#desire mia gif hunt
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I want to feel you
Well there you go guys. My smut oneshot with P x Fem!Reader. You could say it has a certain naughty plot that ends up with I think romantic and sexy... well S€X.
I hope you like it and as always thanks for reading my stuff.
WARNING! SMUT
It has been like this for a few years. [Name] would leave the safety of the hotel in the morning, two blades in each hand, a firearm strapped to her hip, and the desire to fight again. Fight for the people of Krat, who had suffered far too long. Fight for the memory of her dear friend and the one she loved so much. This motivation was the only fuel left in her body to participate in this nightmare, even if it meant returning to the hotel exhausted and tired. But after the arrival of the good puppet, things changed, there were fewer puppets to fight, the number of madmen decreased and the hope in the people's eyes began to flicker again. Geppetto's puppet, P, is a blessing to everyone.
At first, [Name] kept her distance, watching the puppet from afar. By the way Lady Antonia looked at him and spoke to him, [Name] knew that the lady had the same thoughts as she did. His pretty face, his long chestnut hair, and the way he was built all looked way too familiar. Over time, she began to close the distance between herself and the puppet, to let him into her life and to open her heart to him. P is a useful companion, P is a chance for the desired end of chaos, P is a new beginning for her broken heart.
[Name] hadn't planned to go this far. She didn't think that she would end up kissing him after he came back from a dangerous mission, she didn't think that she would whisper sweet nothings into his ear every time he visited her in her little workshop in the basement of the hotel, and she certainly didn't think that she would want to take him back to her room to devour every part of his body. The young woman had opened her heart to him and he embraced it completely. As he became more human, he began to lean into her actions, becoming needy and romantic himself. He showed the effect of her gestures and words. It made her desire burn even more. Soon [Name] had to devour him.
The two lovers entered the hotel covered in blood and oil. It was now normal for her to be accompanied by him on what she called her hunts. P has to protect her, he wants to protect her, so [Name] had no choice but to let him go with her. Step by step they climbed the stairs, both of them heading for her room. [Name] opened the door slowly and walked in, taking off everything heavy from her tired body. Her coat hit the floor while her blades and weapon were carefully placed on a table. A sound of displeasure escaped her lips as she turned her head from side to side to relieve some of the pressure on her muscles. "Ahhh, it really hurts today. I should have been more careful."
"Mia cara."
[Name] turned around as the pet name finally reached her ears. Oh, by whatever god there is, she loved to hear him call her by that name. Her orbs focused on his face. She watched as his soft lips parted slightly and his eyebrows lowered to show his concern. "Oh, my love, it's all right. A little pain didn't stop me then and it won't stop me now," she said softly as she moved closer to him. Her left hand found its way to one of his cheeks, her thumb stroking the skin. She watched as he leaned into the gesture, moving his head slightly so that her touch reached every little spot. They stayed like this for a while before she moved in for a kiss. Their lips pressed against each other, both of their hands searching for a spot on each other's bodies.
It burns inside her. She needs him now.
With all the strength left in her body, [Name] pushed him and herself backwards. A light thud reverberated through the room as his back hit the wall. The tip of her tongue pressed against his lips, waiting for P to understand what was happening, or for a moment where he would open his mouth just slightly for her tongue to slip in. It wasn't a surprise to her that the second option became the true one. Without hesitation, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his as if she wanted them to dance. Unknown sounds, sounds she had never heard from him, left his mouth. The tongue kiss was a strange thing for him, but it felt so good. He began to mimic her actions, his tongue swirling around hers in a dance, playing with it.
They both stayed like this for a while until she pulled away. Thin strings of salvia hung from both of their lips, the young woman was breathing heavily, and from the way he was looking at her, she knew that he would probably be doing the same if he had to breathe at all. Her eyes swept over his body before she grabbed his coat. Helping him pull it off. "Come on, love. Let's take this to the bed," she whispered into his ear as she took his hand. [Name] pulled him close enough to her bed before giving him a little nudge. He felt backwards into the soft mattress, blue orbs still focused on her. If he had the ability to blush, he would look like a ripe, sweet cherry.
P watched as her hands moved over her body, slowly tugging at each piece of cloth that covered her skin. The puppet's eyes grew wider and wider as one piece after another fell off, until she was left with nothing but her natural beauty. "Do you like what you see, my love?" she asked him with a cheeky smile, slowly moving closer and kneeling on the bed right next to his two legs. [Name] sat down where his crotch would normally be and rubbed her lower half gently against him. She knew that P wasn't made like a normal human, that certain human parts didn't exist for him because they weren't considered necessary. But she didn't care, they would have their 'fun' in a different way.
The young woman leaned forward, her bare breasts pressing lightly against his chest. A few strands of his auburn hair found their way between her fingers. She played with them for a few seconds before planting a soft kiss on them. "You are so beautiful P, like a dream in the shape of a person, like a light that keeps you safe in the dark. You are simply amazing, my love". Her attention returned to his face, watching his reaction. Puzzled and enchanted, something she could read in his bright blue eyes. [Name] moved her face closer to his once more, kissing his lips before running her lips down the length of his throat and then stopping at his chest. Her fingers found their way under his shirt, carefully pushing it up to pull it off his body in one swift motion.
His chest was incredible. The skin looked so soft, so luminous and untouched. It felt like she was looking at one of those ancient paintings. A painting that summarised the word 'beauty'. The tip of her fingers rubbed circles into his skin, nudging him just slightly to see his reaction, and to her surprise, he did react. Soft, short gasps left his lips and his back arched slightly the more she touched him. It was beautiful, attractive and erotic, something that made the sensation between her legs burn even more. [Name]'s hands found their way into his trousers, pulling them down by the waistband. Now the puppet lay beneath her in his own naked glory.
Even without any significant human parts, without a cock between his legs, he still drove her crazy. A short moan escaped her lips, a blush covered her face. She couldn't hold back any longer. "P, my love, look at me. Look what you are doing to me." The young woman pressed her knees deeper into the mattress, moving her hips back and forth, rubbing her wetness against his body. The slight bulge beneath her, probably there to express a certain masculinity in the puppet form, felt so good against her needy clit. Her hands gripped his hips, using them to pull herself further into his frame. And he, he watched her satisfy her needs with his body while she made sure to give him a good time in return by letting him watch her. His eyes shone a strong blue, words wanted to leave his usually quiet throat, but they couldn't. The sight took his breath away.
"P… P!" she had moaned over and over again. His name fell from her lips as if it was all that was left in her mind. He watched as her pussy rubbed more and more against his artificial skin, leaving a wet trail that seemed to glisten slightly on his skin. Her two breasts bounced with every movement of her body, revealing what he thought was perfect roundness. The puppet loved to watch her show for him, he could feel a certain sensation running through his springs as he watched her. He was sure that if he were more human he would have felt the same thing, he would have felt aroused.
As he watched her continue to fuck herself with his body, a certain desire began to grow within him. He wanted to be more involved in this act. To be a part of her pleasure, away from the spectatorship and the enjoyment of the show. P placed one of his hands on her lower body, stopping her movement. He could see an unpleasant look behind her eyes. It must have been a bad moment for her pleasure, but he had to do it. With his other hand, he carefully pushed her off his body, allowing her body to fall beside him. [Name] wanted to raise her voice but was stopped by the feeling of cold metal touching her clit, rubbing it lightly with one finger while the other fingers found their way into her wet cave. "P! Ahhh… there. Yes, right there!".
His action came as a surprise. But not as much as the fact that he knew almost immediately where to place his fingers. P's movements with his fingers are gentle, exploring her pussy cautiously before having a slight idea of what to do. Fingertips rubbed over the tiny bundle of nerves, the same way his skin did when she rubbed against him. His other fingers entered her needy hole, stroking her inner walls in a circle of entry and exit. The puppet seemed to have grasped the concept of finger fucking far too quickly.
She moaned louder and louder, almost as if she were singing to him. His name echoed through the room. Again and again. His movements grew faster and stronger. The springs inside his body almost exploded at the sight of his lover. She was in total bliss. His lips pleased his lover with wet tongue kisses which followed the same rhythm as his fingers. The puppet desired all of this, and he wants it again and again.
After a while, [Name]'s nails began to crawl into his back, her body trembling and her moans becoming stuttering. With a final whisper of his name, she climaxed. Covering his metallic fingers with her juice. Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again to see her lover curiously holding his juice-covered fingers in front of his eyes. A small smile on his face. Making him look like he appreciated what he had done. To make him focus on her, [Name] pulled his hand slightly away from his gaze. Without hesitation, she placed his fingers in her mouth and licked off her own juices, knowing by the look on his face that his springs were responding again.
"My love… you are so good to me. But I am sure. We could do even more, P."
#lies of p#lies of p x reader#p x reader#oneshot#smut#you requested and i served#i hope you guys liked it#i... certainly did#*coughs*
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A WARRIOR’S VOYAGE
"With the sins of the sun and the sadness in the sky, you shall wonder why the universe never loved you back."
— In a world overrun by the corrupt and mad, driven by lust, greed, egoism, desire and obsessionalism, having a sweet and innocent nature always ends with death. Being honorable and having a strong moral compass is viewed as something ethereal one can only dream of.
That being said, her chances were slim. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.
It was winning or dying.
And Fiyona Mormont was not ready to die.
SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE…
HOUSE MORMONT of Bear Island is a vassal House which holds fealty to House Stark of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North. They had always been a small House – it was no secret. But somehow, that alone just made them even prouder.
It didn't matter how many overlooked the island's inhabitants and failed to see the whole picture. For even if most didn't fully realize it, House Mormont was fearsome enemies but also excellent allies. Even if they indeed are a very small house.
Their ancestral home of Bear Island is an island far to the northwest of Winterfell, its location and densely forested areas with a large bear population the main reasons to why it's the home to mostly woodsmen, crofters and fisherfolk. Despite that, Bear Island was one of the places within the Seven Kingdoms known for their skilled warriors. Known for how impeccable they were at sword fighting.
Not only that, but Bear Island was also one of the few subcultures within Westeros with an tradition of female fighters. You see, over the age of time, there had always been dangers of imminent attack from ironborn raiding ships while the men were out at sea which eventually led to the women of Bear Island being expected to defend their homes from attacks. Sometimes it even was attacks from wildings who avoided the wall completely by using boats to cross the bay from the Frozen Shore.
Thus people who hail from Bear Island are mostly strong, hardy, loyal and deep down compassionate and kindhearted. When they know what needs to be done, they don't hesitate to take action.
