupid fucking demon that take all my bitches”.

Angel Dust won’t lie, it’s only after hearing that, that he decided to come see them.

And as his contract appeared, floating on the desk, he knew he had made the right choice.

The Demon Of Cancellations touch the contract, and just like that, the contract was cancelled, disappearing in the air.

Angel Dust couldn't help it, he smiled and cursed.

“Yeah ! Take that, you bitch Valentino ! I’m free !”

And he was. He could feel his soul being free after all this years.

The Demon Of Cancellations laugh at that.

“Well, you’re free now. So go do all that the devils do when they are free.” Said The Demon Of Cancellations.

“FUCK YEAH !” scream Angel Dust, running out of the office. He had to tell what just happen to Charlie and Husk !

______________

The Demon Of The Cancellations, Y/N by his real name, was happy in a way.

He was maybe a trash, a bad person from his living, but he won’t do the same in hell. He will help people to be free, well, as free as a sinner can be, even if that mean that he will die because of that.

Especially if he can get money with that ‘good’ action.

What ? He was still a demon after all. Why would he do that if it's not for money ?

_________

Possible part 2 with Husk and/or Alastor.

It’s the first time I write for Hazbin Hotel, for Angel Dust, so it’s not that good but I will try to do better.

In a timeline, it happen after the season one.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #angel dust #Raccoon is writing #The Demons Of Cancellations #x male reader #gn reader #x gn reader #male reader #part 1 #maybe part 2 soon

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 6 months

Text

"Guess I'm Just Good With Them" - 2

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x SingleMom!Reader

WARNINGS: Slight insecurities about being a single mom, extreme fluffiness

WORD COUNT: 915

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Sinking into the couch, you groan. It's been an hour trying to put Leila to sleep. And with consistency, you finally have achieved that goal. You run your hands over your face trying to get the drowsiness to evade your eyes, you need to do some more chores. And you know you won't be able to get to them in the morning, with work and the babysitter coming to sit Leila.

Your phone pings. That's weird, it never pings.

It only does when it's your co-worker asking to cover their shift, or it's when your boss is telling you the unfortunate news of you having to work overtime.

But it is neither of those situations. It's an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: Hey there, this is James from Walmart.

You stare at the electronic brick in your hands. You tap on the notification and see the actual message.

Your jaw drops. He actually texted you. James actually texted you.

Your heart races slightly as your thumbs do that little dance over your screen. Biting your lip, you think about what you should write about.

YOU: Hi James! How are you? :)

You groan and tip your head back, thinking your reply is similar to that of a fourth grader. But, that thought instantly vanishes as you see the texting bubble on his side jump in a pattern. While they do you save his name in your contacts.

JAMES: I'm doing alright. How are you, and Leila? 🙂

You let out a deep breath and type again.

YOU: Oh! We’re doing well, thank you. YOU: Happy to hear that you’re doing well too! :)

What’s with you and that smiley face, you whine in embarrassment and throw your phone to the side. “God, why am I like this?” You whine as you run your hands down your face. You never thought twice about texting.

But when it comes to James, you had to. You don’t know why, but you feel flutters in your belly when your brain strays to think about him. You don’t force your brain to do so, it’s just a second nature, an unconscious habit.

You can’t help but think about his charming smile that was on display the whole time Leila looked at him, the way he let your baby girl play with his metal arm, the way he would coo at her when she became fussy.

Your phone pings. Reaching for your phone, you inhale and open the text.

JAMES: That is great to hear. 🙂

You push out your lips, wondering what to reply with.

YOU: :)

You internally groan at your teenage-like response.

JAMES: I just wanted to know if you and Leila are busy this weekend.

You’re heart races again, is he going to ask you out?

YOU: We're not :). Why?

Ok, you were really bold with that response.

JAMES: There is this thing at the Zoo a friend told me about, thought it would be a good idea for Leila to see it?

You are in shock, he really thought about your daughter when his friend mentioned a Zoo.

YOU: That’s a great idea :)

There’s a smile on your face when you hit send on your reply. The bubbles pop up again on James’ side.

JAMES: What about her mother? 🙂

Your heart does a loop. You re-read the message at least 10 times, repeating the words out loud just to make sure if you read it right. And you did.

He, kind of, asked you out.

YOU: Her mother would be happy :)

-----

The shade really did nothing to cool you off from the summer sun. You adjusted the battery powered fan to face Leila completely on the arm rest of the stroller.

Getting up from your bent position you see James approaching you with a backpack on his shoulders. He gives you that sheepish smile he gave you the first time you met. You raise your hand and wave at him, and he returns a two fingered wave.

“Hey,” he smiles at you again, before squatting and caressing Leila’s cheek with his finger. “Heya, peanut,” he smiles, and Leila giggles and grabs onto James’ finger.

“Ah, Leila. We don’t grab fingers, bubba,” you say slowly at your little girl. Leila slowly lets go of James’ finger but still smiles at him.

“She’s learning to listen,” he chuckles, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. You laugh and respond, “only because you are here, James. Otherwise, it’s a cryfest.” James laughs at your statement, nodding his head.

“Please, call me Bucky. My fri-people who know me do,” he clears his throat, and you nod smiling. “Of course, Bucky,” she smiles, and it immediately is pulled into a frown when Leila starts to whine. You’re quick to pick her up and carry her at your waist.

“She was fussy during nap time this morning, I'm sorry,” you explain, your insecurities of being not a good enough mom started to kick in.

Bucky gives a sympathetic smile and he nods along. He puts his hand on the stroller, “I can push the stroller.”

"Really?" You ask in shock, bouncing Leila in your arms. Bucky chuckles and nods, "yeah, it's not a problem for me."

"Thank you," you give a downward smile, and he smiles back.

“Shall we?” He asks with a small grin, ready to push the stroller.

You smile and nod, this man really is the nicest thing that has happened to you in a while.

💌💌💌

TAGLIST <3: @toffeacademia

Here is the part two lovelies!!!

I will be transferring this to a series, so yay!

(if you wanna be tagged in the series, pls comment here 🤗🤗)

The next thing I'm most gonna be posting is the first chapter of "Infinite Solutions"

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fandom

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prettyforwoso · 8 months

Text

Dancing Juice

Barcelona femeni x Teen reader

word count: 2500

Summary: teenage reader has a little too much to drink on a night out with the team, but all the girl wants to do is dance.

Warnings: alcohol, vomiting, some swearing

For context: reader lives with Alexia requests open :)

You are the highest you have ever been, dancing like the kid you are in the change rooms post-match. A pure and smooth win for the team has the us celebrating. Blasting music and singing echoing of the hard walls of the room, shaking from the synchronized jumping and dancing of the team.

You can barely feel your body, concluding from a mix of your teammates picking you up into the air and your consistent jumping to the beat of whatever song was playing. You felt as though you were cloud nine, and that feeling didn’t leave you side all night, infect, in the coming hours it would only get more intense.

You had all showered and cleaned yourself up before piling into Ubers and heading to a club around the corner, you are still only 16, but managed to get in as Frido knows the owners. You wore a little black top, paired with a white Demin mini skirt and a pair of sneakers, most of the team wore the same sort of thing.

You walk into the crowded room, a strong strobe light being to only lighting too the space. Your eyes laid themselves upon team, sitting cosy in a large booth as members piled through the door. The next notable feature of the room being the dance floor, you would be spending most of the night there.

“Hola y/n, you clean up well” you are greeted by Ona who helps you find a spot to sit at the booth. You have let your natural curls breathe for the night, a rare sight for the girls, who would consistently tell you to stop straightening it.

Most the girls hold drinks in their hands, a sight which made you immediately uncomfortable, it wasn’t anything to do with them, but you always hated when they would drink, and you would have to stay entirely sober. It makes you feel a little left out in a way. Alexia has known about this little issue of yours for a few months, having had pulled you aside once at a party when you had completely shut done when everyone had gotten absolutely pissed of their heads. You confessed your hatred for the act, but still Alexia would never let you have a drink when out. Only on the occasion would she pour you a small glass of something at home, where she could really keep an eye on you and make sure you were okay. It’s not like you were entirely innocent, you had gotten drunk a few times with your school friends, which always resulted in in a heavy scolding from Alexia and other teammates who she would dob on you to.

“Why don’t you have a drink Bebita, as a treat for your amazing work today” Alexia says, putting down her glass on the table, looking you in the eye.

You feel a smile approach your face. “are you sure?” you ask, that last thing you needed was Alexia telling you off the second you got home.

Instead of answering, she pushed a shot glass across the table. You look back, eyes wide as she nods her head. You lift the glass in your hands looking at it, questions your choices.

“Go on”

Your mouth feels hot as the liquid pours through your body, making you feel giddy. You screw you face up in discomfort. That was bad, but you somehow want more.

You sit in the booth for a bit, sipping on the cocktail Jenni had gotten you. Some of the girls had starting dancing, you yearned to join them, you feel like you have so much energy, like you could go all night.

“Voy a bailar” you announce, standing up, your legs leading you to the sound of the dance floor.

“Be careful y/n” someone says as you turn your back from the booth.

Your quick to find Ona and Ingrid on the floor, jumping with drinks in their hands, screaming the lyrics to the song playing. They pull you into them and once you start you don’t stop. You have always been a dancer at parties, much preferring it to sitting around talking. You dance your little heart out with the girls, a few more joining as the songs play, you feel like your spinning, strobe lights so bright you can’t see the person in front of you, it’s amazing. All you can hear is the screaming singing of your teammates and the random others around you.

“I’m getting another drink” Ingrid tells the group. “You want one?” she asks One who nods her head.

“Me too” you butt in. Ingrid smiles.

“Did Alexia say you could drink?” she questions with a raised brow.

“Yeah somehow” you answer.

“You better not be lying” she says as she begins to walk off.

“Would I ever” you yell back. She lets out a small laugh before walking away, rolling her eyes.

While you wait you head back to the booth to see some of the older girls, Aleixa, Jenni, Lucy and Frido look to be in deep discussion about who knows what. The current song playing is one you don’t know, so you take it as an excuse to take a break from the lights and loud music. As you get over, Lucy wraps and arm around your side from her sat position, not looking up from the conversation.

“Guys come dance” you begin to plead… “its so fun, stop being boring” your head is swaying from side to side as your words find themselves on your tongue.

The girls look up from their conversation at your pleading.

“In a bit Bonita” Frido replies, sharing a kind smile. Lucys thumb gently rubs your waist as she looks up at you.

“Aghhhhh” you roll your eyes and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Y/n, Drinks” you here Ingrid yell across the room, now connected at the hip to Mapi.

You begin the walk over to her, grabbing your drink saying thank you. You push down your fourth shot of the night and sip on the drink Ingrid had gotten you.

The booth, now absents by you, look at one and other.

“She is so drunk” Jenni says with a gentle laugh.

“She’s fine” Alexia says with a smile, lifting her glass to her lips. “It will teach her a lesson”.

Your still going, not a tired bone in your body, alcohol is fun.

“Omg I love with song” you scream with excitement in Onas’s ear as you dance along side one and other. You sing every lyric as if you had memorized the fast paced rap in the past. Yous hips move from side to side, arms in the air, hair down in the motion of it all. The girls are impressed with your non-stop energy.

Its all soon to turn south though, as you feel a pit in your stomach. Your head felt like it was being slammed into a wall. You attempt to dance the feeling away. It’s not working.

You’re on the floor of the club bathroom all too soon. Throwing up what felt like a lung. Your knees aching on the floor and face in hands, regret starts to hit.

The team, who were all keeping a very close eye on your energetic dancing frame all night were suddenly slightly panicked when you couldn’t be spotted in the crowed of dancers.

However, their concerns were quickly put to rest when Frido found you in the bathroom. She had walked in and called out your name.

“Y/n? You in here?” she yelled out.

You took a deep breath before calling back. “yeah” your voice is muffled from the throwing up and tears of pain. You don’t even hear her push to door of the cubical open, the only indicator that she is in the space with you being her front pressing against your back as she kneels done behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“I feel like shit Frido” you say, placing your head back to lean on her shoulder. She stocks a hand along your forehead, down to your chin.

“I’m not surprised darling” she says gently. “Little miss energy has finally crashed”.

“I have not, I still want to dance” you whine, extending the last syllables.

“I think we better get you home little one” she says, looking down at your soft eyes.

“No, I want to dance” you say sitting up too fast, quickly leaning back against her.

“We can dance at Alexias, what do you think?” she bargains.

You let out a loud disapproving sigh, “As long as you promise”.

The car ride home was anything but uneventful. Lucy drives with Jenni is the passenger seat. You in the back, squeezed between Alexia and Frido. Your head is rested on Alexia as you quietly sing songs to yourself. None of the girls have told you to shut up, so you happily carry on. You do your little dancing in the back, enjoying yourself once again.

“Oh and the happy drunk is back” Jenni says with a playful eyeroll, looking at you in the mirror.

“She was never gone Jenni, just needed a rest” you snap back, getting a laugh from the women is the car. You bounce in your seat, regaining your energy.

“Lucyyyyy” to start, you can feel her eye roll.

“What little one?” she questions.

“Can we pull over; I want to dance” you start to beg.

“No darling, we are almost at Alexias, and we need to get you to bed” she says sternly.

“WHAT!” you whisper yell at the top of your whisper lungs. “Frido you LIAR” you say, almost in tears.

Frido mentally face palms herself. “We can still dance baby girl”.