Fiyona Mormont was no exception. The young she-bear was taught to be a warrior from an early age, and she had always known the true horrors of the world, known about the monsters hiding in the shadows since the early stages of her youth.
Fiyona was no stranger to death either, for she had watched the life leave disappear from the animals which she hunted, even watched the life slip away from her father's eyes. It was horrible, but she knew it was a part of the harsh world she lived in.
Nothing could ever change it. It was the way it was, the way it always had been and always would remain.
What Fiyona was a stranger to, however, was love. Not the kind of love you receive from your mother, a sibling or a dear friend. No, Fiyona was a stranger to the kind of ethereal love which exists between two souls. Between two hearts which ignites in such a heated flame whenever they're near one another.
Not even in her life as Mia Nordin had she ever experienced it... not that she remembered that life...yet.
As the Seven Kingdoms seemed to hold its breath while preparing itself for yet another war, completely amid the world where greed and power reign supreme, Fiyona's life collides with a another's...under arranged circumstances.
Thus began the story of Fiyona Mormont and Robb Stark. Two young humans who would change the course of the game itself.
The future Warden of the North and the former heiress of Bear Island.
The Young Wolf and the She-Wolf.
The King and Queen in the North.
As brave as the dusk & as fierce as the storm.
Fiyona Mormont's tale is filled with broken pieces, terrible choices, betrayals and ugly truths. In spite of those parts indeed being heavy and literally true, they are nevertheless misleading. For the tale is also filled with happiness, heroism, love, humanity, kindness and peace in her soul.
It's an entangled tale in which a black bear is forced to run with the wolves only discover she was one of them all along.
A tale of the wild wolves and the black bear.
Interested to read more? Then check out the story A Warrior’s Voyage on my wattpad profile melxhunter!!
#robb stark#robb stark x reader#game of thrones#a song of ice and feels#arya stark#sansa stark#jon snow#i stand by daenerys#tyrion lannister#winterfell#lyanna mormont#theon greyjoy#cersei lannister#ned stark#catelyn stark#mother of dragons#the young wolf#robb stark imagine#robb stark fanfic#the red wedding#house stark#asoiaf#got imagine#got#got fanart#grrm#asoiaf fandom#bran stark#rickon stark#robbstarkedit
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Two mates meet at last- Aro x femme! reader
Warnings : descriptions of blood , insane amounts of lust , and of course copious amounts of smut.
soundtrack: Closer by NIN , Bloodletting by Concrete Blonde , Black no.1 by Type O Negative , and Vampyre Girl by The Awakening
It was another cool night in Volterra, another night of hunting down your frantic prey . As you descended down the street you found yourself bump into something hard and cold , eventually you gather your senses and find out it was a tall , lean , and devilishly handsome fellow vampire. You apologize softly and back up about to go foward, but the handsome stranger takes your hand and presses his cold lips to your knuckles; This action resulting in a slight blush ( or whatever a vampire can do to blush ). The strange begins speaking and introduces himself , “ Hello cara mia i don’t believe we’ve met , my name is Aro , what is yours my dear?” he said oh so softly . You respond softly and quickly “ My name is y/n what a pleasure it is to meet you , and again i apologize for bumping into you i’m hunting down some prey “ He chuckles softly at your response and replies “ y/n such a lovely name and yes i gathered that , but unfortunately i do believe your prey is long gone now , why don’t you join me for dinner?” . You thought for a second and realized how grand of an opportunity this could be , so after a minute of pondering you graciously accepted his request . Aro took your arm in his swiftly and walked you to the center of Volterra, as you started approaching a ginormous building , you suddenly realized who you’re going to be dining with ; The shock overtook your body and you almost fainted, luckily the king caught you just in time , teasing you slightly of course “ Oh my dear for a vampire you are quite uncoordinated “ . You laughed softly and replied “ unfortunately that’s been a permanent trait since birth “ . The tall vampire helped you to your knees and guided you towards the cathedral like doors ; Two guards stood a front and examined you closely, once they realized you were here with Aro they let you through . As you entered arm in and , you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a dream ; I mean seriously how were you of all people here right now , dining with the king of the volturi himself ? The idea completely perplexed you, but oddly the reality felt so right and comfortable, it’s as though this was meant to happen. After minutes of wandering through the grand halls of the palace , you arrive in a stunning dining room , decorated with the most expensive furniture and divine tapestries. All of sudden Aro appears behind you , grabbing your waist firmly and whispering into your ear “ Are you pleased my dear?” you nod slowly in
response leaning into his grasp. Aro releases you from his grasp and pulls out a chair for you and beckons you to sit , you do so slowly and eye him as you seat yourself . He then pushes your chair in softly and speeds to the other end of the table , seating himself across from you ever so elegantly. All of a sudden , a group of servers enter the room with an array of cups and blood , your eyes glimmer with wonder at the sight and Aro’s eyes glimmer with love , from the sight of you. The servers bring you a large chalice and pour the red beauty into it cautiously , being sure not to spill any on you or Aro ; Eventually the “ritual “ is finished and the servers exit quietly , leaving you and Aro to bask in each other’s presence. Aro motions you to take the first sip and you hesitate, but realize you should never reject a king , and so you oblige . You pick up the chalice and slowly drink from it , the blood softly flowing down , staining your neck and chest. Aro looks at you with adornment and hunger , you then offer him the chalice and he takes his sip ; You watch his lips closely , a burning desire growing within you with each second. Eventually he sets down the chalice and stands up briskly ,speeding over to your side . Aro takes your hand , lifts you up , and wraps his strong arms around you waist tightly as he looks down at you with deep love and desire. You lean into him , taking notice of his “growing “ desire , and press yourself even closer than before ; He groans in response and kisses you harshly stealing whatever type of air from your retired lungs you may have . Your hands travel to his thick and dark hair , grabbing it softly and kissing him passionately at the same time, he takes notice of your hand movements and mimics only rougher. Aro sweeps you off your feet and places you onto the elaborate table , laying you down slowly he travels in between your thighs , and eventually finds the spot containing all your desire . You moan out as he slowly teases you , making sure to get you riled up ; Eventually his movements fasten and you reach your peak, you calm down and guide your hands up and down his chest , beckoning him to get even closer to you . Aro obliges immediately and slowly strips himself , as you do as well; He watches with dark eager eyes and hungrily grabs at your now bare waist . You spread your legs slowly and his jaw almost drops in awe at the sight of your goddess like body , in just a second he has positioned himself at your entrance and in just a second you give him your consent and allow him in . The size of him and the aching stretch made you gasp , this was far more painful than when you turned , but oh so pleasant; Meanwhile , as he was wrecking your body you were wrecking his hair , grabbing at it tightly and mangling it incredibly. After hours of ruining each other you both started into each other’s dark red eyes , both of which had now gone soft with calm and fulfillment; You were each other’s mates this was true and you could never have felt more complete , than in that very moment.
Hope you enjoyed xx!
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𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖉𝖊
(When Worlds Collide)
Pt 1
Supernatural/The Lost Boys Crossover
FemHunter!OC x Poly! Lost Boys
TW: Some language, mentions of killing/death
WARNING!!! This fic is almost 10,000 words long so I split it into 2 parts which will be posted at the same time.
Word count: About 5k
I never really wanted this to be my life. If I had been given a choice, I would have chosen a normal, apple pie life. Unfortunately for me, that was never an option. Being the daughter of John Winchester, I was never going to be anything but a hunter. I was born and raised in the life, it’s all I have ever known. My older brothers, Dean and Sam, were raised in the life too, though Dean had four years and Sam had six months of a normal life before everything went sideways. Their mom Mary died and while Sam was too young to remember it, too young to even remember her, Dean was old enough to have lasting mental scars from it. From that night on, their lives were never the same. Moving around from place to place, staying in less than desirable motel rooms, John searched for the thing that killed Mary, learning all about the things that went bump in the night and ganking those sons of bitches along the way. Dean and Sam always being brought along for the ride, though John would leave them in the motel room while he was out working the job. As Dean got older, he started helping his dad out on jobs, Sam still being too young to be told about what was really out there for a time, but eventually, he too started to help out.
It was on one of these jobs that John met and had a bit of a thing with my mom, resulting in her getting pregnant with me. Surprisingly, John actually stuck around, leaving every now and then to go work jobs. Though my mom wasn’t a hunter herself, she knew about them and what they hunted, so she was more than okay with John’s suggestion in raising me in the lifestyle. Everything was fine for about four years, but then my mom died in a car accident. John took me, Sam and Dean and left, not wanting to stick around the place where the second woman he loved died. After Mary, he never thought that he could love again but then he met my mom and he thought that maybe, just maybe he was catching a break for the first time in a long time, but then she also died. So, continuing on the search for the yellow-eyed demon and killing whatever came their way, the Winchesters traveled the country.
This all brings us to now. All of us grown up, me being nineteen, dad has since died, Mary came back to life but then died again, my brothers and I have also died and come back, though they have died a lot more than me, friends have died and even Bobby died. We haven’t exactly had a very good run of luck. Like today. “Hey you guys want anything? I’m going on a supply run.” I asked my brothers who were both sitting at the table, books and laptops laid out on the table as they did research for the current case. “Pie.” Was all Dean said, not even looking up from his laptop. “Of course, pie. How about some cake instead?” I asked with a grin, teasing my brother. Dean shot his head up and gave me a glare. “I- Cake isn't- I swear Mia, if you get me cake instead of pie I-” I cut Dean off with a laugh. “Calm down, Dean. Don’t burst a blood vessel.” I told him, causing him to shake his head and look back to his screen. Sam all the while chuckling to himself in the background. “Besides, when have I ever forgotten the pie? That’s Sam's job.” I teased. Sam gave me his bitchface and opened his mouth to defend himself, but quickly shut it, knowing that I was right. “You want anything Sammy?” I asked him as I started walking to the steps that led out of the bunker. “Uhh, yeah. Just some more bananas. Thanks.” I rolled my eyes at Sam and nodded my head, quietly snorting when I heard Dean call him a rabbit. Leaving the bunker and making my way to the store, I started getting this really weird feeling. I didn’t know what it meant, but what I did know, was that as a hunter, you trusted your instincts and any weird feelings that you got. So I made sure that I was on alert and ready for whatever.