You put your face into Alexias’s neck, upset. She pats your head at places kisses on your hairline.

Once you arrive back at home, Alexia picks you up and brings you inside, despite your protests. She sits you on the couch as Lucy grabs you some water, Jenni getting some vomit bags for the long night ahead.

Lucy hands Alexia the water, who then hands it to you.

“Drink” she says simply.

“Only if you promise I can dance” you snap back.

“Bebita, just drink the fucking water” Alexia instructs, frustrated.

“NO! I want confirmation that I get to dance” you say, acting like a smart ass, crossing your arms, tilting your chin up.

Alexia simply grabs the back of your neck in response, tilting you head up further, pressing the glass to your lips. You open you mouth as she slowly pours the water down your throat. Her tight grip on your hair relaxes when the glass is empty. She brings the glass down from your lips and presses a kiss on your forehead, contradicting her previous harsh movements.

“Good girl bebita” she says, nudging her thumb on your cheek. “Do you still want to dance, or would you prefer to get some rest?”

You look up at her with tired sleepy eyes, nudging yourself into her, she wraps her arms around you and lays you down on the couch. “You need to stay where we can see you for a bit, little one. Okay?”

You simply nod.

The four of them stay around for a bit longer while you sleep peacefully on the couch. They have a bit more to drink between them and gossip before Lucy, Jenni and Frido head home, all pressing a kiss on your sleeping face before saying goodnight.

Alexia is sat on the other side of the couch, staring directly at your sleeping body. All Alexia ever wanted to do was take care of you. She loves you so deeply. She thinks you are the strongest girl in the world, knowing what you have been though, yet you continue to keep a smile on not only your own face, the faces of those around you. She saw the way you never failed to make people laugh, even the shyest of people.

You begin to wake up, with the feeling of eyes on you. Alexia smiles at you with a tilt of her head.

“Let’s get you changed and in bed. Hm?” She says lifting you by the waist as you wrap your legs around her, head tucked into her neck.

You’re soon changed and snuggled into your bed. Alexia sits on the end of it, watching you fall softly in and out of sleep before she gets up to leave for her own bed.

“Wait Alexia” she spins, it’s the first words she’s heard you say in a few hours. “Can you stay, I don’t feel good on my own tonight” you explain.

She lets out a loud breath, making her way back towards you. “Scoot over then” she says lifting the covers and laying done behind you, you roll over, so your face is in her chest. Her arms wrap around you and pull you closer.

“Goodnight Bebita”

“Night Alexia”

#barcelona x reader #woso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut #lucybronze #barca femeni #barca x reader

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unholyhelbig · 9 months

Note

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”

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lisired · 9 months

Text

ex marks the spot

pairing: ex!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, a pinch of angst, mystery, exes to lovers, (mentions of) characters death, graphic descriptions of violence and murder, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (m/f)

summary: Two months ago, you and Mark called it quits and haven’t spoken to each other since. As per tradition, your respective friend groups gather each Christmas eve to keep the peace, but this year somebody has a different plan. And the new chick on Mark’s arm isn’t the worst thing to happen.

wc: 19.9k

author’s note: (this is a repost!) nothing like a christmas mystery lol. partly inspired by honey lavender by ieuan. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Distractions, you chanted to yourself, desperate to think about literally anything other than your many problems.

A tall window overlooked the entire city, as far as you were concerned. Nightfall had taken over and the bustling streets were caked in thick clunks of snow. Pressing your fingertips against the glass, you could feel relentless winter.

None of it did anything to soothe the white hot envy scorching its way down your throat. Across the room, there was a blonde girl on Mark’s arm, snuggling against his chest and sucking up all of his warmth.

That should’ve been you, but you would never admit to yourself (or anyone) that you were jealous of her. You had way too much pride for a silly thing like that. Of course, Mark had never brought a girl to one of these events before, and you had an inkling it was solely to make you jealous. You couldn’t let him win.

“This is my friend Jodie,” Mark had introduced the girl hanging on his every word like a lovestruck teenager, but noting how close they kept to each other amongst many other things, it was safe to assume they were more than friends.

Less than lovers, probably, but undeniably more than friends.

Johnny, the man of the hour, came floating your way with the grace of a butterfly and said, “Damn. You could just tell me if you’re hating the party.”

Your eyes flickered. “What?”

“You’re mad. It’s written all over your body language.” Then, he craned his head and whispered in your ear, “Have a drink and relax a little. Don’t let him know he’s getting to you.”

“He’s not getting to me,” you grumbled under your breath, but you knew that it was an obvious lie.

“If he’s not, then Jodie sure is. That’s what he wants. The whole reason he’s sucking her face off by the hearth is because he wants you to see.”

You knew that. Mark always wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged. His whole life was based on making people look at him, to which you were no exception. Your relationship consisted of him doing anything and everything necessary to grab your attention, but in all honesty, it didn’t take a whole lot.

You could never keep your eyes off Mark and he knew it. Wherever he went, he was the most radiant person in the room. He was a Leo to his fucking core.

Getting back in character, you straightened up your stance and threw Johnny a beaming smile. “It’s a wonderful party.”

Johnny grinned. “There she goes,” he said in his regular speaking voice, pleased at your new demeanor.

He was the master of all things body language and human psychology. He had been friends with you long enough to be confident that you’d never want your ex thinking for a second that he had one up on you. At least you knew somebody would always have your back. With Mark and his friends, you couldn’t help but watch it.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, grateful he’d come get you together. And quickly at that.

“You’re my friend.”

“Mark’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but Mark’s a dickhead.”

You snickered. “Amen to that.”

Johnny was the middleman between you and Mark’s individual friend groups. After an incident dating back all the way to your senior year in high school, your former friend group of nine was split in two. You, Jeno, and Jaehyun on one side, with Mark, Chungha, Haechan, and Yuta on the other.

Johnny, the god of friendly relations that he was, managed to drift between both sides. Matter of fact, these parties of his were the whole reason you even saw the other side of the group every year. If it weren’t for Johnny wanting to maintain the peace, most of you would never be in the same room again for any purpose.

You took a glimpse around the party. It was being held in Johnny’s sumptuous two-floor penthouse this year after the outdoor disaster that was last year's Christmas eve reunion. To say the least, hypothermia had never seemed scarier.

Unsurprisingly, Mark still had his hands and mouth all over Jodie as they stood near the hearth, the fireplace decorated in limestone. Chungha was marveling at Johnny's case of precious stones and cabochon gems. Off to your right, Haechan had his face set in a scowl.

“Haechan looks happy to be here,” you quipped with total sarcasm.

Johnny didn’t even spare Haechan a glance, like he already knew what he’d see if he looked, and chuckled. “Yeah, we got into a tiny argument a few minutes back. He’ll be fine.”

That piqued your curiosity, but you didn’t press. Haechan always went looking for trouble and Johnny stopped it before it could even happen. Of course Haechan disliked that.

The elevator dinged, revealing a fashionably late Jeno. Johnny noticed and glanced at you, saying, “I’ve got to greet our favorite guest. Thanks for coming, by the way.”

You shot him an amused grin. “I came for you, but I’m staying for the margaritas.”

Johnny shook his head and laughed. After asking him to tell Jeno that you said hello, the two of you went your own separate ways.

For a little bit, you went to mingle, but you realized quickly that there weren’t a lot of people you were keen on having a conversation with. Jeno, your best friend, was with Johnny. That left Jaehyun, Johnny’s stepbrother, but you knew he preferred to be left alone.

Mark obviously wasn’t an option. Even if he knew you better than anyone in the room.

In spite of knowing you wouldn’t be there long, you made small talk with Jaehyun for a couple of minutes before he got an apparently urgent text message on his phone and excused himself apologetically.

To where, you had no fucking clue. This was your first time in Johnny’s penthouse regardless of how close you were. You spent very little time in the city and even less at your own home. It was a blessing you hadn’t missed one of these parties yet.

Maybe a curse. To be frank, you didn’t want to be here, but that had almost everything to do with Mark. Bringing Jodie along to an annual reunion for friends was low, even for him. But you kind of wished you had somebody to keep you company like he did.

You exhaled your feelings and pretended that they didn’t bother you. Your mother told you a long time ago that the only person you’d ever be able to depend on was yourself and though she had her own set of parenting complications, it was the best advice she’d ever given you.

Speaking of advice, Johnny’s was starting to appear way too appetizing and you made a beeline for the kitchen, slipping past Yuta who was apparently on the phone. Those infamous mango margaritas were calling your name.

When you entered the hallway, turning around the corner from the dining room, you almost immediately retreated. You almost told Johnny that you couldn’t be here for another minute. But Mark noticed you and it was too late. He would immediately know what was going on and take it as a surrender.

“Look who decided to come,” Mark said sharply, a greeting of his own in some twisted way. “I bet you were hoping to see a fruity cocktail.”

“Yes, and you’re standing in my way,” you spat, gesturing to the cabinets behind you.

Mark furrowed a brow. “You aren’t going to take one that’s already there?”

You looked at him like he had fifteen heads. Those could’ve easily been spiked with any substance. “Mark, half the people in this house hate each other. I love margaritas, but I love my life way more. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Mark scooted out of your way, though only because he knew the bounds of your survival. It was all that you knew.

You reached around, grabbing ingredients from various places. All the while, Mark stood there, hating how unbothered you were. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you and would go to great lengths to get what he was searching for.

His eyes were fixed to your frame and the green sequin gown hugging it tightly. There was a long slit running down the side that Mark clocked before you turned to face the counter, offering a delicious view of one of your perfect legs. When his eyes lifted from your beautiful curves, he noticed the dress was backless.

Fuck, you were still gorgeous. Worst of all, you were still exactly everything he imagined and wanted. The girl of his dreams.

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” Mark admitted, staring daggers into your back.

You rooted in place with shock at the blurted confession, hands on a bottle of tequila, wondering if he had any liquor in his system making him a little more blunt than he should’ve been.

Until Mark finished, “Because if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

The flutter in your chest immediately settled back into exasperation. Mark wasn’t afraid of having an altercation with you and he knew he could get away with it without suspicion. Given the bad blood between your respective friend groups, occasional animosity was to be expected.

Plus it wasn’t like it was still some grave-bound secret. It also wasn’t as if you never saw the glares Haechan threw your way.

You recovered with a roll of your eyes, turning to him and snapping, “How long are you going to hate me?”

“As long as it takes,” Mark growled, parading out of the kitchen before you could get another word in. He wasn’t prepared to argue yet, but he refused to let you have the last word.

You shook your head in contempt. Mark wasn’t just your former lover, but the other half of you, regardless of how corny it sounded. You knew he could hold a grudge until the day he was six feet under. As long as it takes. For what, you had no clue.

Finishing up the cocktail, you cleaned up behind yourself and prepared to head back out to the party, though made a last-minute decision to linger in the kitchen. You were irritated and you weren’t in the mood to socialize or see Mark again until your system had a little liquor.

A few moments afterwards, Jeno bounced into the kitchen eagerly, grinning from ear to ear like he knew that he’d find you here. As if to sell your suspicions, he greeted, “Found you. And it only took eight seconds.”

You chuckled, sipping from your glass. Though you already knew the answer, you humored him, asking, “How’d you find me?”

“Easy. I just followed the tequila.”

“Me and tequila do go way back,” you replied, smiling at the memories. Some good, some… unspeakable. You gestured to your glass. “Want one?”

Jeno shook his head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

You gasped dramatically and joked, “What, are you pregnant?”

“No way. I’m a complete virgin.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re a complete fucking lie.”

Jeno looked like he couldn’t even take himself seriously. Then, he shifted the topic, mentioning, “I saw Mark storm out of here. That also was a hint as to your whereabouts.”

You fought a grimace, deciding nonchalance was key. “We talked for the first time in two months. Since the breakup.”

“How did that go?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you mumbled, the memory making you wince and take another generous sip.

Jeno grimaced. “Yeah, he didn’t look too happy. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, though you weren’t certain. Your heart still raced a little when Mark was close enough. But a familiar pain always followed in its wake.

Jeno gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. Both of you were distracted by the sound of footsteps, noticing Johnny and Jodie cruising down the hallways. From the looks of it, he was giving her a tour. She was giving Johnny heart eyes.

You arched a brow in curiosity, while Jeno appeared amused. To the average outsider, Johnny looked content as ever, but you and Jeno recognized him with dwindling patience.

“This party’s getting interesting,” Jeno commented, eyes darting down the hall with interest.

You nodded in agreement. “It’s already a step up from last year.”

There were painful flashbacks flickering behind Jeno’s eyes. “Damn right. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, all I could feel was warm air.”

You snickered. “Johnny doesn’t repeat mistakes. He hates it.”

“You really know Johnny.”

You noticed that Jeno’s eyes were already on you when you glanced up to look at him. “We dated. You know that.”

“For your mother’s sake,” Jeno replied.

That was true. She was practically begging you to bring a guy home. Not because she was eager to have grandchildren (though the time would come where she’d start pressing you for an heir), but because having an affluent partner would make you look better, which would thus make the company look better.

It was before Mark. The bad blood aside, he wasn’t exactly the type of person your mother approved of you being seen with. Mark was a rapper. Johnny, on the other hand, came from a lineage of prominent wealthy businessmen.

In a weird way, it kind of made sense how the group separated. There was you, whose father was the chairman of an oil company, Jeno, whose father was the chief executive of a private equity investor, and Johnny and Jaehyun, whose mother was an entrepreneur, but Johnny was chosen to take over the business while Jaehyun was stuck with real estate.