I got to the store, got the supplies and was making my way back to the car when I felt someone behind me. I turned around to face whoever or whatever it was and was suddenly in a warehouse. Standing in front of me, were three feathered dicks. “Oh great. What does the godsquad want now?” I asked, annoyed. The three angels just looked at me, then at each other then back at me before advancing towards me. Before I could do anything, I was grabbed from behind by a fourth one. “Look, if you guys wanna get a little frisky, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not really into this whole four on one thing.” I said, forcing a laugh and a grin. The one that looked to be in charge walked up to me until they were standing right in front of me and smirked. “Let’s see how funny you find this.” He said to me as he brought his hand up to touch his fingers to my forehead. Suddenly, everything went black.
When I woke up, it was still light out. I looked around, noticing that I was on the ground and also noticing that I definitely wasn’t in that warehouse anymore. “What the hell?” I said out loud and I groaned and rubbed my head. I have no idea where the hell I was. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket to call Dean, but I didn’t have any service. I looked at my phone confused for a moment before putting it back into my pocket. I felt around and was relieved to find that my gun was still there. Letting out a sigh of relief I stood up. “At least I still have my gun.” I said quietly to myself. All I had with me were the clothes on my back and whatever I had in my pockets, which wasn’t much. Just my wallet, phone, keys and gun. Better than nothing I guess. I started walking to, who knows where. I just knew that I needed to get to a phone so I could let Sam and Dean know what was going on. It took hours of walking, but I finally got to a store. Walking in, I went straight over to the counter to ask the clerk if they had a phone I could borrow. He told me that the phone wasn’t for customers, which annoyed the hell outta me. As I turned to leave I noticed the newspaper on the counter. Confused, I picked it up and took a closer look. July 12 1983. “1983? Oh crap.” The realization dawning on me. Putting the paper back down, I left the store. Crap, crap, crap. Those feathered douches sent me back in time, no wonder my phone has no service. I walked down the sidewalk annoyed until it dawned on me that I have no way of contacting my brothers. They’re not going to know what happened to me. I would pray to Cas, but even if he did hear me and show up, it wouldn’t be the same Cas that I know. “Dammit!” I quietly cursed under my breath. Checking my wallet and seeing that I had some cash, I decided it would be best to find a cheap motel and come up with some sort of game plan.
Over the weeks then months, I did everything that I could think of to try and get in contact with my brothers and Cas and even getting desperate enough to pray to any angel that would listen. Nothing seemed to work though. I ran out of money pretty quickly and had to resort to swindling people at pool and eventually, running credit card scams. I guess it was lucky that I had my dad and brothers to teach me all this stuff because otherwise I would be screwed right now. At some point I had gotten a car and just decided to live out of that. I always kept moving, never really wanting to stay in one place for too long. I soon realized that there didn’t seem to be any monsters around, well, not that I could tell. Everything seemed almost too perfect. No monsters, no nothing. Even though there weren’t any signs of monsters, I still did my best to stock my trunk up with whatever weapons I could get my hands on. I wanted more than anything to get back to my brothers but as time went on, it being about a year since the angels sent me back here, I started to come to terms with this probably being my life now. While I was sad at the prospect of never seeing Dean, Sam, Cas and Jack again, I was also filled with a sense of hope. Hope that maybe, this was my chance to have that normal, apple pie life that I have always wanted.
It was now 1984 and I had made my way to a place called Santa Carla. It was weird, I had never heard of this place before. There were lots of things that were different about where/when I was compared to where I am from. It was almost like, not only had I been transported back in time, but also to a different reality or something like that. I mean, it would help to explain all these things, the lack of monsters for one. As I drove through town, I took a bit of a look around. I didn’t know what it was about this place, but I felt like I never wanted to leave. Making my way to the boardwalk parking lot, I parked my car, turned off the engine and let out a sigh. “I guess this is home for a while.” I said to myself. The car park was pretty crowded, which I guess was to be expected with it being the beginning of summer. I spent the first couple weeks just sticking to the boardwalk during the day. I started to hear rumors of this place being called “The murder capitol of the world”. This didn’t spook me too much though, I was a hunter after all. Well, I guess ex-hunter now. Tonight, I decided to check the boardwalk out and see what the night life was like. I walked around for a while just looking at things. Nothing too special happened that night and for the next few weeks, I kept going back to the boardwalk at night. I didn’t know why, but whenever I went there at night, I felt like I was searching for something but I didn’t know what it was. I had also started to feel like I was being watched. I tried to keep an eye out for whoever or whatever was watching me, but I could never find them. Well, that was until tonight. Four punk looking bikers were watching me. The second I laid eyes on them, I knew that there was something off about them but I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I wasn't scared of them though, it took a lot more than some rough looking bikers to scare me. As the night went on, it seemed like they were following me. I decided to test it and walked off of the boardwalk and onto the beach. I made my way to a secluded part of the beach and once I was sure that no one would be around to see or hear us, I stopped in my tracks and turned to face them.
“Why have you been following me?” I asked them, arms crossed and my eyes watching their every move. They sent me smirks and glanced at each other before looking back at me. “We saw you on the boardwalk one night and we wanted to get to know you.” The short one with a long and curly mullet said. “Yeah, we thought you looked cool, sugar.” The one with wild, blonde hair added. He looked like he belonged in a band with the way he dressed and styled his hair. “So that involved stalking me?” I questioned, my eyebrow raised in question. “Sorry about that. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” This time it was the tall, brunette that spoke up. He seemed genuine in what he was saying. I couldn’t explain why but I just felt as though I could trust them. It really didn’t make any sense, seeing as I didn’t even know them, but then again, nothing seemed to make much sense anymore. “So how about it, doll?” The Billy Idol looking one said. He seemed to be the leader of the group. I thought for a moment. I knew that Dean and Sam would kill me for making such a bad decision. “You guys going to tell me your names first?” I asked. Amused that they have yet to even introduce themselves. “I’m David, that’s Dwayne, Paul and that’s Marko.” David introduced himself and the others, pointing to each of them as he said their names. They all greeted me with a hello and or a wave. “I’m Mia. It’s nice to meet you boys.” From that night on, I had found myself stuck with four incredibly attractive punk biker friends. They stuck to me like glue. Well, at night they did. I never seemed to see them during the day and whenever I asked about it, they seemed to always come up with an excuse. It didn’t take me very long to figure out why. They were vampires. They never hung out with me during the day, they went off during the night when we were all hanging out, people were going missing like crazy and the way they looked at people was akin to how a predator would watch its prey. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Dean and Sam would kill me if they knew that I didn’t gank them on the spot when I figured it out. And to make matters worse, I had started dating them. I knew that it was wrong. I knew that I should have taken them down and saved the people of Santa Carla, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Just the thought made me sick and made me feel like if I did gank them, I would be making the worst mistake of my life. It was like I had some sort of unexplainable bond with them.
The boys and I mostly hang out at the boardwalk but we will sometimes go back to the cave and hangout there. When they took me to the cave for the first time, I was honestly pretty shocked. I heard the word cave and thought that it would look like a, well, like a cave. But this was completely different. While yes, it was still a cave, it was filled with so much stuff and actually looked pretty homey. David had told me about the hotel that used to be there and how it was built on a fault, causing it to fall when there was a big earthquake. It was honestly really nice having people to be around again. I didn’t realize just how lonely and isolated I had become over the past year. Being with David, Dwayne, Paul and Marko made me feel more at ease and happier than I have been in a very long time. This was the first time since I got zapped here, that I have truly felt content about my situation. I know I shouldn’t be feeling so comfortable and trusting with vampires, but I knew that they would never hurt me. I trusted them with my life. I stayed in the cave with them a couple times a week, but for the most part, I still slept in my car. I didn’t want to tell the boys about this because that could lead to more questions and those would be questions I would either not have answers for, or I just wouldn’t want to answer. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to try and explain to them that, not only am I a hunter, but I am also from the future and another reality. To be fair, they all had a pretty big secret that they still haven’t told me. Them being vampires. I decided to just not bring it up to them and let them tell me in their own time. Maybe that would give me the push that I needed to tell them about my own secret. Right now I was sleeping in my car. I was woken up by a knocking on my window. I shot up, gun at the ready, aimed at whoever was at my window. I lowered my gun as soon as I saw my boyfriend's face. Dwayne. I opened the door, got out and tucked my gun away. “Crap. I’m sorry Dwayne.” I told him as I closed the door. “It’s okay princess, but why do you have a gun?” He asked me, worry laced in his deep voice. I shrugged at him. “Protection.” I told him simply. Technically not lying. Dwayne nodded in understanding, though I could see that he knew I wasn't telling the whole truth. Dwayne brushed a piece of hair away from my face as he took a couple steps forward, making me back myself up against the car. It wasn’t to be intimidating though. “Why are you sleeping in your car?” He asked, his hand coming down and resting on my hip. I looked up at Dwayne. Knowing that this could make him ask even more questions, the kind of questions that I was worried about, I answered him. “I've been living in my car?” I told him but it sounded more like a question.
Dwayne stood there, his face one of shock. “You should have told us sooner.” He said, scolding me slightly but only out of worry for me. I tried to tell him that it’s fine but he didn’t want to hear it. He then asked me how long I have been living in my car for and when I told him that it’s been about a year, he all but forced me to move into the cave with him and the others. I rolled my eyes but didn’t put up too much of a fight. I didn’t mind the cave and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't looking forward to some better nights sleep. When Dwayne brought me back to the cave that night and told the others about where I had been sleeping the past year and how I would be moving in with them, they weren’t mad per say, but they, like Dwayne, weren’t too happy to hear about it. They just wanted me to be safe and wished that I had told them sooner. Though, they were very happy that I would be living with them now. It didn’t take them long to put together a room for me. They wanted to give me a space that could be mine and make me feel like this was my home because, well, it was my home now. For the next two months everything went fine. The boys and I did what we normally did. We went to the boardwalk, went on rides, played the games on the boardwalk and we all hung out at the cave. Today I had been working on my car. My car was parked up top where their bikes normally were. I was lucky that I had Dean to teach me everything he knew about cars. It had gotten dark while I was working, so I took out the flashlight that I had and just continued. I heard the sound of gravel crunching and knew that, that meant that Dwayne was awake and had come out to help me. He would often come out and help me while I worked on my car, just as long as it was after dark. It was really nice to do something together, just the two of us. “You need some help, princess?” Dwayne asked. He crouched down beside the car and waited for my answer. “No, I’m almost done. Thank you anyway, Dwayne.” I called out from underneath the car. Dwayne being Dwayne, he decided to help me anyway. He grabbed the other torch that was in my toolbox, slid himself underneath the car with me and held the light up so I could see better. I looked at him and he just gave me a satisfied grin.