Then there were Mark’s friends. Chungha, who was a successful model and influencer. Yuta, a popular soccer player. And Haechan was the product of two fierce attorneys, but he obviously had no intention of following in his parents’ footsteps.

Johnny was everything your mother wanted you to be with and to appease her, you dated him for a few months. And you were grateful. He helped you learn new things about yourself and how you navigated relationships. You were never in love with him, but you’d always love Johnny.

Your heart still wanted Mark. You didn’t know what love was until you fell for Mark.

“Yes. It was strictly business,” you confirmed, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t news. Jeno knew you well enough.

Jeno nodded in approval. “I’m gonna go take a look around the house. This is my first time coming over.”

At least you weren’t the only one. “Have fun. I’m gonna find some food. I’m hungry.”

Jeno told you that he’d see you later, then dipped. Meanwhile, you went around the corner to the dining room, finding plenty of food and wanting to dig in. You didn’t trust half of the guests here enough to eat unsupervised dishes, but unlike the previous years, you didn’t manage to sneak in a meal beforehand.

Yuta and Haechan ironically didn’t seem to be as wary. They were sitting beside each other, chatting over their food. Out of his friends, Mark was closest with Yuta and Haechan. Their friendship was unwavering and one of the few to stand the test of time. In a way, they were like a trio of brothers.

You subtly took glances at them. Haechan looked more buoyant and cheerful than earlier. Definitely not in the mood to poison anyone’s food. And Yuta, though you weren’t necessarily close anymore, still seemed like the Yuta you used to know. Before the incident ruined you for the worse.

Haechan couldn’t be any more different. He was the same spoiled little brat, you supposed, but he wasn’t shy about his disdain towards you. And the rest of your friends. If it weren’t for the fact that Johnny was just so goddamn likable, you were certain Haechan wouldn’t come.

At least you weren’t on their radar for now. Neither of them seemed to be fazed by your presence. Thank god, you thought to yourself, glimpsing across the dining room. There were mistletoes hanging from here to there. You could hear typical holiday music from down the hall.

It was a good sign at the very least. You were just paranoid and not having Mark to discreetly meet in a bathroom for a quickie forced you to confront the dark essence of these parties. With Mark, the feeling was still there, but at least you could convert it into tension of a sexual nature.

You still remembered what it was like. Betting kisses on how many minutes of alone time you had before the others noticed you were coincidentally both missing. Those sweet nothings you’d whisper in his ear to coax him towards climax quicker.

And they would work. Every fucking time. There was nothing like watching his face immediately tense with pleasure at those words and watching his orgasm consequently wreck through his utter being like a freight train.

You chuckled at the thought. It was too fucking easy, but boy, Mark could fuck.

Your thoughts wondered again. To Mark, and to Jodie. Did he fuck her, or was he merely using her as a pawn in this little game of his?

You wouldn’t be surprised. On top of his exigency for attention and demand for total adoration, Mark was fucking spiteful. He was the pettiest dude you’d ever met and would go to the ends of the earth and back simply to make a point.

A few more glances around the dining area and you decided that there was nothing for you there, returning to the solace of Johnny’s marble kitchen. Thinking about your stupid ex made you lose your appetite.

If you made it back home for Christmas tomorrow, there would be a full-course dinner with your relatives anyways. You used to hope that you’d be able to bring Mark to one of those holiday banquets, though you’d be delusional to think it’d be anything other than a complete fiasco.

Hell, the only lover of yours to survive meeting your mother was Johnny, and that was because you didn’t know a single person who could possibly dislike him at all.

To your surprise, a spine-chilling gunshot rang out somewhere down the hallway, jolting you out of your brief abstraction.

“Fuck!” cried Johnny’s voice, startled. You knew immediately that something was wrong. Johnny, at least on the outside, was never afraid.

Not since that night.

You marched straight for the living room and the echoes of several pairs of hurried footsteps said that everybody was on the same page. Though you could’ve swore the gunshot came from here, when you got to the living room, everyone was there except for Johnny.

No, Jodie wasn’t there either. You would know, because she’d be clinging to Mark’s arm right about now, like a child to their mother’s bosom in a grocery store.

Johnny stumbled out of the lounge with no apparent injuries, but an inscrutable look on his handsome face.

Jaehyun was the first to ask, “What happened?”

“Jodie,” Johnny said emotionlessly, pointing to the lounge. “She’s dead.”

Nobody moved. You instinctively glanced to Mark, wondering what his reaction would be, but his face didn’t move a fucking inch.

“Is that what that gunshot was for?” Yuta pressed.

Johnny shook his head and replied, “No, the gunshot was for me. Somebody tried to shoot me from the overlook upstairs, but missed by an inch. I ran into the lounge for shelter, but found Jodie there instead.”

The bullet in the wall by a lamp was enough proof that Johnny wasn’t lying. One of his guests standing before him now tried to take him out.

There was a familiar unsettling sensation burning through your gut like a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The room devolved into its own breed of silent chaos, but you could tell from everybody’s faces and guarded postures that the same thought was flickering behind your eyelids.

Mark finally expressed a pinch of anger in his tone, stating in confusion, “I only heard one gunshot.”

“That’s because she wasn’t shot,” Johnny replied coolly, running a hand through his hair. “She was butchered.”

Well, that sure didn’t paint a pretty picture. Just the thought of what you’d see if you walked into the lounge made you stiffen. You jotted down a mental note not to go in there unless absolutely necessary.

You glanced up towards the overlook. It was tall and offered the perfect angle of Johnny from where you assumed he was standing, plus there was enough space between the metal bars for a bullet to fly.

To its sides were two different hallways, both functioning as possible escape routes, but everybody got here fairly quickly. Wouldn’t anyone have noticed if someone fired a shot merely seconds before gathering here?

Your arms were folded across your chest and your face was fixed in a line to hide your fear. There was no room for it with this crowd of people. “You didn’t see anyone?”

“I looked up and they were only a sliver.”

Chungha didn’t look too happy. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“As if it’s ever that easy with us,” Jeno retorted.

Johnny quickly shot the idea down. “Nobody’s coming in or out of my house until I know who did this. If you want to try me, be my guest.”

You weren’t keen on being cooped up in this house for only god knows how long with people who were as good as strangers (especially now that bodies were dropping), but you didn’t plan on disobeying either, even if Johnny’s threat did little to intimidate you.

Johnny knew you. He knew you deep down. If Mark weren’t there, standing only a couple of feet shy of you, you would confidently say that he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But it was Mark who had seen all your ugly.

Haechan irritably groaned. “Then, what’s the plan, tough guy?”

“Well, we can start with placing you all outside of the scene. What’s your alibi?” Johnny asked.

Haechan didn’t take kindly to being accused, as evident in his tone when he hissed, “I was in the dining area with Yuta, eating. Our plates are still on the table.”

Johnny glanced at Yuta, who subsequently nodded to confirm that it was true. Plus you could still hear their chatter from around the corner when you were in the kitchen. Their alibi was rock-solid.

“I was coming out of the downstairs bathroom when I heard the gunshot,” Jaehyun said, glimpsing around.

Nobody countered him, and Johnny seemed to trust him, all things considered. They may not have shared blood, but they were brothers.

You rubbed your temple. “I was in the kitchen.”

“I was in the den,” Mark claimed, holding his arm. You could see the slightest shift in his carefully constructed demeanor. “I saw Chungha coming from the back of the hall, so it wasn’t her.”

Chungha said nothing. She was warily glaring holes through the skin of everyone around her. Chungha was a sweetheart and never thought badly of you after the split-up, but she refused to let others get too close, and you honestly respected it.

You were the same way. Skeptical of everybody that crossed your path and kept a tight-knit circle of buddies. After what’d you seen and done, there was no such thing as being too safe.

Jeno huffed, “I was just walking around. I would’ve asked Johnny for a tour, but he was a little… preoccupied.”

Jeno didn’t elaborate and nobody asked him to, but you knew exactly what he meant, and you telepathically exchanged the same thought when you made eye contact for the briefest of seconds. It was odd that only seconds prior, Johnny and Jodie were walking together. Now Jodie was dead and somebody tried to shoot Johnny?

“Let’s not waste precious time. It’s obviously Jeno,” Haechan snapped, glare cutting through his enemy like a blade.

Jeno frowned, offended. “Why me?”

Haechan’s face was tense with frustration. “You know why.”

“Stop,” Johnny told them sternly, stopping the action before it could accelerate too quickly to be controlled. “We’re all adults here and we’re going to handle this like adults. If you have proof, by all means, share. If you don’t know for certain, then keep it to yourself.”

Unsatisfied, Jaehyun crossed his arms and asked, “So what now? We just continue on as if there isn’t a killer on the loose?”

“Yep.”

Jaehyun sighed in distress, but he didn’t go against Johnny.

The eight of you separated quickly, scattering about Johnny’s large house. He seemed to be aware that nothing would happen if you all remained together.

Getting everybody alone upped the stakes. The perpetrator would be more tempted to act. And you needed them to make a mistake.

At least for now, you decided to remain on the first floor where you were already familiar with your surroundings. In spite of being the obvious attack zone of the killer, you were comfortable here.

On your way out of the living room, you noticed some of the group assembling into pairs. Unsurprisingly, Johnny and Jaehyun were together. As were Haechan and Chungha. It was a powerful method, but you preferred to be alone. That way there were less distractions.

You also had no reason to view yourself as a target, though that made you ask yourself the glaring question. Why the hell would somebody want to kill Johnny?

Ironically, the purpose of these parties was to maintain the peace. Jodie’s killer obviously had to know that killing Johnny too would’ve been quite the statement to make.

That there was no peace when it came to the eight of you. You were composed only of death and destruction.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you barely noticed Mark walking in front of you until you nearly crashed into him, stumbling and being caught in his open arms. “Whoa there, baby,” Mark said, holding onto you tightly. “You should really be more aware of what’s going on.”

You wrested yourself out of his hold, but in the middle of doing your damnedest to free yourself from him, your fingers accidentally traced a familiar shape in his coat pocket and you stilled in surprise. “You have a gun?”

Mark didn’t try to deny it. “Why would I go anywhere without one, baby?”

“I’m not your ‘baby,’” you hissed, stepping a comfortable distance away from him.

Mark only hummed. His attention was on the long slit in your emerald green dress. For a second, you couldn’t believe he was blatantly checking you out, then he angled himself towards you and drew his hand to your exposed leg.

Your eyes flitted to Mark and when his met yours, a sly little grin spread across his lips. You’d be lying if you said that his hand on your legs didn’t instinctively reactivate carnal feelings inside of you, but you dared not reveal it on your face.

Finally, after a few seconds of scooting up your thigh, Mark found what he was looking for and purred, “Smart girl.” His hand was at your obviously occupied thigh holster, pointing out the fact that you were also armed and dangerous. “I guess this makes us even, huh?”

You didn’t realize you’d sucked in a breath. It was maddening how perfectly he knew your habits, how predictable you were. You threw his hand off and hissed, “Did you try to kill Johnny?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Mark hummed, apparently believing you. Many things could be said about you depending on who you asked, but at least everybody could agree that you weren’t a killer.

You removed his hand from your thigh and straightened your posture. If the two of you had weapons, it was safe to assume that you weren’t the only ones. The gun strapped to your thigh was the only reason you weren’t totally frightened of being alone.

Your eyes were fixed to Mark, studying him. You weren’t fond of the fact that you were met with the same level of attention, as if he was trying to make you falter under his stare. It wouldn’t be that easy.

Breaking the silence, you told him, “I’m sorry about your piece.”

Mark didn’t look too bummed. “Didn’t care about her like that anyway.”

Yeah, that checks out. You rolled your eyes. “You never cared about anything or anyone, except for yourself.”

That response seemed to genuinely surprise Mark. “Is that what you think of me?”

You weren’t prepared to discuss your emotions with Mark and the sober part of you made the executive decision to walk away instead. The liquor had you feeling a little too honest.

Mark, on the other hand, wasn’t done with this conversation. He grabbed your arm and demanded, “Answer me. Is that what you think of me?”

You wrested your arm out of his hold and snapped, “Just walk away, Mark. It’s what you’re good at.”

That’s rich, Mark thought, but rather than argue with you about it, he stormed off. You were unbelievable. After all he did for you, after how deeply he loved you, you seriously thought that he didn’t love you? That hurt more than he cared to admit.

You watched him walk away, bristling. It didn’t matter that he was only doing what you told him to do. He never fought for your love. He always chose himself over you. Why am I surprised?

Irritated, you made a dramatic exit of your own, wanting nothing more to do with Mark for as long as you lived. He just had to be so fucking difficult. If there wasn’t a slaughter party ongoing right now, you’d be tempted to scout for more alcohol.

At least you knew that you were right not to trust anyone. The food wasn’t spiked apparently, but your point still stood. This crowd was unpredictable and you were never truly safe together. There would always be that lingering tension in the air.

You just wish you knew what their intent in killing Jodie and attempting to kill Johnny was. By now, you were so surrounded by death that you hardly blinked, but Jodie didn’t deserve to die. A puppet in Mark’s silly little games or not.

As if you weren’t already totally pissed, Haechan made his way towards you and hissed, “Admit it. You’re behind all this.”

You resisted a groan and replied blandly, “I thought you said Jeno was the killer?”

“The two of you are besties. It’s not far-fetched to say that you’re in this together, all things considered.”