I had always dreamed of having that normal, apple pie life but with the boys being vampires, I knew that wouldn’t exactly happen. It didn’t seem to matter though. I was probably the happiest that I had ever been. Not to say that I wasn't happy with my brothers, I was, but this was just different. I was in love. In love with four amazing guys that, I had come to realize, would do anything for me. As I would for them. They made me so incredibly happy and made me feel so safe and loved. I had finally fully accepted that I would be here forever, no way back to my brothers or my old life, and I was okay with that now. I had Dwayne, David, Paul and Marko. Speaking of Paul and Marko, I loved how wild and crazy they were. They were always stirring shit up wherever they went, usually pulling me into their chaos. I was always up for some chaos though. I mean, my life before all of this was pure chaos, but not exactly in the fun way. More in the, fighting for my life, kind of way. With Paul and Marko, it was always fun. After I had finished with my car, Dwayne helped me pack my tools away. I put the toolbox in the backseat of my car and walked over to the stairs, Dwayne right behind me. I spent the rest of the night hanging out with the boys at the boardwalk. Paul and Marko were all over me all night. They never left my side for a moment. I was standing with all of them around the bikes, I had Paul behind me, his arms around my waist and Marko was in front of me, also holding onto me. They were the two of the group that were the most comfortable with all types of PDA. David and Dwayne did show some forms of PDA but that was mostly a kiss here and there, holding my hand and a hug. Paul and Marko however, had zero shame. I was trying to talk to David but I could barely concentrate. Paul had his face in my neck, kissing it. “You okay there, doll?” David asked with a smirk, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m fine.” I told him with a stifled giggle. I could feel Paul laugh into my neck. “I think she’s ticklish.” Marko said with a chuckle. I could see the look in his eyes and it said that he was about to mess with me. “Don’t you dare, Marko.” I told him, jokingly. “Alright boys, leave her alone.” David told them, trying to save me from their terror. When it was time for all of us to leave, David pulled me over in his direction, wanting me to ride with him. I happily agreed, hopping on the back of his bike, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head against his back.
The next night, I was laying on my bed in my room. The boys told me that they had to go out and to “deal with some stuff” and that they would be back soon. I knew what that meant, even if they didn’t know that I knew. They were going to feed. I just told them to be safe. I spent that time listening to music and cleaning my guns. The boys obviously knew that I had guns and they actually thought that it was pretty cool. I even took them out shooting a few times, which was a good and a bad idea. While David already had experience and Dwayne was a very quick learner, Marko and Paul went a bit crazy, but luckily nobody got hurt. I didn’t know it, but the boys had gotten back and were currently going through the trunk of my car. They had snagged my keys earlier without me knowing. David was the one that had this nagging feeling that there was something that I was hiding from them. So naturally, he decided that rummaging around in the trunk of my car for, he didn’t even know, was the best idea. The boys didn’t know exactly what they were going to find, but it definitely wasn’t the haul of weapons, holy water, silver etc. in the secret compartment. Their hearts sank. Their mate was a hunter and their mate was possibly going to kill them when they found out what they were. Or worse, they thought. You already knew and you were just trying to get close to them so you could make the kill. Why you kept this charade up for so long, they didn’t know. But either way, they knew that they needed to confront you about all of this. So that’s exactly what they did. After they put everything back in its place and closed the trunk, they made their way back inside the cave and to my room.
I was now laying on my bed, a book in my hands, when they entered. I looked up at them and smiled. However, my smile faded when I saw the serious, sad and almost heartbroken expressions on all of their faces. I promptly put my book to the side and sat up. “Boys? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I asked them worriedly. I was worried that something had happened while they were out. Maybe one of them got hurt, but I couldn’t see any injuries. David was the first to speak up. “Is there something that you need to tell us?” He asked, his voice stern and laced with malice. I gave them a confused look. “What are you talking about?” I asked David. I didn’t have any idea what this was about. “Cut the shit, Mia. We know you’re a hunter. We saw what’s in your trunk.” He said. My heart dropped at his words. Oh crap, they know. I knew that I was going to have this conversation with them at some point, but I never wanted it to happen like this. I let out a sigh and ran a hand down my face. I guess it’s happening now. “Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you boys about this earlier, but it’s not exactly an easy thing to explain.” I told them. “Just tell us!” Paul demanded. He looked so hurt, they all did. Though David masked his hurt with anger. “Yes, I’m a hunter. I know what you boys are. I’ve known basically the whole time but I have no intention of hurting you. I could never hurt you.” I told them, practically pleading for them to believe me. “Then what the hell is all that shit in your trunk?” David asked angrily, his voice raised. I was now standing in front of them. “What I have to tell you is probably going to be difficult for you to believe, but I swear it’s the truth.” I told them. “Try us.” Dwayne spoke up, his arms crossed and face stern. “I was born and raised in the hunter lifestyle, it’s all I’ve ever known. My brothers, Dean and Sam, are hunters too but they aren’t here. They’re back home. I’m not from this reality or time. I’m from a different version of this reality and the year there is 2018. There are more than just vampires in my world and my brothers and I, along with other hunters, we hunt them. I was just out on a supply run when I was ambushed by some feathered douchebag angels and zapped here.” They all stayed silent as I explained everything to them, taking in all the information. When I was finished, Marko was the first one to speak up. “So, if you knew about us this whole time, had all of that stuff in your trunk and are a hunter…. Why haven’t you killed us yet?” He asked me. I gave him a small smile. “Because I love you. I love all of you.” I told them. I told them that from the moment I met them, I have felt a pull to them. A bond. Like there was an invisible thread that tethered me to them.
They exchanged glances with each other before looking back at me. Almost as if they were having a silent discussion with each other. That’s when they decided to explain to me that I was their mate. That, that’s the reason I was feeling that way and that’s why I was so drawn to them. I have heard of this kind of thing before. The vamps in my universe mate for life, so I assumed that this was the same kind of thing. I wasn't freaked out at all by this information. The exact opposite actually. I was happy hearing that we were all meant to be together. After the air had been cleared and all the skeletons were out of the closet, we all made up from our little misunderstanding. By the end of the night, we were all laid in my bed. Our bodies so tangled together that I didn’t know which limb belonged to who. I was glad that they had believed what I had told them and had forgiven me for keeping it from them for so long. They were also very happy that I was okay with them being vampires. They had lots of questions for me about my world/time and about all the different monsters, to which I happily answered as much as I possibly could. “Wait. So the vampires from your world, their faces don’t morph and ALL of their teeth grow long and sharp?” Paul questioned. “Yep.”
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#dwayne tlb#marko tlb#paul tlb#david tlb#the lost boys 1987#tlb 1987#the lost boys#the lost boys dwayne#the lost boys david#the lost boys paul#the lost boys marko#alex winter#brooke mccarter#billy wirth#kiefer sutherland#supernatural#supernatural dean#supernatural sam#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#PWIBfic
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𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑨 𝑮𝑰𝑭 𝑰𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑺.
clicking the source link will take you to a total of #53 gif icons of desire mia. all gifs were made from scratch, so please do not claim them as your own or repost anywhere. if you’d like to edit them in any way, please ask for permission first. likes & reblogs are much appreciated if you use these !
#desire mia gif icons#desire mia gif hunt#rpt#rph#gif icons#userfyp#gi#this is a tiny pack but i'll likely make some more for him in the future
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The Gladiators Prize
@bugmanor
Warning:Smut,Water sex,swearing,Felix being a sexy and clingy Beast,Poor little reader never stood a chance.
Request: NSFW Felix x Innocent/Shy S/o.
An:I am so so so sorry this is so late,I hope this is ok! It's been a while since I've written smut but i am kind of happy with how this came out.
Gladiators had always been my favorite thing to study in history class,they were usually more beast than man.The stories always ended two ways but always with death,Either the lion or the man were leaving that arena alive.
Most of the time it was the lion.
But i never thought I'd actually get the chance to meet one in real life,That was until i found out that my entire college history class was going to the city of Volterra to visit some of the many wonders it had to offer. I was absolutely stoked,i was living by myself and had been wanting to move there my whole life,I was even saving up and nearly had enough.Might as well see what it had in store for me.
The plane ride over was exhausting but i was so glad when our bus finally arrived,Mrs.Gillard whistled to get everyones attention."Alright everyone,our hotel rooms aren't ready yet so why don't you all check out the shops while we wait." There was a wave of relief filled sighs throughout the group causing her to roll her eyes.She was always such a mean woman. I wondered around next to a few shops before deciding to lean against the wall of an alley,pulling out my favorite book about gladiators and blocking out the ouside world.
"Hello there gorgeous,what is someone as stunning as you doing here all alone?" I heard a deep voice ask,Looking up my face heated up immediately as i saw the devilishly handsome man infront of me.He was like a giant compared to me,but he seemed a bit starstruck as well as our eyes met.
"I-I uh.." It was as if my brain had completely shut down,he didn't seem to mind though since he chuckled."Didn't mean to surprise you cara mia,I simply saw a living goddess and wished to introduce myself." He reached over and gently took my hand in his before bending down and making a show of keeping eyecontact as he kissed my knuckles."You smell absolutely heavenly my dear,and what might your name be?" He said in a gruff sultry voice causing my knees to grow weak. "My n-Name is (Y/n)" i said like the utter mess that i was. He smirked down at me and stepped closer,i dropped my book and tried to move back but i was already against the wall.He listed his arms and successfully trapped me between his hulking body and the brick,The cape he wore blocked me from view from the wondering people that walked around outside.
"Such a lovely name..(Y/n).." My name rolled off his tongue like it was his lifes mission to make me faint from bliss. "My name is Felix Volturi Cara Mia,I suggest you remember it." I gulped,"And why is that..?" His eyes chuckled as what sounded like the mix between a growl and purring erupted from his throat."Because you will be screaming it soon enough."
This is it..This is how i die,i thought as he leaned his face closer,his eyes dark with lust."You are mine.." He purred.Something in me urged me to let go and live in the moment,But the sound of one of my classmates yelling my name broke me out of my trance. With a flustered face i quickly moved his cape and dove under his arm,not even attempting to look at him in fear that i might fully lose control.
He watched as i ran out of the valley and out of sight,bending down he picked up my book.He sniffed the book and purred at my scent,He chuckled when he saw the title of the book."Mmm we are destined my little flower,You can not hide from me."
Tossing and turning in bed i huffed before sitting up,I had been lucky enough to not have a roomate,but even that joy couldn't suppress the events of the day.I couldn't get felix out of my head,I had never had someone so attractive talk to me before,and especially not like that.Thinking back on it he looked a lot like the gladiators in my book,if i didn't know any better i would have assumed he was one.
Realizing i wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon i decided a nice bath in the tub that seemed more like a pool compared to mine back home would get rid of the heated fantasies that brought a blush to my (S/c) cheeks,Tredding my way into the gorgeous bathroom i undressed on my way there,not even bothering to pick them up on the way, before hopping into the nice steamy water.
I guess that's why i didn't hear the sound of the window opening.
Felix sniffed the air,causing him to lick his lips when he could still smell the traces of my lust,he thanked the gods when he saw my cute but sexy black panties laying onthe floor.Not even hesitating he picking them up and breathed in my scent,barely stopping the growl that threatened to escape.He stuffed them into his pocket before getting undressed,setting his clothes on a chair.There he leaned against the doorframe and watched as i played with myself,i forgot to shut the bathroom door.Since the tub was round i sat with my back to him,Not even realizing the danger i was in.
Sighing in pleasure i added another finger to my tight pussy,"Ah..Mm...Felix..." I moaned. Biting my lip i leaned my head back against the edge of the bath."That's right,say my name again Cara mia." My eyes shot open and i saw Felix standing over me with a sly smirk. Gasping i quickly turned and sat on the other side ,Blushing furiously when i saw the state he was in. "Do not be frightened my love,I told you you are mine." He stepped into the tub until he was knelt between my thighs.
"H-How..How did you get in here..?" I asked,Shaking despite the warm water that engulfed me. He chuckled,"I have my ways,Now let us continue where we left off,Shall we?" Leaning in he captured my lips,he started off gently and waited as i froze with wide eyes.It only took a a few seconds before i melted in and began kissing him back.
From there the kiss got more and more heated,His strangely cold hands grazed at my fragile skin from my shoulders to my breasts,He swallowed my moans as he kneaded my breasts and piched my now perky nipples.My hands held on his braud shoulders for support,Knowing if i let go i would likely sink into the water. Pulling away he licked his lips hungrily as he saw my blazed out expression,"Look at you,So needy for your gladiator hm? Does the idea of such a strong man claiming you turn you on? You are my prize for all of my victories my dear,it is time to claim what is rightfully mine." He pushed his knee forward and smirked,obviously pleased as i began to rut against his thigh involuntarily."That's it,Give into the pleasure." He grinned when he pulled away his knee,eliciting a whine."Do not worry my dear,I will give you what you desire." Grabbing my thighs and wrapping them around his waste he wasted no time in guiding his large member into my aching core.
He hissed and clenched his eyes tight in ecstasy when he was fully sheathed in my warmth,"Fuck..You are so tight my goddess..Tell me..Am i the first man to taint your sacred flesh? Tell me! For i shall hunt down any who has dared to take what is mine." He growled while mercilessly pounding into me once i had gotten used to his size. "N-No..I..I was.." He grinned widely,his dark red eyes glowing as he drowned in the beautiful sound of my moans."You are mine! Do you hear me? No one will dare to even think about taking you from me once i am done with you! Tell me you are mine!I will treat you like a queen." He reached down and grabbed my chin,not to hurt me in the slightest but to force me to look deep into his eyes."I-I am yours! Please Felix..Ahn..hah.." Tears poured down my cheeks,wrapping my arms around his neck he nipped at my neck,causing me to wriggle.
Now that i had accepted him he was going to ensure that i would not be able to walk for the next month.Leaning back he pulled me with him so that i was now riding him,He opted to watch as i bounced on top,enjoying the sight of my breasts bouncing.
"Forget all about the life you have lived before my innocent little mate,i am never letting you go again." I was so blissed out that all i could do was nod,running my hands down his stunning abs.
"Fe-Felix..I'm so close..Please..!"He licked a a stripe up my throat,relishing in the shiver the visibly rolled up my skin."As am i cara mia,Come for me!" With a few more harsh thrusts i felt my body spasm in the most amazing pleasure i had ever felt before.I could hear his grunts as his hands tightened on my thighs,"Fuck...(Y/n)!" He hissed.
I kissed his forehead before burying my head in his shoulder,letting exhaustion take over."All mine." Was the last thing i heard before darkness consumed me.
When i finally awoke i was dressed in an unfamiliar bedroom with my back pressed against a cold chest,arms secured protectively around my waist."Go back to sleep my love,You are home now." Felix's deep comforting voice said against my shoulder causing me to smile."Hmm.." Was my only response as i buried myself deeper into him and drifted back to sleep.
My gladiator kept his word,He never let me go.
#volturi imagine#twilight imagine#felix volturi#felix volturi x reader#felix volturi imagines#felix volturi imagine#twilight
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—𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆;
pairing: john wick x f!reader x santino d’antonio
word count: 16k + 1-word
summary: And then stillness.
warnings: swearing, STRONG violence, angst.
notes: no long introduction this time. I’ve missed you all. Love you and I’m eternally grateful for your support and patience as always. Enjoy!
children of ares series: 01 | .... | 08 | 09 | . . | 11 |
gif credit (x)
“I have no intention of sitting around and waiting for them to attack again.”
Ares’ eyes slide from you to Santino who sits behind the extravagant breakfast table. He must have felt like eating out on the terrace despite the chilly temperature outside. The warmth of the sun is the only reason this frigid wind is bearable.
For a man who often complains about cold weather, he seems fine making exceptions whenever it suits him.
But there’s an edge about him today that’s impossible to miss.
He seems distant. Like something is preoccupying all of his thoughts, and you know that you are likely the cause of it.
Last night sits between you like a ravine and it’s unsettling.
You know what he must have felt seeing that ring. But it’s so hard to properly articulate what it means to you. John has always meant so much to you, and his present was the first you received after your parents’ murder. Certainly the first of such value. It has always mattered more than you could ever put into words. In truth, it’s always been about more than just your feelings for him.
Back when he first left, that ring had been the only thing you had left of him. You had no photographs, no voicemail messages, no notes, nothing. One day, John had been everything, and then he up and vanished like smoke.
You had clung to that ring like a tightrope for weeks. Your only emotional anchor as you tried to nurse your broken spirit back together.
Years later, it’s still important. Even if it now represents something different to you.
Santino says nothing in reply to your curt statement, lifting a glass of rich, red wine to his lips as his attention stays on the New York skyline. He doesn’t look angry; not in the way he often does, at least. That burning flame that rages on and on. This is something else. This is an eerie reminder of that night when he came to you after finding out he’s been made the Spare.
Seeing this stings more.
You woke up after sixteen hours of sleep to a silent penthouse that had set off every alarm bell ringing inside your head. By the time you tracked him down, Santino was already enjoying late breakfast—calm and collected as ever—and not at all like he’s been marked by the Dragon itself. Like he wasn’t currently hunted by the High Table’s henchmen and two psychopaths.
Normally, you might have written it off as arrogance. Since with him, it often is.
Santino is still Camorra. He’s grown up believing himself to be untouchable. But not entirely. Camorra has been its own cage too. A tight, suffocating cage. He’s told you as such. There has never been a choice, not for him. He was born into his role. Either you learn to make it work or—
Or.
There’s only one escape from a life like yours.
You shift in your seat, toying with your glass of juice absently.
Ares picked up on the tension between you almost immediately, and you hadn't missed her curious, pointed stares in your direction. For another few minutes, you sit in uncomfortable silence.
He invited you to join him as always. But you can’t help and wonder if—for the first time ever—he’s done so more out of politeness as opposed to a genuine desire for your company.
That thought stings more.
But you also know how much it hurt to see that ring.
“My men have searched the city,” he finally speaks, serious and smooth, and his light green eyes find your own. You exhale softly when your eyes connect, the weight of it an almost physical touch. Something shimmers deep in their depths; something that coils your stomach into knots as you fight to keep your expression straight. He simply gazes at you over his glass of wine, searching for something. “They haven’t found them, amore.”
He practically purrs the endearment and you break the eye contact between you.
“No offence to your men,” you remark promptly, feeling unsettled. “But they don’t know this city well. But I know individuals who do.”
“Hmm, you want to involve someone else now, is that it?”
You don’t like the tone of his voice. The bite of finely laced irritation woven into his low baritone. This is not like last night. What he had demanded then had been too much.
John—
Perhaps that’s exactly the problem. John, as always, stands between you. He always has, and in more ways than one.
“I may be proud,” you start, and there is something equally as tart in your own voice. “But not to a point of stupidity. If I need help, I don’t find it beneath me to ask for it.”
A jab. A fully intended and purposeful jab at his ceaseless pride. That damned D’Antonio pride he always fails to contain. Just like his father. You can’t help but wonder how he would take it—if you told him as such. If he would take the comparison as praise or an insult.
Santino doesn’t bite though. His expression remains cool, composed. He’s heard—has been called many times—far worse.
“Wise words, cara mia. Bravo.”
The air between you practically crackles.
Ares leans her chin against her palm, her eyes sliding back and forth between you with feline grace. She looks caught between amusement and exasperation.
He doesn’t say anything else and the gust of wind disturbs the table cloth, making the cups tremble in their saucers. His stare burns that vivid colour that hides everything and nothing and you exhale forcefully.
“Fine,” you declare tightly, rising to your feet. “Keep searching and I’ll be back by the evening. She’s too injured for them to run now, and from what I’ve heard it’s not their style either.”
No, the Lovers with their lovely faces and terrible fury are known for making a sport out of hunting their opponents. They are the type to obsess until the subject of that obsession is left in tatters. Usually—if the stories about them are to be believed—that’s all that’s left.
“Take Ares with you.”
Not an order but it’s a close thing.
You feel yourself bristle.
“I need to handle this alone,” you bite out when your eyes clash, and the heat between you is almost tangible even with the freezing nip of the wind. “This particular individual doesn’t like strangers.”
But Santino doesn’t drop it so easily.
“You were attacked yesterday. Injured.”
He blinks, but you don’t miss how his voice catches on the last word. How his composure cracks just so. It softens your heart a touch—just a bit—because you imagine what he would have felt, hearing that information. An ambush. Multiple dead. The destruction it wrought.
He was frenzied with worry yesterday. Perhaps the most undone you have seen him in a long, long while.
“And I’m fine,” you stress because you have to because he needs to hear it even if he doesn’t believe it yet. “The longer we delay, the more time we’re giving them to retaliate. To plan.”
You’re right and you know it, and he knows it too. Which is the only reason why his expression relaxes after another few beats of tense silence. Ares is still watching you both, silent but observant as always, though her eyes almost sparkle with a knowing light.
His gaze drops and he lowers his glass of wine back onto the table.
“Very well,” he murmurs and rises to his feet as well. “Let me walk you to the door, at least.”