Rather than be offended, you were purely annoyed. You crossed your arms. “Even if that were true, that’s ridiculous. Why would I want to take out Johnny?”

“No, no, no. Johnny was Jeno’s idea. You had your eye on Jodie,” Haechan said like he had it all figured out. “I saw her corpse. The overkill? It was insane. I bet you took one look at her sucking the breath out of Mark and lost your goddamn mind.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re pulling shit out of your ass, Haechan.”

Like it was all he knew how to do, Haechan kept pushing. “Two different modus operandis usually indicate two different killers.”

“Oh, yeah? Did Daddy teach you that?” you snarled, feeling your blood pressure soaring.

Haechan shot you a venomous glare and replied back very belligerently, “It’s not rocket science. You’re jealous. Plus you already sided with a murderer once. Why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“God, it’s been years,” you groaned, bringing your palm to your forehead. This man was a walking headache. “If you don’t like us, then fine. But that blood is on all of our hands. Pointing blood-stained fingers won’t change that.”

Haechan was practically fuming. Obviously, he didn’t like that.

You had already started to leave, traveling a fair distance away from Haechan, but spun on your heels to give one final retort, “And for the record, Mark having Jodie tag along to make me jealous was a weak move. Tell him to try harder.”

Then, you left. You left and you didn’t look back. It was hit after hit for you, and you just couldn’t seem to catch a fucking break. Haechan literally had no reason to bother you other than to be a nuisance. His parents were lawyers. He was certain that if push came to shove, he’d have nothing to worry about. And neither would the people he cared for.

There was no telling if you would survive the night at this point. If a bullet didn’t take your life, then stress and frustration was a sure-fire way to finish you off.

The important question was who would be anticipating your death?

You wanted to think that you had never been more on edge, though that would’ve been a bold-faced lie. And an insult to your body’s self-preservation effectiveness. You were far from weak and if you were intent on survival, there was nothing or nobody that would stand in your way.

In an attempt to abate the tension, you made a beeline for the in-door elevator. Hopefully before any other unwelcome visitors could try to snake their way into your path.

When the elevator dinged, you were surprised to see Jeno. “Where are you headed?” you asked.

Jeno retorted, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You snickered and slipped beside him. Finally somebody whose company didn’t piss you off. “Second floor. Obviously.”

Jeno stepped out of the elevator, but extended his hand to keep the door from closing, scanning the bottom floor for other people. Apparently, there weren’t any, because he finally said, “There’s something weird going on.”

You snorted. “Other than the death and murder? Yeah, probably. Haechan accused us of being killers.”

“No, I mean…,” Jeno trailed, taking a peak across the hallway again. “What if he’s faking it?”

“Who?”

“Johnny.”

You made a face. That wasn’t something you’d even considered and you weren’t exactly convinced now that you had. “Why would he do that?”

Jeno shrugged. “Why do people kill? He was the first one to discover Jodie. And he’s the guy that hosts these parties.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty solid reason to assume he’s not the killer. He’s literally a victim. No offense, but I don’t buy that he killed Jodie then somehow had enough time to make it look like somebody fired a shot at him,” you replied.

“I guess,” Jeno mumbled, quietening. You were about to ask why, but you clocked Jaehyun casually strolling by.

Which meant he wasn’t with Johnny.

Jeno cocked you one final glance and said, “People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.”

Then, he recouped his hand and disappeared behind the elevator doors. In a time that it took you to blink, he was gone so quickly you could’ve imagined his presence.

And now you were thinking. If Johnny were alone, who knew what he was up to, but in the same vein, that could’ve just made him more vulnerable.

You immediately brushed the thought aside. Johnny? Vulnerable? Pfft. This guy taught you everything you knew about how to survive and it was only thanks to his valor and self-preservation skills that you were even breathing.

The elevator dinged again and this time the doors made a little narrow opening for you to walk through. It was your first time on the second floor of Johnny’s luxurious penthouse and the very first thing you did was monitor the new environment.

Few people apparently. Everything just seemed so normal and there was hardly anything out of place. You could faintly hear the Christmas songs still blasting from the speakers downstairs.

You crept just down the hall, pausing at the overlook. The place where the gunshot was fired. You gripped the rails, scanning the ground below. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Chungha sneaking about, but she was gone just as quickly.

The killer had to have been lithe. These little metal bars were thin and did little to conceal your frame. For Johnny to have barely seen them, you could only liken them to a thief in the night.

The problem was that literally everybody fit that description. There was no person that you could rule out, because you each had the capacity. If not the motive, then the means.

That was why you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your lone brain couldn’t fathom the devastation plaguing this group and you decided that you wouldn’t even try. With a little breath, you turned and searched for the fitness center.

It wasn’t difficult to find. All you had to do was narrow down your options, taking peeks through windows and quickly discerning that they weren’t your final destination. After some trial and error, you found your way to the massive gym area.

According to the sign, and a conversation you’d overheard earlier during the party (before all hell broke loose), just around the corner was a soccer simulator.

Somebody was already inside when you pushed the door open to enter. You bashfully waved your hand. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Yuta looked surprised to see you, but he only wore it on his face for a split second. “Stalker, much?”

“Nah. I just thought, ‘if I was a famous soccer player, where would I go?’ And this was the first place that came to mind.”

Yuta snickered. “Predictable. That’s a character flaw, I guess.”

A tiny laugh escaped your lips. Honestly, you were just glad that you even felt comfortable enough to joke around with Yuta, even if it was meaningless. Haechan was praying for your downfall and Chungha didn’t socialize with outsiders, but Yuta was thankfully normal.

He didn’t seem to mind your presence either. The large screen glaring at you in a violently blue hue was definitely on, but Yuta’s eyes appeared elsewhere. He finally said, “This gang and parties don’t mix too well, huh?”

“I think not,” you retorted, crossing your arms in amusement. Staying detached from the darkness was the only way you could stay sane. “Somebody always ends up dying at one of them.”

Yuta took a seat in a nearby chair and kicked his feet up on another one beside him pensively. “Sworn enemies with an axe to grind in the same room under the guise of ceasing rivalry one day out of the entire year. I could’ve told you guys how that was gonna end.”

I could’ve, too, you said to yourself, a billion thoughts like a downpour in your head. It was why you never left your house unarmed and hesitated to eat food you didn’t make.

Because you were protecting yourself. Just like everybody else in this house.

“Well, it’s not a shock,” you replied in agreement. “We do enough damage on our own, but together? It’s all we’re capable of.”

Yuta fought a frown. “I feel bad for that Jodie girl. I’m sure you’re aware Mark was definitely using her, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged into our sick hell.”

Those pictures of her slaughtered body were flickering in your head again. It haunted you, and you hadn’t even seen her corpse. “Everybody that comes near us gets burned.”

Yuta’s demeanor shifted noticeably, brooding. “I feel guilty. Yet when Johnny told us she died, all I could think was ‘at least it’s not my fault this time.’ Is that wrong?”

His sudden vulnerability surprised you, considering Yuta wasn’t the type to randomly express his feelings, much less to you. You immediately put your hand on his shoulder in comfort and said, “Doyoung’s death wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

Yuta shrugged. “If I had listened to my parents, if I hadn’t invited you all there, that night wouldn’t have happened. Doyoung wouldn’t be dead. And this friend group might’ve stayed in one piece.”

“Yuta, you should blame that creepy psychopathic weirdo. Not yourself.”

Yuta grimaced, as if the sole mention of that guy flung him back to a place he’d already buried.

And you didn’t blame him. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but you could describe him vividly. How could you not? The same pale guy in blood-stained overalls appeared in your dreams a little too often.

This little party turned bloodbath wasn’t you and your friends’ first rodeo. Matter of fact, you’d argue that the first round was a tad scarier. You still got flashbacks, so terrified for your life and everybody around you that adrenaline numbed you to the crisp, nipping autumn air.

For his birthday prelude, Yuta invited all of you to his parents’ expensive farmhouse, sitting just on your hometown’s outskirts. It was quiet, remote. No neighbors, which seemed fun in the first half, but as the night progressed, it became a nightmare not having anyone nearby.

A birthday celebration quickly became a fight for survival, and Doyoung lost. He was one of you, still a part of you, locked away inside your heart but never forgotten.

Jeno had accidentally stabbed him with a gardening tool, thinking that he was the killer. Doyoung had come to his hiding spot desperately seeking shelter, but Jeno panickedly made a mistake that cost him his friend’s life and the trust of his others.

That was how the friend group divided. There was the side that would never forgive him for Doyoung’s death, blaming him wholeheartedly. And then there was the side that showed him some grace. You were all frightened out of your minds that night.

Though what Jeno did didn’t matter. You were all complicit in Doyoung’s demise, whether they wanted to admit it or not. The killer made you all finish him off, made you all bury his wounded corpse while it was still fresh.

Your hands were still stained with dirt and blood, burning hotter every time you thought of him.

“I blame Jeno,” Yuta seethed under his breath.

You frowned.

Yuta stood to his feet, unable to stay still. There was too much emotion in him now, pulling him every which way. “Every year I get whiplash from having to mourn my friend’s death anniversary then celebrate my birthday back to back. That’s unforgivable.”

Though you liked Yuta, you weren’t going to let anyone slander your best friend silently. “I understand, but it’s not just Jeno’s fault.”

Yuta chuckled. “If only you knew.”

Your brows furrowed. “What don’t I know?”

“That Jeno’s fucking obsessed with you. Always has been. We don’t hate him because he killed Doyoung. We hate him because we think he killed Doyoung for you.”

Your lips parted soundlessly, flabbergasted.

Yuta read the confusion on your face plain as day and continued, “Think about it, sugar. Doyoung had a crush on you. That was everybody’s business. And it’s Doyoung who Jeno accidentally stabs out of all people?”

You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you hadn’t turned down Jeno’s advances once before, but he was so fucking chill. You could’ve forgotten that it even happened. There wasn’t a single thing in your friendship that felt out of place.

Plus he knew firsthand that you were head over heels for Mark only, even if you didn’t want to be anymore. It was pathetic. Yuta had just told you another guy was willing to go to lethal lengths to keep you away, and yet one of your first thoughts was how painstakingly you loved Mark.

But Mark hated you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, the lines between fiction and reality beginning to blur.

Yuta relaxed. He could tell there was a lot going on in your head, because he recognized the conflict akin to the one warring within himself. “It’s dead.”

You appreciated that. Fuck’s sake, Mark and his friends usually liked to push until there was nowhere else to go. And then some. Your thoughts wandered there and you opened your mouth, asking, “Why are you nice to me?”

“I’m not nice to you,” Yuta replied, making you blink. “I just treat you like a regular human being. There’s a difference.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t done anything for me not to.”

You shook your head. “Mark wouldn’t agree,” you muttered, rubbing your arms.

Yuta glanced at you. You were letting your guard down around him, something he was certain you probably hadn’t even done with Mark tonight. “Fuck Mark. He’s been lying to himself. And to be frank, I think he’s deluded himself.”

Your eyes were cold when you looked into Yuta’s. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, he wants to convince us and the whole world that he hates you and he’s moved on, but he hasn’t even convinced himself. You were his everything, man. Mark hasn’t been the same since the breakup. I want my friend back.”

I want my lover back. But Mark used to be your friend, too. A healthy blend of friendship and romance that made your love for each other feel depthless.

If only you knew back then that your love would be tested. Would you have still sacrificed every piece of yourself to make him happy if you knew that it still wouldn’t be enough?

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas tomorrow,” you told Yuta after a long pause, a telltale sign that you were leaving and had no more room for conversation.

“If I make it to tomorrow,” Yuta retorted playfully. “Likewise. Merry Christmas.”

You smiled at him on your way out in a final goodbye. You only wanted one thing for Christmas, and that was to have Mark back in your arms. Where he belonged.

For a good minute, you meandered about the hallways, cautiously monitoring your surroundings to make sure no one was trailing you. You considered heading to the den for refuge, but Mark obviously liked it there, and you’d had enough run-ins for one night.

Instead, you opted for the in-door pool, where obviously nobody was. In front of you stood a long line of water with a set of hot tubs off to the side. It was the perfect place to clear your head without having to constantly check if there was someone out to get you.

Before you could slightly relax, you scanned the room and clocked two exits. If you couldn’t get out of the main exit for whatever reason, there was always the option of the backup door. With that pressure off your shoulders, you took off your heels and sank your feet in the pool.

Dangling your feet in the water, your mind began to race, hopping from one thought to another at a pace too painful for you to keep up with. You hated being this way. Always having to keep an eye out, never fully trusting anybody. Mark was the only person that you could turn your back to and confidently believe you’d be fine.

Once upon a time, he was your safe haven, and now you weren’t sure if you could even trust him anymore. For all you knew, he could’ve been behind all this.

It hurt to think of what you should’ve been, of the happy, oblivious couple you were only months earlier. The couple that didn’t go to bed angry or sleep in different rooms, too stubborn to spend the night beside each other. There was no problem the two of you couldn’t sort out back then.

You started to wonder if Yuta was right about everything he said. First of all, Jeno didn’t kill Doyoung. It wasn’t that quick. He attacked him first, but you all had Doyoung’s blood on your hands. Literally.

You only wished you could’ve seen Yuta’s point of view. Jeno was admittedly happy when you and Mark finally broke up, though you figured it was because he didn’t want to see you suffer, not because he wanted you to be with him instead.

Worst of all, Yuta told you that Mark still wasn’t over you. And you hated it. If you wanted Mark and Mark wanted you, then why weren’t you together?

Then, you remembered. The lack of compatibility that burned your happy home together down to a crisp. Things failed because Mark wanted to conquer. You refused to be taken. What made him feel ignored made you feel free. What made you feel inhibited made him feel secure. When he started to feel unwanted, he pushed you away.

Your love was a slow burn till the end. All of those years of pining for each other turned into you pining away from heartbreak, eating your heart out for a boy you were destined to never have at all.

You hated knowing that you and Mark would’ve never worked out whether you dated or not. Maybe because you knew that if you didn’t have Mark, then you had no one. It simply wasn’t written in the stars.

Mark was the only one who knew your biggest fears. Your motivations. He knew firsthand the irreversible impact Doyoung’s death had on the rest of your life, because you confided only in him about the shame. You weren’t scared of being naked with Mark. He saw the ugliest bits of you and it wasn’t what sent him running.

It was hard to explain to anybody that wasn’t there, but nothing was the same after Doyoung died. Thanks to your parents’ status, you were already used to being careful, but it was nothing like the girl you were after fighting for survival. It was your first time fighting for anything.

Every inch of you was alive and awake, perpetually on fight mode. Mark wasn’t just the sole place where you could exist peacefully; he understood your trauma and loved you with every fiber of his being in spite of it.

That was why you couldn’t be with any other guy. How could you explain those nights when you woke up screaming in terror? Mark didn’t ask questions. He just held you and told you that you were safe in his arms.

If you couldn’t have Mark, then you knew you were meant to die alone.

The sound of a door pushing open made you immediately stand up, preparing to take off without your heels. They would only slow you down anyways. You saw Mark enter and, rather than cool down, your stiff muscles were overloaded with apprehension.

“I have an idea and I’m prepared to argue with you about it,” were the first words to come out of Mark’s mouth, speaking before you could dare to, as if he knew you’d have something to say.

You played it cool, though your heartbeat was harshly thudding in your ears. “What do you want now?”

Mark took your tone in stride. “We should travel in pairs. As they say, safety in numbers.”

Your face tensed in disgust. “And why in the hell would I want to travel with you?”

Mark didn’t skip a beat. “Because if I’m the killer, you’re the only one that stands a chance against me.”

You folded your arms. Mark almost grinned looking at you, but resisted. It was like your favorite pose ever. “I thought you said you didn’t kill Jodie?”

“Technically, I said that I didn’t try to kill Johnny,” Mark answered, a sly smile on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore,” you replied coolly. Not after you broke it. And me.

“Good. You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you. We don’t have reasons to. But let’s at least be forward with our intentions here,” Mark said, stepping closer. “I intend to survive. And you?”

“I intend to survive as well,” you asserted.

Mark added forthrightly, “And we’ll do anything to live, even if it means killing someone else for our own sake. We’re not strangers to sacrificing other people for our benefit.”

You heaved a breath and groaned impatiently, “So what? This is some truce or something?”

“Or something,” Mark replied with enough uncertainty to make you overwhelmingly suspicious. “We’d just be working together. Who says that you have to trust me?”

You hated that you were seriously considering it, but he was making a pretty decent point. It was stupid to be by yourself. You had to admit it, even as somebody that valued her independence like it was your lifeline.

Mark recognized you in conflict with yourself, even as you tried your hardest to appear neutral. After all those years spent by each other’s side, he guessed it was simply natural. Your bottom lip stuck out, though only slightly. You were giving it your best shot at keeping composed.

You weighed the pros and cons in your head. If you didn’t pair with Mark, you would be more vulnerable, but if you did, it would be increasingly difficult to ignore having to confront the whirlwind of feelings he left you to soak in.

You didn’t want that, but it wasn’t like you wanted to die either. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, you relented. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Mark grinned victoriously. “Two heads are better than one.”

That was what you used to think. It used to be enough to simply look into Mark’s eyes, knowing that he was there. Now you couldn’t stand to be beside him. “Not when they’re bumping into each other,” you grumbled.

Mark cocked a brow. “Then, let’s not make this about us. Let’s focus on survival. That’s our common interest here.”

Obviously, that was easier said than done, but you didn’t argue or complain. This was a rare moment of Mark willing to set your differences aside for a better purpose. At least for now, you intended to behave.

Plus you wanted to see how long the two of you could go before Mark started barking. He looked sweet, but if anybody thought Mark was all sugar and rainbows, they clearly hadn’t met him. This boy was all fire.

And you were air; gentle as a featherlight, ocean breeze, but capable of roaring like a tornado if provoked. Forceful enough to spread his flames out further, but not to blow them out. Mark was untameable. You had that in common.

It sounded corny, but it was the truth. You bettered one another in some ways, but enabled one another in others. Your similarities seemed to work against you, neither of you wanting to set your pride aside.

That was the problem. If you pushed, Mark pushed back harder. If Mark screamed, you screamed back louder. It was like a fucking seesaw that you couldn’t get off of.

Rationally, an important question kept prodding at your ribcage. “How did you even find me?” you asked.

“I had to look everywhere,” Mark said, slight exasperation in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t be out in the open, so it was just a matter of finding out where you were hiding.”

You nodded. That would have to be a satisfactory response. You weren’t going to press him about it. “Okay, but if we’re going to be a team, we need to try and figure out who’s killing and what’s going on.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know. Have you been seeing anything suspicious lately? I noticed Jaehyun creeping out like he’s got something to hide.”

Your brows furrowed. “Seriously? I did too. When I was talking to Jeno in the elevator. Chungha looked a little suspicious, too.”

Mark obviously didn’t expect that. “You’re kidding. You know how Jaehyun said that he was downstairs when the gun went off?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I saw Jaehyun coming from down the hall, where I also noticed Chungha come from. She came after him, but it looked timed. Kinda like how we used to leave at different times so nobody would think we were together.”

The mention of those times sent you back, perfectly calculating the ideal time to exit the same room without raising suspicions amongst your friends and foes.

Bidding the thoughts to go away, you quickly recovered, mentioning, “That’s odd. I don’t know if it’s connected, but earlier when I was talking to Jaehyun, he excused himself to go upstairs.”

“Before the gun went off?” Mark asked, skeptical.

You leaned down to fix the strap of your heel, which you’d slipped back on after you realized the intruder was only Mark, discerning that he was no threat. “Yeah, somebody texted him. From the face he was making, it looked urgent. I just assumed one of his relatives messaged him and he went to god knows where upstairs to take a call.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. Disappointment, maybe. “They’re in cahoots, that’s for sure.”

You pressed, “But why in the hell would Jaehyun and Chungha be working together? They’re not even on the same side.”

“Motives to kill,” Mark sighed, face twisted cutely in thought. It was so stressful pretending that you weren’t attracted to every little thing he did. His eyes widened a little and he said, “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“It’s common knowledge that when Johnny’s mom died, she left him to take over the family business, while Jaehyun got stuck with real estate…,” Mark trailed.

You quickly noticed where this was going and added, “Jaehyun always wanted to be the chief executive. Ever since we were teenagers, it was all he talked about.”

Mark tapped his chin. “I still remember what it was like. I couldn’t tell if he was more depressed about his stepmother dying, or not inheriting her multimillion dollar business.”

“You think he’s still holding that grudge?”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows?”

You subconsciously scratched your forearm. You didn’t realize, but Mark did. It was something you often did when you were anxious, which was basically all of the time. “Chungha’s been paying an awful lot of attention to Johnny’s jewelry case.”

“She likes anything bright and shiny,” Mark responded, thinking nothing of it. “Why? You think she stole something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “I think anything’s possible, but I don’t think it’s worth killing over. I mean, she’s not just rich. She’s wealthy. She can afford her own diamonds.”

Trying to figure those two out was like attempting to unravel the identity of Jack the Ripper. Jaehyun was composed and Chungha was vigilant. Their guarded natures combined made them both mysterious and lethal.

Mark couldn’t wrap his head around it, either. But he was certain that those two were up to no good. “Well, we’ve got their motives. Let’s try to think of the others.”

“Johnny told me he and Haechan got into an argument before the party. He looked pretty pissed earlier,” you recalled.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Mark said. When a guy who sent earthquakes wherever he went was agitated, it was impossible for the whole world not to notice.

“Speaking of holding grudges,” you started, gathering any pieces you could find and linking them with each other. “Johnny left Yuta at that shack and because of it he got an injury that almost cost him soccer.”

Mark didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, but Yuta’s been playing soccer just fine for years now. Plus he told Johnny to leave to find that weapon.”

“The reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

Mark was silent for a long time, cautiously contemplating. “What about Jeno?”

You were irked at the mention of your best friend, but knew that nobody was totally off the table. Not even yourself. You played innocent. “What about him?”

Mark exhaled a breath, but laughed. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, or if you’ve truly never noticed how much Jeno’s into you. You can’t seriously think him attacking Doyoung was an accident.”

Yuta had already brought you up to speed on the whole jealousy killer Jeno theory between Mark and his pals, which you were none too convinced about. “If Jeno’s the killer, I don’t understand what he’d get out of killing Johnny or Jodie. By your logic, that means you should be dead. Not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe Johnny likes you.”

“Ignoring the ridiculousness of that statement…”

Mark interjected before you could continue, “Is it so ridiculous? You and Johnny dated, and it was your decision to break things off. You were never in love with him, but have you ever considered that maybe Johnny loved you?”

You hadn’t really considered it, you always assumed Johnny knew he was doing you a favor and it was nothing more or less, but that didn’t stop you from snapping, “Jeno knows where I stand with Johnny. That I was never in love with him. Why would he kill a man that isn’t a threat?”

“Did you like Doyoung back?”

“No,” you hissed.

Mark shot, “And you don’t see him walking around here, do you? You said it yourself: the reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

“I think that says more about the faultiness of your theory than mine.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word in.

You sneered, “And are you seriously going to ignore the fact that Jodie was killed? Carved out like a pumpkin. That sounds like something only somebody with a lot of rage for her would do.”

Mark was losing patience, you could tell from the look on his face. “Are you implying that I killed her?”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. But you were pretty nonchalant over the fact that you got an innocent girl killed,” you replied, definitely insinuating that he was responsible. “Outside of being tainted by your touch, that is.”

“Maybe you did it,” Mark snapped.

You rolled your eyes. This was the second time you’d gotten this accusation today and you weren’t keen on hearing it again, but Mark was already yapping before you could tell him not to bother.

“You couldn’t stand to see me with a girl that wasn’t you,” he said, a turmoil of wildfire dancing in his pupils. “So you got rid of her.”

You threw your head back and grunted, “Oh, fuck’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Get over me,” Mark hissed. “We’ve been over for months. It was never gonna work, you know? Everything’s sunshine and rainbows during the honeymoon phase.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, turning away and heading for the door. You didn’t know why you thought he was capable of having a civil conversation with you. So much for not making this about us.

Mark grabbed your arm, glaring at you in disapproval. “I’m sorry, was this too much pressure for you? You couldn’t handle the heat and now you’re walking away again?”

You screamed, “You pushed me away!”

“Because you pushed me first,” Mark yelled, matching your energy. Matter of fact, what you gave, he doubled it and handed it back tenfold. And vice versa.

Running your hands down your face, you wanted to scratch your skin off with your nails. “Dude. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all those times you made me feel like you didn’t want me. All those times you left me alone without a reason why. You got so distant on me, baby. Really had me wondering if there was somebody else.”

Somebody else? You couldn’t believe he was serious. Your heart would never want anybody that wasn’t Mark, because she knew he was the only one that could satisfy her.

Your face softened for a fraction of a second. “All I wanted was you.”

“You sure had a funny way of showing it,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

Guilt flickered in your eyes, stinging them to crystals, but you didn’t let them fall. “I needed space. I liked being with you, but not at the expense of losing touch with my soul. I needed room to breathe.”

Mark frowned. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

You asked just as quickly, “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“It felt like a waste of time. I thought you already decided that you didn’t want me. That you were just another girl who underestimated how much attention I need.”

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly. Amused, but angry. “You fight, but for all the wrong reasons.”

Mark’s eyes flitted towards yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you wouldn’t fight for us to stay together, but you’ll shout in my face at literally any other given opportunity.”

Mark reined in his head, running his hands through his hair. “Listen, I’m no good at this relationship stuff.”

“I know.”

That made Mark bristle. It wasn’t just his fault, but you refused to hold yourself accountable. “You’re no expert, either.”

“I know,” you sighed, lips curled into a frown.

Mark’s eyes flickered.

It appeared you were finally realizing how egregiously the two of you had mutually fucked up. “We didn’t talk. And that was okay. Our problems were small enough that after we climbed into bed with each other they were long forgotten. But then they got bigger and we didn’t know what to do, other than what we’d always done.”

Mark scratched the back of his head. “But it didn’t work. The problem was still there.”

Part of the reason why you two never worked through the issue was because you failed to specifically identify the problem. Mark didn’t just want to be loved, he demanded it. And he did it by completely seizing power over your mind, body, and soul.

Your mind in life. Your body in bed. Your soul in everything in between.

You didn’t like to feel dominated in that way. It made you dig into your heels. Letting Mark exercise this assertive power over you, letting him have control over the tiniest piece of you that was left, it felt like a betrayal. To yourself, and to the dead.

Because you were still clinging to that girl. That girl whose hands were clear of blood and didn’t spend hours scrubbing under her nails away a stain that wasn’t really there. The girl who didn’t take that final blow to her friend’s chest and watch the light in his eyes dim until he was gone.