You try, and fail, to mask your surprise. He’s not a servant. He’s the owner of this space. It’s considered an honour by Camorra’s standards. If anyone in the ruling family greets you at the door or sees to your departure. It marks one as an esteemed and valued guest.
Your eyes flicker towards Ares for a second but the other woman is already looking in your direction. You see her trying to smother a grin at your palpable surprise. She stretches in the sun and shoots you a wink as Santino passes you, lingering until you join his side.
You leave the chilly terrace together, trail downstairs, walking wordlessly all the while. Silence never fails to be jarring when it comes from him. You’re used to the lull of conversation that always flows between you, regardless of the severity of it. Which only leaves you to wonder—yet again—how much damage yesterday’s discovery might have caused.
A part of you is determined to wait for him to speak first because he always does, but this time it’s different. His gait is poised and self-assured, but his shoulders are curved in a stiffer line than usual. One that betrays him; his restlessness, his lingering anger.
Your resolve to wait lasts until you exit the apartment. But when he starts walking down the hallway towards the elevator, you realise that he has no intention of speaking with you at all.
“Santino?”
He pauses. Now only a few steps away from the elevator and turns to glance at you over his shoulder. You haven’t realised you stopped till the distance between you becomes apparent.
“I know what you must be thinking,” you whisper, even though your words sound strangled. You don’t know what he’s thinking, not really, but you can guess. “I wear that ring because it matters to me. I wear the only two presents I’ve ever accepted because they mean so much to me.”
They mean everything. Even if he doesn’t realise it.
You move towards him, one cautious step at the time. His own expression is hard, and his eyes examine you from beneath tightly knitted eyebrows. It’s like he wants to say something but refuses to do so, and you’re unsure if you’re eternally grateful for it or not.
“I don’t want this to—look, I don’t want this to affect us or weaken us in any way,” you tell him, trying to push your voice into firmness as you come to stand in front of him. Your voice, despite the softness of it, seems to screech through the hollowness of the empty hallway. “Especially now. You’re prone to stupid ideas when left angry and unattended.”
He takes a step closer too, and then another. His hands are in his pockets but somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better. His eyes track over your features, lingering on the bruises, and you want to reassure him again that you’re fine—you’ve had far worse, and he knows this—but your tongue refuses to work.
“You do not have to worry, amore, I shall attempt to contain the ‘stupid’ until your return,” he says, his words almost teasing, even though his quiet scrutiny doesn’t let up. His eyes suddenly flicker upwards to meet yours and a slight, arrogant grin twists the side of his mouth. “Besides I have no plans to die any time soon.”
It’s a relief to hear that haughtiness back in his voice.
“Good. Good,” you repeat again and feels stupid for doing so. He’s still staring at you and you search for something to say to stop him from looking at you like that. “They’re dangerous, and you know the Dragon has the numbers. It might be a good idea to stay somewhere else while I’m not around.”
Precautions. Always better than being unprepared. Winston’s wisdom.
He leans into you and something in your chest cramps at the closeness between you. At the hungry, simmering light in his eyes while he peers at you.
“I do not scare easily, amore.”
A loving caress made only lovelier by the depth of his accent.
You want to pull away, step away, walk away but—
You can’t. A small, traitorous part of you doesn’t want to.
“Don’t start with the ego trip, please,” you murmur instead, an attempt to deter him perhaps but…but his eyes only glaze over as if… “Just keep your eyes peeled for once. What?”
You can’t take it anymore. That look.
“It’s nothing.”
A slow blink and he pulls back. But you see how he works his jaw, how the muscles in his neck keep jumping, how his fingers flex. Like he’s trying to rope himself back, contain whatever it is he wants to say. Do.
“Don’t do that. Don’t deflect,” you insist, though a distant voice deep inside warns how you shouldn’t push him. It would be so much better—easier—to leave things as they are between you. Unsaid. Distant with a few sparks in between. But— “You know I hate it when you do that. Whatever it is that’s on your mind, just say it.”
You regret your words the moment you speak them.
Not only because they make you into a hypocrite but also because it’s dangerous to give Santino such an opportunity. He might say something that could—and would—change everything between you.
But he doesn’t.
He practically grimaces. His body coiling with tension, but he keeps quiet.
You’re not sure which you feel more acutely, then: disappointment or relief.
Forcing oxygen into your lungs, you move to step past him, but he reacts first. His hand flies out, slamming against the wall and cutting off your path towards the elevator.
You freeze, caught off guard.
He breathes deeply; a loud, rattling sort of sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
“You want to know what I’m thinking, hm? Is that it?”
His voice is wrecked. Syllables falling from his lips in a breathless litany as he leans towards you.
You can’t help it. A step forces you back and then another. It’s the first time you’ve ever yielded him any ground but his eyes spark and devour at the retreat, and you have no idea what he sees on your own face.
Maybe—
Maybe whatever he sees doesn’t make him retreat as it might have once. Instead, he draws even closer—closer to a point you’re a breath away and there is nowhere to run.
The hallway wall brushes against your back and his arm rests next to your head, still blocking your way.
His lips part and his eyes journey over your features slowly, intimately, in a way that boils the blood in your veins. “I’m thinking that I enjoy it far too much when you worry about me. I’m thinking that it’s unfair that you look so beautiful when you are angry with me. I’m thinking that I hate the fact that you are afraid but trying to hide it. I’m thinking, amore mio, that I hate that ring not because you wear it but because I believe you deserve so much better than him. You deserve everything.”
His head tilts and his hooded stare won’t let you escape now. Perhaps, after all this time, he’s been pushed too far. Has waited enough and longed enough.
Maybe some reckless part of you doesn’t want him to stop, either.
Maybe that part of you—wild and wicked and ruthless as he is—won’t mind if he reaches out and tries to claim what you know he’s desired for so long. What a part of you has desired, too—no matter how much effort you've put into trying to smother it, ignore it, kill it whole.
“And I am not ashamed to admit that it makes me jealous knowing you still care for him, even when I know I have no right to be,” he breathes, strained, his hot breath brushing over your parted lips and his words scrape against your bones. “But above all, hmm, above all else I’m thinking just how badly I want to kiss you right now.”
Your breath hitches and you know he feels it, hears it, because his own breathing is ragged. Like he’s trying—and failing—to keep his composure.
His free arm moves, and you feel his burning fingers on your hand. His eyes don’t drop away, your breaths mingling.
“But I won’t start with your lips. No, no,” he whispers, breathless with longing. His fingertips trail upwards slowly, touching and mapping your skin and another unsteady breath escapes you. “I would start with the palm of your hand, your arm…your shoulder.”
Santino leans closer, his nose brushing against the said shoulder, and even through the fabric of your clothes, his touch tingles, burns. The smell of his cologne fills your nose and the heat of him is even worse because his next words tickle the curve of your neck. “Oh, how I desire to feel your pulse against my lips, amore. It has almost driven me insane, imagining what you taste like all these years. I would explore every inch of your skin first, hmm, and only then would I kiss you.”
His lips brush against your jaw; a brief, fleeting contact that makes your hand snap out and grip his bicep. A battle between wanting to pull him closer and push him away. Your arm trembles. Santino watches you for a moment, your foreheads almost touching and whispers his next words to you like a secret. “Kiss you till those lips are tender and neither of us can breathe,” he mutters with a choked little laugh as his thumb ghosts over the curve of your lips. “I can’t breathe with you around, do you know that, hm?”
Your arm stills. Still holding on but only that.
His fingers curve against your face, tilting it towards him as he leans down.
Your mind is quiet as your eyes flutter closed, allowing yourself—for once—to simply feel.
Santino lingers, breathing you in. Perhaps savouring the moment; the anticipation of the feeling that’s about to sweep everything away, including the two of you.
He exhales suddenly—a pained, angry hiss—and it makes your eyes fly open. He presses his forehead against yours for a brief second before pulling back.
He looks angry. So angry. But not at you.
You don’t get to question him before he exhales through gritted teeth, “But not like this. Not like this.”
His fingers leave your face, slip from the wall, and he peers at you for a moment before he steps away. You wait for him to change his mind.
He doesn’t.
He looks so bitterly disappointed, but he pivots and walks back into the apartment without so much as a backwards glance.
The door slams shut and you flinch, coming back to reality.
Your heart is hammering in your chest so loudly you press your palm against your breastbone. Harder and harder, as if hoping to contain whatever is raging inside.
You stay slumped against the wall for another minute, composing yourself, and wonder when exactly your life became such a goddamn mess.
Green eyes, the heat of him, the scent, his touch grazing your skin—
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
A loud clap greets you first.
“As I breathe, the mighty Vipress,” the Bowery King exclaims, expanding his arms like he’s announcing you to his court. “Freedom suits you, sweetheart. My warmest congratulations to you on the rather unfortunate passing of our old friend Viggo. It was quite the little adventure to my understanding.”
A slight smirk lingers across your face, and you tilt your head in vague agreement.
The Bowery King grins, but there is nothing warm to be found in the gesture that’s all teeth and vicious sort of amusement.
The King hated Viggo as much as the rest of the city did. So you never expected him to be weepy over the unfortunate passing.
His wording does make you curious if he knows what really happened though. But you don’t dare to mention it now. Or the fact that your so-called freedom is not official. The High Table representatives are yet to contact you and the delay is making you uneasy.
“I admit, I am rather curious about what brings you here to my humble abode.”
Humble is not how you would describe the King’s living quarters. Humble was the tiny Moscow flat you shared with your parents. The Bowery King sits on a mountain of luxury and organisation that puts him at the very top of New York’s food chain. The silken robe he wears is just a statement, a testament, that while he might rule the bowery, there is nothing humble or poor about the man himself.
Giovanni and Tarasov may have been rotten to the core, but at least they didn’t call themselves champions of the people while sitting in their luxurious estates.
They, at least, had the nerve to admit exactly how rotten and malicious they were without flinching.
You’re not sure if the same can be said about the man in front of you.
“Your Majesty,” you greet flatly as you sit down in front of him. Earl stands beside you—a subtle warning—but knows better than to move any closer or touch you. Smart man. Your weapons have been removed upon entry but you hardly need them. “Freedom has been…exciting so far. So I think you know why I’m here.”
The King hums, long and loud, while he considers you. His head tilts from side to side; thoughtful, knowing.
“Perhaps I do,” he agrees mildly. “You don’t look so good though. A little Lovers spat from what my birdies told me.”
You almost roll your eyes.
Why are people in your life so damn theatrical?
Instead, you ask him a simple, “Where are they?”