It was cruel and unforgivable, but even with the hurt on Doyoung’s face, there was an understanding twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen it, for a tiny fraction of a second. Or maybe you imagined it so that it would be simpler to live with the crippling guilt.

You were the girl he loved and the last thing he saw. Every anniversary, you swore one of the stars in the sky twinkled brighter.

I didn’t have a choice; it was him, or all of us. What was my other option? Plus he was going to die either way. The police didn’t arrive on scene until dawn. He would have bled to his death if we didn’t finish him off.

Mark knew he was high-maintenance and he knew the toll Doyoung’s death had on you, but he somehow never exactly pieced together how it would impact your relationship. That there would be days where you didn’t want hugs or kisses. You just wanted to be left alone.

Plus Mark was so sympathetic about everything you went through and all of your feelings to the point you assumed he would just know you needed space. Somehow you had mistaken his understandingness for being a mind reader.

And Mark, somewhere along the line, sensed you drifting away, so he discarded you first. Mark didn’t get abandoned. It wasn’t in his nature to stick around when he knew he was on the brink of being cast aside, left high and dry.

He wanted to be loved, but he wanted to love himself. And he was not against hurting himself, because the pain was easier to cope with than if he let somebody else hurt him.

At least he thought it would be.

“We couldn’t just fuck and make up anymore, so we started to argue over petty things, and we never got to the core of the matter,” you said, picturing yourself back in that living room, shouting.

Mark remembered, because it was all he’d been thinking about for months, asking himself what was the final blow in spite of being aware that he was the one who chose to break up. “Pillowtalk was the only time we really discussed our emotions. Remember?”

God, how could you not? This boy would fuck the shit out of you then snuggle you to sleep immediately after, chatting about anything under the sun (or moon) until your eyelids got too heavy and started to flutter closed.

You simply nodded your head, unable to open your mouth. Though you both were being vulnerable, you were afraid of what you might’ve said.

Mark chuckled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always had these doubts about you, to be honest. You were too good to be true. Most girls get tired of me after a minute so I never stay too long, but you’ve been in my life since we were kids.”

Your eyes were sad when you glanced into his. “So why did you leave me? Why didn’t you fight?”

Mark’s eyes twinkled with regret as he whispered, “I was scared of being abandoned by the girl I loved. So I dipped. I ran before you could tell me that it was over. It gave me some kind of agency over my heartbreak.”

You laughed in disbelief. This breakup was so dramatic, and for what? “In hindsight, we’re just a pair of fucking idiots,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. “Imagine if we just talked about this months ago. It could’ve all been so simple.”

Mark hung his head in shame, resting his hand at his nape. It would’ve spared him some pain. And so many tears.

“I’ve spent months thinking that I don’t deserve love because of what I did that night. Because if I can’t have you, Mark, then there’s nobody else out there for me,” you told him, releasing the words you’d been holding back for eons.

Mark blinked, processing. Then, deciding he was short of words, he said, “I’m done talking,” and smashed his lips against yours. You were surprised, but immediately molded your lips into his, feeling his hands instinctively get a hold of your hips.

It had been a lifetime since you’d last felt his touch on your skin and to say you missed it would be an understatement. Your body felt like it was being reawakened, dormant sensations coming back to life again.

Two star-crossed lovers, discreetly meeting each other for one final rendezvous before your individual lives inevitably drove a wedge between your passionate sparks. That, or death. For now, you were content to be in each other’s hold, kissing like it was the last time.

As your bodies swung in each other’s embrace, you noticed Mark’s feet dancing dangerously close to the edge of the pool. “Careful,” you warned, shuffling him out of the way. “Don’t want your flames to get doused.”

Mark snickered. “Please, baby. I have enough fire for the both of us.”

“I know you do. That’s what I love about you.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that. You loved him? You didn’t know how long he had been waiting to hear you say that. And it made him remember what you told him only moments ago before his brain went blank. “I love you. Don’t ever think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”

Your chest filled with warmth, but you purred, “Or else what?”

Leaning into you, Mark nibbled at your ear a little before whispering, “Or else I’ll have to show you how much you mean to me.”

It was difficult to play nonchalant. Your heart was skipping beats now. You wanted Mark desperately and it drove you to the brink of insanity. “Oh, no. I’m so afraid.”

Mark grinned, dragged you away to a padded chaise.

You sat there, your entire body excited, but your brain (at least for now) was still capable of thinking rationally and you asked, “Are we seriously about to fuck in a pool chair?”

“We’ve fucked in worse places and done even worse things,” Mark replied offhandedly, thinking about nothing but getting his hands on those pretty thighs of yours.

You pressed your lips together, aware that you had little to zero grounds for argument. Bathrooms weren’t even anywhere close to the most outlandish location you and Mark had decided would be an apt backdrop for sexual intercourse. Those places were unspeakable.

Mark took your silence as a victory and whispered silkily, “Sit back and relax, baby.”

You giggled. Mark had never left you unsatisfied. A time with this boy’s head between your legs was guaranteed to be a sacrilegiously fulfilling experience.

Mark grabbed your left leg, draping it over the side of the chair so that he wouldn’t have to literally bend over backwards to go down on you, and when he noticed the gun poking out of your thigh holster, he laughed. “With your permission, I wanna take your gun. If it makes you feel better, I’ll set mine aside, too.”

You let him take your gun and disarm the weapon before setting it on a poolside table wedged between the chaise you were currently occupying and another. If this was some ruse to get you unarmed, Mark was simply stupid. He would’ve had way better opportunities moments prior.

But it wasn’t. Mark was tugging your panties down your ankles, something you were certain he wouldn’t bother to do if he had murder on his mind. You usually felt naked when you were bare of a weapon, but something about Mark naturally made you relax.

Your dress rode up above your hips, giving him complete access to your dripping pussy. Just thinking about what he was about to do to you, you swore, breathing became the most difficult chore.

Mark took one fucking glimpse at your glistening pussy and almost howled like a goddamn wolf. Instead, the sound that emerged from the back of his throat was identical, animalistic and ravenous as if he couldn’t wait to dig into a full course.

The comparison wasn’t far off, because as soon as he stopped staring hungrily at you in a way that made you shift, slightly self-conscious, his calloused palms were clasping your thighs tightly and his mouth was flush against your throbbing core.

“Jesus. Fuck,” you moaned, thighs tensing already. And he just started. To be fair, it had been a couple of months since anybody’s hands - or mouth - had touched you there. You had been unable to give yourself to anybody that wasn’t Mark, which you felt like a total fool for when you saw him boo’d up with Jodie.

And yet here you were, still letting him have his way with you, giving him the power to break you down and build you back up as he pleased. Your breaths were quick, your lips parting in a shaky exhale at every pass of his tongue against your glistening folds.

It reminded him of the past couple of years, sneaking around to fuck in the most isolated location you could possibly find. All of those times he mounted you on a fancy bathroom counter to get his head between your thighs, or fucked you there so hard the mirrors clouded.

All Mark knew was sex and destruction, and half of the time, those things came hand in hand. For a minute, he was more than that with you. Until you were gone and he knew he was at least partly to blame. He wanted to prove to you that he was more than your reckless lover.

Though that would have to be put on hold. As of right now, his intentions consisted only of wrecking you.

“God, I missed the way you taste,” Mark grumbled with a mouthful of pussy.

His voice was deep and handsome, and so sexy that you likely could’ve nutted then and there, too aroused to keep a rein on yourself. Mark had that effect on you and the worst part was that he knew it. Sex used to be a game of seduction, teasing each other for hours to see who would break first.

Of course, you folded the better half of the time. Mark had fucking cheat codes. This boy knew your every weakness and used them to his advantage. The hell were you supposed to do when he made you watch recordings of the previous times he’d pleasured you? Not kiss the very ground that he walked on?

Pfft. Yeah, right. Though you never went down without stating in defense, “You cheated!”

Oh, fuck Mark. He just had to be so good with his hands. And a pleaser.

You always got your lick back, though. Mark may have won in the first half, but you knew exactly how to take him down. First, you had to make him think that he’d already won. Then, you had to return the favor, making him swear he saw stars. That was how you kept the balance.

Mark’s tongue was expertly navigating your clit and you wanted to be mad at it, but all you could bring yourself to do was writhe in the gray chaise. Had not his hands been locking your thighs in place, you would’ve snapped them closed in sensitivity. Mark was not to be underestimated. This boy was way stronger than he seemed.

You resigned yourself to the fact that your only option was to lie there and take it all. There was nowhere for you to escape. When it felt too good, it was a telltale warning that Mark would seize control of your whole body, and you were torn between fleeing and letting him have it.

“Don’t try to run away from it, baby,” he whispered knowingly, though he knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of the satisfaction you were promised. “I’ve got you.”

You rolled your hips into his face in a hurried pursuit for relief, desperately wishing you had something to anchor yourself with and lower you back down to earth, but Mark had brought you to a constantly ascending high.

Mark chuckled, because he knew he had your body down to a science. If you thought it couldn’t get anymore dangerously intense than this, you were wrong as hell and had another thing coming. Mark released one of your thighs, gathering your arousal on his sticky fingers, and fucked it right back into you.

You gawked. You almost couldn’t believe he was making a mess out of you like this, but then you remembered that he was Mark fucking Lee. Taking your breath was what he did best. His mouth was still on you, sucking and licking, because you were the closest thing to heaven he would ever know and he couldn’t get enough.

All the while, he thumbed your clit, making a tremble roar through your utter being and your toes clench, tucking into themselves.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered in the tiniest voice.

“I know,” Mark replied, pulling back. “What did you think I was doing all the extra shit for?”

You winced your eyes closed and heaved the thickest breath, attempting to regain control over your body, but to absolutely no avail. That was when you came to terms with your fate. Mark was going to finish you off.

“You know what I want. Let go for me,” Mark whispered darkly. “Do it on my fingers.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you chanted, feeling something tense in your belly. The pleasure blending with the yearning created a sensation unlike any other. Your whole figure was engulfed in flames, scorching you from head to doe.

It was closing in. You could feel sin’s darkly cloaked hand reeling you in, pulling you closer and closer, and closer to the jagged edge. There was no point in struggling; you were in nature’s grasp now and whatever happened was entirely up to her.

As someone who prided himself on his ability to please, Mark took great delight in pleasuring you and it was no shock that he knew exactly how to coax you towards climax. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let it all go. I’ve got you.”

Finally, you started to cum, ecstasy shooting through your body every which way in the form of uncontrollable warmth, making your head feel light and your toes curl. Mark’s encouraging words became static to your ears, your senses totally overpowered, the life leaving your body for all but a split second.

Mark was sporting the slyest of grins, watching you wind back down as if he was marveling at his own handiwork. You should’ve been singing his praises, applauding him for his grand efforts. “There you go. Good fucking girl.”

Sex was one of the most powerful weapons in Mark’s arsenal. He sucked at relationships, but he could only walk away after claiming the best nut of your life.

After a moment or two out of the atmosphere, you came back to the ground, having just stopped tightening around Mark’s digits and shuddering involuntarily. You raised your eyes to meet his own, chest undulating. Gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. “Fuck you. You are the devil.”

Mark snickered, reluctantly recouping his fingers from between your legs. “Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck. I always loved that dirty mouth of yours.”

You rolled your eyes. He must’ve forgotten how good you were at taking back everything he stole from you and giving him damage tenfold in retaliation. Those sets of expletives would be escaping his pretty pink lips any minute now. This was only the beginning of the end.

Throwing your leg back down, you climbed out of the chaise, standing to your feet with a little stumble.

“Whoa there, baby. Be careful,” Mark said, grabbing a hold of your wobbling frame and holding you flush against his chest. “I’d hate it if something bad happened to you.”

God, you were weak in the fucking knees for this man. Literally.

You grabbed Mark by his suit tie and pushed him back first onto the chaise. His eyes went wide in surprise, but he quickly recovered and grinned. “Damn, babe. I like where this is going.”

You chuckled, crawling on top of him and pulling his face into yours. Mark’s hands were below your ribs, holding you in his arms while the two of you made out for what felt like an eternity. In the best way ever.

Mark grunted none too quietly when you felt his tight bulge pressed sharply to your core and mischievously got the clever idea to grind against it. The sound had you throbbing again, desperate to mount his cock then and there, but you were bent on teasing him at your own expense.

The wet smack of your lips meeting only enhanced your arousal further and while you did a significantly better job at keeping composed, Mark was losing his mind by the minute.

His hands dropped from your skin to his pants in an attempt to free his aching cock, but you were quicker, gathering his wrists in your palms and pinning them over his head. “Mm-mm. My turn, baby. Just… sit back and relax,” you mimicked, refusing to let him take the wheel.

Mark let you have your way with him. Frankly, he would let you do whatever you pleased.

You did the honor of unfastening Mark’s pants, pulling them and his underwear down his thighs just enough for his stiff cock to spring to attention. You licked your lips, salivating. The tension in your core got even tighter.

Mark groaned when you pressed your lips to the head of his cock, kissing it tenderly. That understanding, patient guy was nowhere to be found when his dick was involved. Or at least when he wasn’t the giver. Instead, Mark was less than human, a voracious beast that longed to feed.

Your tender kisses became delicate licks, neither of which provided Mark very much relief and you were aware. “Fuck. Baby,” he called out to you, hopeful that you’d quit the games soon. “Do something.”