The large man folds his hands on the expensive table separating you and chuckles. A deep, rumbling sound shakes his entire body as he looks at you with a biting smile.
“What makes you think I know?” he wonders, glancing towards Earl as if the man might shed some light on the matter. “After their little failed ambush, they ran. A wise decision. The Lovers though. Ooh, that’s gotta be bad for your health, dearest. They’re mean little suckers from what I’ve heard.”
Yes, they are. You’ve been digging for information from the moment you left Santino’s penthouse, calling in old favours and people based in Europe who may have more insider information on the two.
To defeat your enemy, you must know them.
The Lovers had the edge on you the last time you met.
They won’t get a second chance like that.
But all and any information you’ve gathered so far only confirms what you’ve only vaguely heard about in the past. They are more than dangerous, or cruel, they are obsessive. They hound and hound their prey till they get what they’re after.
Pissing them off wasn’t in your best interest but it’s too late for regrets now.
“You know where everyone in this city is at any given moment,” you say with a knowing tilt of your head and a flat stare. Today is not a day for games. “So let’s skip to the part where you stop playing coy and tell me what I need to know.”
Oh, it’s a risk. Using that tone with him. But you did not come here as a beggar. Not today.
The Bowery King doesn’t disagree because it would be a blatant lie on his behalf if he did. But he doesn’t answer, either. He spends another few moments simply observing you—as if weighing something inside his mind.
“And what’s your plan?” his question is borderline mocking. “You’re going to just waltz into whatever hole they’re hiding in and then what? Unleash your poison? Didn’t work out too well last time, now did it?”
You don’t particularly want or care to divulge your plan to him. The fewer people know, the better. Besides how you approach this depends entirely on where exactly the Lovers are hiding. And you know they are hiding. They don’t leave their prey alone until it’s dead. You and Santino are too conveniently here for them to ignore. They underestimated you but you doubt they’ll be repeating the mistake again, either.
“Leave the semantics to me,” you state calmly, staring him down. “I just need their location. Fast. Before they have time to plan their next move.”
The Bowery King nods, looking towards Earl again with an expression that seems to say ‘see’.
“Yes, very sensible,” he notes, amused. “Anything else you would like with the location of two psychotic killers? Some fries perhaps?”
Exhaling, you lean back in your seat, tapping your fingers impatiently against the armrest.
He wants to play with his food, does he?
Thinks this is a joke?
“What is it that you’re so fond of saying?” you pose coolly, your expression turning remote. “You owe me?”
A slow smile blooms across the man’s face; unapologetic and bordering on cruel.
“Oh, yes,” he drawls, his lips pulling back into something sharper and he shrugs once, nonchalant. “Dear old Zach.”
“How is he nowadays?”
A careful, measured question.
You watch him as he sighs, rolling his eyes as if he’s working hard to recall the information.
“Seems like the poor man succumbed to a mysterious illness,” he replies simply with a careless little shrug. “Last I heard.”
Yes, thanks to your poison.
It’s quiet for a beat and you hum thoughtfully, looking towards the light that filters through the windows.
How interesting.
“Tragic.”
“Isn’t it just?” the King voices sharply, leaning closer, his previous smile gone. He stares at you for a long minute before his features break into another slow smile. “Very well. A favour is a favour. I’ll get you their location.”
You don’t thank him. Because there is nothing to thank for. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just wasting your time. He could have agreed right away instead of this wordplay that—for once—you have no patience for. It’s dangerous to play like this with a man of his influence. He’s still New York. He has his own role to play and he plays it well, keeping order on the other side of the coin. But he’s also growing more and more powerful and brazen. Something to keep in mind and monitor, you conclude, standing to your feet.
“And so the scale is tipped even once again,” the Bowery King declares loudly, inclining in his extravagant seat. “I look forward to doing business with you again very soon, Vipress.”
You look at him over your shoulder.
“Hopefully not too soon.”
The Bowery King’s loud cackle follows you out.
“You still haven’t given him a name?”
John pauses and gives you a cautious sideways look.
“No.”
“Why not?” you can’t help but demand, watching as the dog happily comes running towards you both. He looks so thrilled that you can’t help but crack a smile as he chews on his toy, dropping it at your feet.
It’s gotten warmer. The afternoon sun could almost pass for pleasant as long as the wind doesn’t rattle the trees too hard.
It had been an impulse, coming here. You had no intention of doing so. And with everything else going on, it was probably not the best idea, either.
But you also needed space, perspective, time—to gather yourself, plan, think.
Your knee and ribs twinge when you lower yourself towards the ground in order to grab the toy and it’s a good reminder. A reminder that yesterday had been luck and nothing but luck.
Luck always runs out, Winston’s wry voice reminds you and you suppress a sigh.
The Lovers. The Black Dragon. Chicago. Things always circle back around.
But this time you will not go into a situation blind.
The dog nudges his wet nose against your hand with a pant and you pet his head, your slight grin growing.
“You should name him.”
Your fingers still, and the dog’s tongue lolls to the side, his tail wagging excitedly while he waits for you to throw the toy again.
“Me? He’s your dog.”
It’s your turn to sound wary, cagey.
Perhaps because it implies too much—gives you power and space in his life you did not expect him to grant. It’s still startlingly clear that neither of you knows how exactly you fit now. That there is underlining tension between you that’s ever-present.
But you promised you would try.
For yourself, not anyone else.
Because you need clarity with John. Either you bury whatever still exists between you once and for all, or you try to patch up your old relationship.
“You were there when I got him,” he informs you bluntly. “That gives you…some rights.”
You can’t quite help your startled snort. “Some rights? Wow, don’t spoil me now,” you mutter jokingly, shooting him a look over your shoulder. You rub the dog’s ear again and make a contemplative sound at the back of your throat. “Hm, fine. You sure you want to give me this much power? What if I name him something really deep like…Cheeseburger?” you offer, and noting the slight whine and tail wag, add an amused, “Hey, I think he likes it.”
A brief glimmer of a smile appears across John’s face. “I would be elect to ignore it,” he deadpans dryly but his expression is lighter in that moment, empty of the weight he carries.
Suppressing a snicker, you narrow your eyes. “Huh. Now that’s just rude,” you point out equally as dryly and rub the dog’s head again. “Isn’t it, boy? Mean Johnny won’t even name you.”
You pick up the toy and the dog dashes forward, practically vibrating with excitement as he waits for you to throw it. You do. It sails far in the distance before falling heavily onto the grass and the dog races after it, carefree and happy. For a brief second, you almost feel envious of that happiness, of that freedom.
“What’s going on, (Name)?”
Your dim smile fades, and you turn to face him. He looks so normal in his casual, everyday clothes. Average. A normal man just living his life. You could pass him on the street and never know what he’s capable of—never know just how much people fear the mere mention of his name.
But that’s the thing about John. He’s always been a man of two sides. A man you loved and a man…a man you never got to know. Not really.
“What makes you think something is going on?”
His expression is drawn, serious, and he regards you with a look that doesn’t belong to John-the-Man but to John-the-Boogeyman instead. The look of quiet, lethal focus you once knew him so well for.
“You didn’t have those bruises the last time we spoke,” he notes carefully, and something icy lingers in his calm, critical words. “And you weren’t walking with a limp.”
So he noticed. Of course, he did. He’s John. Not many things slip past his notice but it’s easy to forget sometimes.
You sigh under your breath, looking towards the distant horizon where the New York skyline touches the sky. Somewhere out there, your enemies await. Somewhere out there, they might be planning your and Santino’s deaths as you stand here playing fetch. It makes you restless. But there’s only so much you can do until you have their location and that, unfortunately, is not in your hands right now.
When your attention returns to John, he’s still rooted in the same spot, silent and attentive. “It’s currently being handled.”
He doesn’t look reassured. “The High Table?”
You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you tilt your head in consideration. “Not…exactly.”
“Is it serious?”
Astute as always.
“Yes.”
You aren’t sure which worries you more: the Lovers or the Black Dragon. Both are a threat; a too big, sizeable threat. But the fact that the High Table hasn’t gotten involved personally is…telling. You’ve been mulling over the situation in your head and a lot of things either don’t add up or imply rather interesting things.
“Do you need help?”
Your eyes find his.
He stands before you—a phantom of a man—and you feel a stab of pity in your heart. Why does he offer something he can’t stomach to even think about? You wonder if he realises how obvious and plain it is to see on his face how the very idea seems to weigh on him. Eat at him from inside out.
“You can’t help me,” you tell him bluntly and give him a meaningful look. “And we both know you don’t want to.”
Even if it would be nice. To stand with him again, to fight beside him again, to know that John Wick of all people has your back.
His lips part before he presses them back together again. He seems to control his first impulse reaction which no doubt would have been a vehement denial. “That’s not it,” he says instead but his voice sounds thin.
A slight, scathing smile tugs your lips upwards as you gaze at him.
Wind ruffles his dark hair and he looks younger with the sun kissing his skin, and bright afternoon light brightening his usually aloof demeanour. You’re glad to see it. He needs this peace, this quiet.
Maybe one day, you will get to experience it, too. Get to live the rest of your life like those sunny three days in Naples a year ago. Free of every worry, every fear.
It’s not that you want to leave this world you’ve made your own behind. You’ve suffered too much to be where you are now just to abandon it. You’ve carved and tore a space out for yourself with teeth and hands bloody to retreat after victory.
It’s more to do with the fact that you want to breathe and actually feel the freedom that breath gives you. To not be bound by anything or anyone that isn’t your own choice or making.
“Isn’t it?” you wonder coolly, but your voice is empty of judgment or anger. “You get involved in this world again, and there won’t be a ticket back this time. You got lucky. But if you do this now, you’ll be right back where you started. Is that what you want? Is it?”
“No.”
That’s exactly what you thought he will say. You wait for resentment or bitterness to hit but…
You didn’t come here with the intention of asking for his help. Looking at him now, you haven’t even expected him to offer it, no matter how reluctantly. You could demand it, of course. Santino seems convinced that you should. And indeed with John at your side taking the Lovers would be—perhaps not easy—but certainly less challenging.
But you know what it’s like, teetering on the edge and fearing that no one is going to help you and pull you back. Understand you. That someone might throw you deeper into the abyss for their own gain instead.
If you ask this of John, you will be the one doing the throwing.
If you ask this of him, you will be no better than Tarasov was with you. No better than even John himself was when he left, believing wrongly in the depth of your inner strength.