“Something like… this?” you asked, gripping his hard cock and pumping him in your fist. Then, seconds later, you sucked him into your mouth, making all of the air flee Mark’s lungs.

Mark immediately cursed loudly. His cock hadn’t known this amount of relief since he left you and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Little did you know, Mark hadn’t fucked anyone else since you, either. It would’ve felt like cheating, like a betrayal, even though he knew that you were over.

Probably why Jodie had been throwing herself onto Johnny, hoping to get some dick, because the boy that brought her there only wanted to kiss her when you were there.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned like it was the only word he knew. It probably was, all things considered. It wasn’t uncommon for his mind to go blank when your lips were airtight around his cock. His whole body shuddered in sensitivity, having been aroused since he started eating you out.

And you were just sitting there, straddling him like a little devil, doing things to his cock that had him rethinking his whole life. Nobody had ever riled him up like this. Nobody instinctively knew how to get him off this quickly. Nobody, but you.

Mark was looking at you with a certain darkness when he somehow summoned enough willpower to ask, “Don’t finish me yet. Please.”

You came up for air, but obeyed his request. You were well aware that you could finish him both ways, but there was no way of knowing how much time you had left before something inevitably demanded your attention, and you wanted to ride him so badly it made your head spin.

Mark could finally breathe, but he should’ve known that it would’ve been short-lived. You didn’t waste a second to grab his cock and mount him, slowly but certainly sinking down to take it all.

Your wet walls were quick to clamp down on his thick cock, drawing a deep, low swear out of Mark’s lips. Your nails gripped his shoulders for purchase, eyes winced closed, taking a minute to relish in the feeling of being full again contentedly.

“Mark,” you whimpered, feeling yourself throb and tighten. You could’ve cried at the relief, so thrilled to be as close to Mark as your bodies could physically be again, and selfishly still aching for more.

Mark blinked through the haze in his mind that you had single-handedly constructed, thrown back into the mist the second he heard you call out his name. His eyes closed, mind flickering with images of you, recalling all of those times you rode the soul out of his dick.

You were an ethereal seductress, Mark was convinced, deceptively leading him to peril, rendering him helpless at the mercy of your enchanting charms. Your body did unspeakable things to him. With how tight you were around his cock, Mark would follow you to his demise.

Was it fucked up to have sex while people were dying all around you? Yes. But that’s what you and Mark were. Two fucked up kids who never got healing.

You felt healed when you were with each other, stripped to your truest forms, without fear of judgment. Mark taught you how to let go. You taught Mark how to let himself be loved.

At least you made up before you fucked. In your opinion? That was progress.

“Fuck, you ride me so good. I swear, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” Mark said, obsessed with your every motion as you rocked your hips down onto his cock, resuscitating all of those carnal sensations you woke up inside his soul.

The best I’ve ever had. Your mind was spiraling, faint from the heat burning your bodies up a thousand degrees hotter. Your body was built to take him, or at least it felt that way. Like the satisfaction you got from each other could only exist between the two of you.

Again, you grabbed Mark by his tie, pulling him in for another heart-stopping kiss. There was no hesitation. He kissed you back devilishly, getting a hold of your waist tightly, sucking on your tongue without bothering to be clean or slow about it.

You could kiss Mark until the day you died. You never wanted to forget how he tasted in your mouth. How he felt pressed flush against your semi-naked skin, your soft lips. How he looked at you like you were the only woman he’d ever loved, ruined for any other girl.

Mark wanted to complain when you parted from his lips, but suddenly they were on his neck and he sensed a shiver run down his spine, shock and pleasure taking the sound before it dared to leave his mouth. Your teeth grazed his collarbone, finding his pulse and sucking at it.

You watched Mark melt on the spot and giggled. Your friends and his friends were definitely going to clock the bright red marks on his throat, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. If you wanted to suck and nibble at his neck, then by all means, Mark would let you do whatever you wanted.

Mark’s guttural groans were your greatest vice, making you noticeably throb around him, which thus only yanked a mouth-watering hiss out of his lips. He was looking at you through fluttering eyes, the corners of his vision dark and reeling, watching you ruin him from below.

To be fair, you already ruined him. All those days Mark spent waiting for you, waiting to hold you, were days of complete and total annihilation. Not only the ones after the breakup, but before it. Those days where he only watched you from afar, dwelling on you. Pining for you.

You separated from his neck to say, “God fucking damn. I love your dick. I love the way you feel inside me.”

As if Mark wasn’t already fighting off his looking orgasm. “Yeah?”

“No one will ever feel as good as you. I just wanna keep you close to me like this, Mark. Forever. I don’t want anything to come between us ever again and I won’t let it.”

“Me, too,” Mark wheezed, his breaths barely enough to keep him alive, though he didn’t mind it because he had you. You were on top of him, killing him softly and giving him life all at the same time, and it was more than he could handle.

You could tell from his tone of voice that he was dangling over the edge and was attempting to stave off his impending orgasm, holding himself at bay. Mark didn’t want this to end so soon. You just came back into his life and he wasn’t keen on letting go of those endorphins.

It wasn’t like you were far from release yourself. You couldn’t resist it, not when Mark kept making those sexy fucking sounds and your bodies were exchanging warmth. You couldn’t wait to take him to bed properly, bones tensing with the very desire to do things to him that you sadly couldn’t do here.

Mark felt the same way. He wished your clothes were completely off, but this would have to suffice for now and that was fine. This was enough to kill any man. Your soft sighs as you rolled your perfect hips, your bodies skin to skin, directly absorbing everything you did to each other.

You were too good to be true, as Mark said. He oftentimes thought he was dreaming. It was unbelievable that a girl of your caliber could love him through each of his many flaws and proudly stake her claim to him, and in a way, that was what you were doing now. Telling the whole universe that you were Mark’s and you didn’t give a fuck who saw.

Mark’s eyes tightened closed. You were making short work of him and he was minutes away from coming undone. Maybe seconds.

Taking one look at you Mark was both relieved and shattered out of his goddamn mind. For one, you were obviously also standing at the very threshold of climax, though he could’ve pieced that together from how vigorously you were riding him. To say the least.

But for two, you looked bewitching as hell with your face tensed in pleasure, and it was making the blood rush to Mark’s cock.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Mark cursed, because they were the only words that would come to his head, other than the occasional, “Jesus Christ.” It was safe to say that you had him right where you wanted him; so far over the edge that there was no returning. No going back.

You moaned his name, preparing to take him there. Mark was already gone. He blew his long blond hair out of his face so that he could take a better look at you, going to town like no other before you.

Mark hoped that you wouldn’t finish him earlier than he needed, that you wouldn’t pull out all of your priceless tricks, but he would’ve been naive to truly believe that you would let him off that easily. No, you wanted to wreck him thoroughly. The same way that he had wrecked you.

At long last it was time to reap what he’d sowed. And you absolutely did not intend to show him any mercy. You wanted to see him at his worst.

Finally, you leaned into Mark’s ear like he feared that you would, whispering in the velvetest voice you could, “Come on, baby. I know that you’re close. Don’t you wanna finish inside me?”

You hit the jackpot. Mark’s brain faltered at the thought of releasing his load inches deep inside of you, imagining the sated noise that you would make when you sensed him empty his balls inside of you. “Fuck.” The temptation burned hotter than before, sending tingles through his limbs.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told Mark in a shockingly level voice, though he could still hear a slight tremble in your tone. “And I want you to cum with me. Please?”

Mark bobbed his head. You were so deep in his head that he would do whatever you wanted, no matter how insane the request. Plus that sweet tone you were using on him was getting under his skin, making his face strain.

You quickened your pace, pulling out all of the stops to get him to finish, knowing he was weak and defenseless against your methods. Mark started to shudder and it became obvious that his fight was over. It was a telltale hint. You were going to get him off.

And then it hit him. It sped into him like a semi-truck on the interstate, a head-on collision that burst into an uncontrollable path of fire, setting him off. Mark cursed in the lowest tone he could make as he finally orgasmed, a steadfast grip on your hips.

His hips bucked up into yours as he rode out his high, releasing every drop of semen into your hot vice-like pussy. You moaned like he knew you would at the sensation, trembling with your second release, nails digging into his shoulders that were (thank fuck) safeguarded by his suit.

After all was said and done, you collapsed onto his chest, panting for breath. Mark took a few blinks to try and clear the misty look out of his eyes. They were dark and soulless, thanks to you. For half a minute, he swore he couldn’t barely see a damn thing.

Neither of you wanted to move for the longest time. You desperately wanted to remain there in Mark’s arms and he was content with just holding you there. Though in favor of looking presentable lest somebody caught you, you forced yourself to come up off his softening cock, grabbing a pool towel to clean up your mess.

Mark stubbornly fixed his clothes, though with the look on his face, all you could liken him to was a heartbroken puppy that nobody wanted to play with. “Dude. It’s already over.”

You checked your phone and chuckled, “Mark, it’s been like an hour.”

Right as you were about to set your phone back down on the poolside table, it vibrated in your hand, your screen flashing brightly. You glanced at it again, noticing a message from Johnny. Living room. Now.

You noticed Mark’s phone had also pinged when you flitted your gaze to him. “Johnny?”

“Yup,” Mark replied, suspicious. “What do you think? Set up?”

You huffed, “A hell of a smart one. Even if it is, we’ve got to go check it out.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna go home with you,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

You frowned, patting his back. This night would be over eventually, whether the daylight came first or Johnny ceasing it brought it on.

Mark stepped back, letting you tug your dress back down. You were wearing your thinking face again so it came to him as no shock when you asked, “Who do you think did it?”

“I don’t know. We’re all capable of the unspeakable.”

“That’s what scares me,” you whispered.

Mark’s lips made a line.

The two of you grabbed your weapons, tucking them back into their hiding spots. After making sure you looked presentable, you and Mark emerged from the pool area, not bothering to look like you weren’t together or you still loathed each other.

You loved Mark and Mark loved you. Why should you hide?

To your misfortune, you and Mark were the last to arrive, which inevitably gathered unwanted attention. Your attention, however, was on the gash on Jeno’s arm, and you came up to him to ask fretfully, “What the hell happened?”

“While you and Mark were obviously busy making babies, somebody attacked Jeno. At least we know it wasn’t you two,” Haechan said, the perfect balance of sweetness and venom in his tone.

Johnny glared, but continued, “That, and I noticed something from my case was missing. My mother’s necklace was stolen.”

You and Mark knowingly glanced at each other. It was you that said, “Well, I’m not saying she did it, but Chungha’s been paying very close attention to your case lately.”

Jeno hissed, “Is that what you’re worried about right now? I need a doctor! Johnny, you can’t possibly think we’re staying here all fucking night so that you can play Benoit Blanc.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. If I wanted something, I would just ask. But your mother’s necklace? Johnny, I’m your friend,” Chungha replied as if it was the most absurd accusation ever.

Johnny hadn’t smiled in so long it was starting to become terrifying. And you honestly couldn’t blame him. First somebody tried to kill him, and now his dead mother’s necklace was stolen? You’d go ballistic, but Johnny was relatively level when he said, “I consider you all my friends. And yet one of you tried to shoot me dead.”

Chunga said nothing. Her lips were in a frown.

“So we’re just going to ignore me?” Jeno asked bitterly.

“It’s a light gash, not a bullet wound. If you don’t get an infection, you will be fine,” Jaehyun told him coolly.

Jeno grumbled something under his breath incoherently.

You patted his back compassionately. There was a lot going on and it was hard to divide your attention between Jeno’s cut and Johnny’s stolen items. “I don’t understand the purpose of this meeting. Awareness? What are we doing to figure out who’s behind all this bullshit?”

Jeno hummed in agreement.

“I don’t understand the purpose of these parties,” Haechan huffed exasperatedly. “Nevermind. Yes, I do. I know exactly why we come together every fucking year. We don’t see each other to ‘keep the peace’ or ‘remember Doyoung.’ We do it to forget. Forget what happened.”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but Haechan didn’t let him. And for once, you weren’t complaining.

Haechan glanced at Johnny’s glaring face and said, “Don’t look at me like that, man. We’ve all been thinking it. I’m just the only one with enough courage to admit it. We all committed a sin. Now that we have our fancy public lives, we wanna make sure the truth stays dead and buried.”

You glanced to your feet as Haechan went on this little tangent of his. It was supposed to make you uncomfortable. How could you live comfortably with what you’d done?

"Each of you come here to save your own fucking asses, because if the media finds out that you're killers, it makes Mom and Dad look bad. That's it. That's the purpose," he ranted, ending his tirade bluntly.

Well, he sure didn't beat around the bush. But that was the Haechan that you'd always known, confident and outspoken. To his right, Yuta was standing there, nodding along at everything he said in approval.

Jeno clapped his hands together. "You know what? I can't stand this guy, but round of applause. He's right."

You couldn’t argue even if you’d wanted to. After graduation, the group was indefinitely separated into pieces, but the eight of you agreed to never speak of what happened again. Of course, all of you went on to have successful careers, mostly because of who your parents were.

Mark was the only exception. Your relationship wasn’t only private to your friends, but to the whole world. And for a weird reason. In spite of his affluence, your mother would have a heart attack if she knew you were dating somebody that wasn’t born into his wealth.

Once upon a time, Mark Lee was a regular boy from Toronto. Somebody you vouched for and let into your circle, assuring him your friends weren’t just stuck-up rich kids. And he happened to make a killing doing something he loved.

You wished you could say the same.

Johnny said nothing for a long time, standing there with his hands posed behind his frame, which made you question him. It made you recall what Jeno had told you in that elevator a couple of hours earlier. People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.

You glanced at the boy you were holding. Jeno noticed, peering back at you, but there was something different about his stare. Like there was something paining him. Then again, he did take a knife to one of his arms.

Your gaze flitted back to Johnny. But how could he be guilty? It would’ve taken an insane amount of self-assurance to think that he’d pull a stunt like this off. And Johnny had plenty, but it wasn’t in his nature. Instinctively, he was a protector. It was this man’s natural instinct to defend what he loved with his life.

Johnny leaving Yuta in that shack to search for a weapon wasn’t the whole tale. He left him there, but the weapon he found was the same one he used to kill your tormentor. This man risked his own life to put an end to the most traumatic night of your lives. Like that, the fight was over.

You narrowed your eyes. Somebody here was guilty. But it wasn’t Johnny.

“You’re all dismissed,” Johnny said after a long pause.

There was something recognizably off in Johnny’s tone, but you didn’t get the chance to ask questions, because Mark tugged you away from Jeno and led you down the hallway for all to see.

“Dude, what the hell?” you screeched.

Mark put his finger on his lips and said, “Somebody sliced up Jeno and I think that same person is framing Chungha.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” you huffed, rubbing your head. “I hope it wasn’t Haechan. He’s such a cancer.”

“Actually, he’s a Gemini.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed. “Nevermind. I love you, Mark.”

Mark still wasn’t used to hearing those words leaving your mouth again and instinctively he drew you into him, kissing you against the closest fucking wall with all of the affection within his very bones.

You were so happy that you forgot you were even there. That danger and death were sputtering and crepitating all around you, because none of it seemed to matter when you were with Mark.

“You didn’t tell me you two were back together.”

Jeno’s voice startled you back into brutal reality. You would recognize it anywhere, but the ferocity in it was foreign. And you quickly noticed the gun in his hand.

Mark tensed, but hid you behind him. He went to draw his own weapon, but Jeno threatened, “Any sudden moves and I’ll shoot.”

Your heart was racing. Fear coursed through your veins, but it was washed over by unadulterated anger. You broke out of Mark’s grasp, hissing, “What is this?”

“Baby, don’t,” Mark told you. There was worry in his eyes, but none for himself. All of it was for you.

Jeno laughed, but you could tell that deep down he was bristling. “No, let her. She just doesn’t fucking listen, does she? I told her that you were bad luck, and here she is with her tongue down your throat. You can’t save somebody that doesn’t want to be saved, Mark.”

Mark was irritated, but said nothing. Not with a gun pointed squarely at your chest.

It was overwhelmingly obvious now that Mark and his friends had been right about Jeno, but you hadn’t realized until now, when it was far too late. “You’ve been jealous this whole time?”

“Everybody else noticed that I was in love with you,” Jeno said with total vitriol. “Never you. You’re too busy sulking over Mark to pay me a lick of fucking attention.”

If it weren’t for the weapon glaring you down, you would’ve been tempted to give him a piece of your goddamn mind. The sting of the betrayal sitting in your gut numbed you to most of your fear, but not all of it.

An irrational, heartbroken man that felt entitled to your affection holding a gun? There was no telling what he would decide to do.

Jeno was spiraling and it was obvious. He was at the end of his tether which made him all the more dangerous, because that meant anything was fair game. “You know, I thought I took care of us. I thought that having Doyoung out of the picture would give you no choice but to look at me, but I was wrong. First it was Johnny. Then, it was Mark. It's like I wasn't even an option.”

Fighting back the incoming threat of tears, you shook your head and tried to keep your voice level, “You killed Doyoung so that you could have me?”

Jeno answered smartly, “Nah. That was all you, babe. But I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything for us.”

Mark wanted to pull you out of harm’s way, but Jeno cocking his gun at him made him still. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His heart was thudding so violently, twisting in his chest, because the girl he loved was in danger and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

You couldn’t tell if he was addressing you or Mark when he said, “Love is a weakness. You want to, but you don’t want to. Your brain’s telling you this, but your heart’s telling you that. Who do you listen to? What’s good and what’s bad?”

Your head was spinning. Your muscles were tensing with the overpowering urge to attack, as were Mark’s, but you knew Jeno was a threat. You coaxed sweetly, “Jeno, put the gun down. You and I, we’re friends. We can talk this out like we always have.”

That only made Jeno’s rage worse and he snapped, “That right there is your fucking problem. You think I’m stupid. Don’t you know I can tell when you’re lying to me?”

You heaved a breath. If it weren’t for Mark’s body still pressed so closely to yours, you probably would’ve panicked.

Jeno was mercurial in his feelings, switching from resentful to indifferent, to petulant like a newborn child. His voice was wounded as he confessed, “I’ve spent so long wishing that I could have you there with me. And every time it feels like I get close, there’s another guy. I’m back where I started. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you.”

You shook your head, slipping your fingers through Mark’s. “What’s your endgame then, Jeno? You know I’ll never be yours.”

“I know,” Jeno said, glaring as his eyes dropped to your intertwined hands. “And that’s why if I can’t have you, nobody will.”

There was a loud crackling in the air, so loud your ears started to ring, but you thought it was out of shock.

It was over before it even started. Mark shoved you out of the way, sending you barreling to the ground just in time for the gunshot to miss you, but pierce him through the shoulder.

Jeno wasn’t none too pleased about the bullet missing his ultimate target, but because he’d already gotten started, there was no way that he was stopping anytime soon. The second he raised his hand to fire another bullet, a second shot echoed out behind his frame.

You gasped when Jeno collapsed, a pool of blood peeking out from under him, but you crawled over to the body crouched beside him and shrieked, “Mark!”

Mark was leaning against the wall, taking inhale after exhale. You tried to reserve panic for later, taking off Mark’s coat and applying pressure to the wound. His eyes winced closed and he hissed, “Fuck! That hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’ve gotta stop the bleeding,” you replied, vision blurring from tears. You hoped to god the bullet missed his nerves.

Jaehyun came rushing over as Johnny looked over Jeno’s body, making certain that he was no longer a threat. He took his gun and said to Jaehyun, “Call emergency services.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket immediately and calling a number he had on speed dial.

“Keep the pressure on him. I know it doesn’t look that serious in the movies, but a shoulder wound can kill him,” Johnny told you, intent on sitting there until an ambulance arrived.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him pull a chain from Jeno’s coat and mumble something under his breath.

You briefly lifted one hand off Mark’s shoulder to wipe a tear away. Being with Mark again blinded you, tricking you into thinking that you’d finally be happy solely because you had Mark back, but this burst your bubble. It’d never be over. Days of living in unbroken fear would never stop. The internal warring would never end. It was a constant.

“I hate that sound,” you mumbled under your breath.

Mark’s voice was quiet, but he pressed his other hand to your forearm to let you know he was still there. “What sound?”

An invisible icy breeze crept over your shoulders, making you shudder as you replied, “Gunshots.”

“Then, we’ll go somewhere we’ll never have to hear them again. It’ll be just you and me. Maybe a family, if you want one.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Mark smiled as wide as he could, squeezing your forearm.

“And then what happened?” Maxine asked.

Mark, holding your six-year-old daughter in his lap, answered, “I went to the hospital. Your mommy rode with me in the back of an ambulance.”

Turning the corner to your bedroom with cups of hot cocoa in your hands, you threw your husband a look and asked, “Is it a good idea to be telling our children about this, Mark?”

August swiftly begged, “Wait no. We want to hear the rest of the story about how Dad got his scar. Right, Maxi?”

Maxine bobbed her head. “Mommy, please?”

Mark’s bottom lip protruded, mimicking the cute pouts and puppy eyes of your shared children. “Please, Mama?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your husband’s behavior, but he and your kids were too damn irresistible. “Oh, what the heck. Okay. Fine. Go on.”

Maxine stood on her father’s thighs, dancing excitedly in celebration. Mark watched her fondly, but kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t fall. August, on the other hand, simply smiled. He’d always been curious about you and his father’s life endeavors.

You passed cups of hot cocoa to your two kids, both of whom gave you a sweet, “Thank you.”

August took a sip and asked, “So, what happened at the hospital?”

“I had to get a surgery on my shoulder,” Mark explained. “When I woke up and I could keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time, it wasn’t Christmas eve anymore. It was New Years.”

You bobbed your head. “I spent Christmas with your father in that hospital. I was supposed to go home to have dinner with my parents and a bunch of shareholders, but I couldn’t leave his side. Especially not without knowing if he was okay.”

The only time you left was when you literally had no other option. Bathroom breaks or the doctors kindly asking for you to leave. The others occasionally came to give him a visit as well, but as long as Mark was there, that hospital was your new home.

Their company meant a lot back then. It helped not to be too lonely there from time to time. You half expected a huge, ‘I told you so’ or something from all of Mark’s friends, but they were surprisingly sympathetic.

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he woke up for good and you told him that Haechan had even hugged you.

Maxine’s eyes winced closed. “Ow! That’s hot,” she exclaimed, setting her mug on the nightstand.

“Careful, sweetie. You’ll burn yourself,” Mark said, eyes flickering with care.

Your lips curled into a grin. You liked watching Mark sometimes, like you weren’t even there. Here and there, you would peek around the corner after coming home, listening to the sounds of your husband fathering your kids. He was so attentive and patient with them. It meant everything to know your babies were in good hands.

Mark showed Maxine how to blow her hot cocoa and she mimicked his actions with cautious sips, demanding politely in between, “Keep talking. I wanna hear the rest of the story. Please?”

You chuckled. This little girl would follow up the most aggressive demand with a sweet-sounding ‘please?’

“Your mommy had to enlighten me on what happened after I went to the hospital, because I was too out of it to see the mystery unfold in real time,” Mark replied.

You nodded your head. You still remembered sitting there beside that hospital bed, ceaseless beeping fading into background noise after enough hours spent basically alone. You’d told Mark, “He tried to kill Johnny to throw off whatever investigation succeeded the shooting.”

Mark had blinked, processing. Thinking took entirely too much strength hooked to whatever equipment was keeping him alive in that damn hospital. “What about Jodie?”

“Jodie was collateral damage, maybe a surrogate. I was obviously the actual object of his rage. His endgame. It gives me chills, thinking about how he smiled in my face when he knew he wasn’t gonna leave that party till he or I was dead.”

The little flashback made you fight a sigh. People had betrayed you before, but none like that. You banished the thoughts away and kept entertaining your kids. Jeno was gone. In hell somewhere, hopefully.

As you snuggled under the blankets beside your son, he questioned curiously, “Who stabbed Jeno?”

“The medical examiner looked at him. She said the wound was obviously self-inflicted to a trained eye,” you replied with a snicker. At first, you were outraged. Nowadays, all you could do was laugh.

You weren’t even slightly worried about your kids comprehension skills as you regaled them on that ever so wonderful time in your life. Your kids were brilliant. Maybe it was all those books they liked to read, but you could have the most advanced back-and-forth conversation with those two and they would understand every single word. Sometimes it was frightening.

“And to think, he had such a fit over an injury he made himself,” Mark added, shaking his head in astonishment.

The thought made you want to roll your eyes, but another one made you want to burst into laughter. “God, do you remember his face when Jaehyun told him that he’d be fine? I think he and Johnny suspected Jeno was the killer.”

Maxine was beaming from ear to ear. “Uncle Johnny is so cool. Is he still coming over next weekend?”

You bobbed your head. “Yup. He said he has a surprise for you. And before you ask, I’m not telling.”

Maxine pouted. “Please?”

“Nope. Your cute tricks won’t work on me this time. I fortunately value my life and Uncle Johnny will kill me if I tell you,” you replied, crossing your arms.

Maxine sighed sadly. You hated it when she did that. It made you want to give her the entire universe.

Fortunately, Maxine forgot rather quickly, because she whipped around and asked her father, “Daddy, how long did it take you to heal?”

“I was all better the next day,” Mark lied through his teeth.

You deadpanned, “He’s lying. He was in the hospital for a week and it took three months before he was even slightly normal again.”

Then, you moved here. Jaehyun and Chungha came over to help you with interior design. Imagine your shock when you found out the reason they were suspiciously walking around Johnny’s penthouse was because they were sneaking around to kiss and hook up. Apparently, they were taking a page out of your book.

You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Noticing that it read eleven o’clock, you said enthusiastically, “Alright, kids. Who’s ready to open up their Christmas presents?”

There was a loud chorus of, “Me!” Your kids started to jump up and down on your bed in excitement, nearly crushing your legs, exactly as they had done when they woke you and your husband up a couple of hours ago.

Mark chimed in, “First one there gets to open up their biggest present first.”

Immediately, Maxine and August hopped off your bed, racing each other to the living room as quickly as possible before the other could get there.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Never in a billion years did you imagine having this future with Mark, but you were endlessly grateful. “Merry Christmas, love of my life.”

Mark leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby. I’ve got a little surprise gift for you later.”

“Oh?”

Mark snickered at the mischief on your face. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you get that little look on your face,” Mark replied with a sly grin.

You shook your head, but you were still smiling. “Okay. If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Okay, fine. Have it your way. I don’t care,” you groaned.

Mark was sporting the biggest smile ever. For what, you had absolutely no clue, until he pulled you for another kiss and confessed, “I’m so glad we made up that one Christmas.”

Your skin came alive against his. Your whole body was filled with bliss and wonder. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart race. “Me too, baby.”

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