“Then trust me when I say that you’re better off not getting involved,” you inform him coolly, ignoring the way he clenches his jaw as if frustrated. Perhaps with himself, perhaps with the situation. “I’m respecting your decision to stay retired; as your former friend. It’s better this way,” you reassure him because it’s true. If you hope to rebuild, this is not the way to start, so you add a weary, “If I drag you back into this due to my mistakes…you will just grow to resent me.”
“I could never resent you.”
He says it so simply and with such quiet conviction in his voice that for a long moment you have nothing to offer in return. Like it’s so easy for him; a fact of the universe that’s never going to alter. It feels like he’s reached inside your ribcage and grabbed whatever is left of your heart, squeezing it in his powerful fist until it trembles.
A distant, cold part of you recoils at his words, at the softness of them, at the way he stares at you like he believes them wholeheartedly.
Your hands slide inside the pockets of your jacket as you half-turn away from him. “I should go.”
“(Name)—”
You pause briefly, frowning, and look up at him. “After I’ve dealt with this…I—I would like to talk with you. Properly. About everything,” you force out, your words stilted. “If we are to try and be friends again. If you even want to—”
John takes a step closer, his expression earnest.
“I would like that. My door is always open to you.”
Swallowing, you dip your head in an awkward nod, and with the sun warming your shoulder blades, you almost feel hopeful for the first time in a long while.
The map rolls out across the large table, and you flatten your fingers across it, smoothing the edges.
The room is dead silent.
“Are those…” Roberto fades off, staring at the plans in front of him in clear confusion.
“Sewers,” you confirm with a slight dip of your head. “That’s where they’re hiding.”
The map is riddled with red dots and messy scribbles. The Bowery King had passed you the map with a derisive little twist of his mouth, wishing you a happy hunt through piss, shit, and fat of this city. It took him less than a day to locate them though, so you can't exactly complain.
Ares stares at the map in open disgust and Santino’s repulsed expression is no better.
“It’s smart,” you admit, albeit reluctantly, as you trace your fingers over the paper. “The entire system stretches across 6,600 miles, including mains and pipes. They knew what they were doing. It’s a perfect place to stay off the grid but also make sure it’s easy to defend. They can have entry points watched at all times not to mention runoffs in case of an attack. It’s smart.”
“But they are pushing themselves into a corner, aren’t they? If they’re attacked, it will get messy,” Roberto points out curiously. “It doesn’t seem that smart to me.”
“Not if you don’t care about collateral damage,” you remark, unfazed, folding your arms over your chest. “Not if you’re like them.”
The large man in front of you falls quiet at that, but you can see him frowning even under his heavy beard.
“What did the Rat King demand in return for this information?” Santino asks from beside you and you still. “He did not simply give you this map out of the kindness of his non-existent heart.”
You risk a brief look his way before dragging your eyes back towards the table, shifting in your spot. It’s rather difficult to look at him after your earlier…encounter. Hard not to recall his smooth, accented voice in your ear and the scorching heat of his touch.
When did you lower the wall between you so much that such a simple moment manages to get under your skin like this? You have known him for a long time and it’s hardly the first time he has spoken to you with that breathless intimacy in his voice. Hardly the first time he’s touched you.
Hardy the first time you’ve almost kissed.
What, exactly, has changed between you?
“Nothing,” you reply shortly, trying to keep your voice even. “He owed me.”
You feel the heavy weight of Santino’s scrutiny focus on the side of your face but he doesn’t comment further. After another beat, he leans over the map. His long fingers trace over it, his golden Camorra ring gleaming in dull light as his eyes trail over the paths and circled spots.
“How many?”
You step closer, falling beside him, and push the awkwardness away. This can wait till later. You have business to attend to first.
“At least fifty,” you say, and point to a spot on the map. “They mainly use this Southern entrance on the outskirts of the city and the King’s men observed them use another three for exits and moving supplies. Here, here, and here.”
You point to each spot and Roberto leans over, curious. Ares does the same a moment later and the four of you consider the large parameter in silence. Not the best thing for this type of job because it stretches out your own numbers too thin.
“Fifty,” Santino mutters, pensive. “Less than I expected.”
“They weren’t able to give me the exact numbers but that’s the minimum we should expect,” you inform him, and he glances at you. “It would make sense if they initially took smaller numbers to remain invisible. Smaller numbers also require fewer resources. It’s rather interesting that the Dragon didn’t just unleash it’s full might if they want us dead so badly.”
Santino straightens, his eyes narrowing. He braces his hand on the table but his attention is solely on you. “Ah, you think they are hiding.”
“Don’t you?” you pose calmly and judging by the calculating gleam in his eyes, you already have your answer. “An ambush? Hiring someone else to do their dirty work for them? Why bother with the Lovers at all? Why not just go straight to the High Table? Which must mean…”
“Whoever it is doesn’t have proof.”
So he’s been thinking about it too.
For a moment, you simply peer at each other. “Which must then mean that whoever is currently running the Dragon is either unaware of what happened at Chicago, or they know but won’t risk a direct fight. They’re using the Lovers as a scapegoat, a cover. Do we know who's running the Dragon currently? Could we find out?”
“No,” Santino replies and you hear the poorly veiled resentment there. “Only the members of the High Table are in contact with the Dragon. Sister dearest will know once she officially gets the seat. They prefer to, hmm, keep things private after the last time.”
Santino’s scorn is clear and you don’t blame him.
Yes, the last time…
Roberto and Ares are quiet. Neither has pushed for more information, even though you know they want to. Ares knows enough but even she hasn’t demanded more. Whether it’s out of trust or loyalty, you don’t know, but you appreciate it all the same. As far as they know or care, someone is coming for you and Santino. Coming for one is coming for all of you. That’s good enough for them.
Your arms loosen and you rotate your shoulder to alleviate the ache in your ribs before glancing back towards the map with a sigh. “I will take the Lovers myself,” you announce quietly, resolute. “We need at least one of them alive.”
“Absolutely not, cara—”
You interrupt him before he can no doubt make a spectacle out of your differing opinions again. “I’m not stupid enough to go alone,” you reassure him, scrunching your eyebrows at him in an almost insulted manner. “Ares and I will take point. Roberto and at least a few dozen of your men will be there too. But the Lovers are another league. It has to be me. Ares will be my backup.”
But his expression is surprisingly unyielding, surprisingly grim. “Then I’m coming as well.”
Something in your chest twists.
“Absolutely not,” you snap immediately and shake your head when his lips part to argue. “The last thing we need is to have our focus divided. If you come, the only thing the three of us will do is worry about keeping you safe. And I know you’re a good shot but we can’t afford to present such an obvious opportunity for the Lovers. You know I’m right. And don’t look at them,” you add when you see his attention go from you to Ares and Roberto. “They work for you, they can’t refuse you.”
Santino scowls, irritated, but considers your words. “Very well,” he says, at last, reluctant. You’re surprised he’s not pouting—yet. “But I will still be overseeing, cara mia.”
“I figured you’d say that,” you shoot back, your words mock sweet. “Minimum six guards and you’re armed the entire time. Let’s not make it too easy for them, shall we? They’re after you too.”
This is why you must focus the Lovers’ attention on you. Why they have to be so busy fighting you, they forget Santino exists. An image comes crawling through your mind, then—an image of the male Lover with his thin, long fingers and wrapped, awful smile squeezing his hands around Santino’s throat. The crack of bones. A dull thud.
Your jaw clenches so tight, you can hear a distant buzzing in your ears before you banish the thought away.
No. Something like that will never happen. You would never allow it. Neither would Ares or Roberto.
Still, the fact that he even suggested going…
He’s is not a fighter—has never been one—and he hates getting involved if it’s anything as high stakes as this. Which makes you wonder why it’s now he considers doing so.
Is it worry? Fear that something might go wrong? He knows what you’re capable of so you know it has nothing to do with him looking down on your capabilities and yet—
Santino raises his chin, his expression relaxing slightly as the harsh curve of his eyebrows eases and he regards you with a slight twitch of his mouth. Something changes in his expression; a minute shift that darkens his eyes and slows his breathing.
I enjoy it far too much when you worry about me.
Your eyes skitter away from him at the sudden recall and you focus back on the map.
“They’re also pyromaniacs,” you remind the people in the room and clear your throat. “Experts from what I’ve gathered. I think we can safely assume they will have the entrances rigged with explosives. It’s what I would do.”
“Stop any possible attacks and cut off exits, trapping attackers inside,” Santino assumes smoothly and makes a small noise at the back of his throat. His attention shifts towards Roberto. “Make sure the men have a copy of this map, and get eyes on all these entrances as quickly as possible. Guard rotations, numbers, weaponry. I want to know everything, is that understood?”
Roberto nods at once, clasping his tattooed hands in front of him. “Sì, capo. Consider it done.”
Santino inclines his head and turns towards Ares. “What are you thinking? Two teams? Three?”
You share a brief look before she turns towards the two men.
Four teams. One for each entrance. We go through the main one. Hard to tell where the duo is going to be located, she signs with a solemn glower and traces her fingers along the tunnels. We should assume a safer central position. But the parameter is wide. Do we have any other information about the inside layout?
Her eyes focus on you again but you shake your head. “They couldn’t sneak anyone in without someone noticing,” you tell them but lean over to place your fingers against the large cavity in the plans. “But this seems like a nice little spot. It’s far away from the main entrance, it’s open enough to house large numbers, and if they need to escape they can easily access all the different exits from here.”
To prove your point, you tap your finger in a circle where the exits are marked. “If we go in from the South, we send smaller teams to block off the other exits. They want to be rats hiding in the sewers? Let’s make them exactly that.”
“Ah, they can’t blow all the exits, unless they want to trap themselves inside, too,” Santino muses and when you look at him, you’re unsurprised to see a slight smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. “The idea of them rotting is a rather appealing one, I must admit. What are our numbers?”
He directs this question at Ares and she pulls a face. Depends on the time constraint.
“As soon as possible,” you insist immediately and she sighs heavily.
Then 3-0, at best.
Are they at least good shot? you sign back and Santino makes a disbelieving sound at the back of his throat.
“Amore, I’m going to try and not be insulted by that,” he mutters wryly and you fail to hold back your quiet snort at his incredulous tone. “Camorra doesn’t employ useless idiots.”
“Yet you complain about how incompetent everyone is all the time.”
His mouth opens to no doubt grace you with a witty retort but he seemingly draws blank, making you suppress a smirk of your own.
“How quickly can you gather the men?” he demands instead, turning back towards Ares and the woman needs a second to empty her own expression of impish amusement.
By tonight, she reveals and you straighten, ignoring the twinge in your muscles.
Your attention goes to Santino and he looks at you at the exact same moment.
You share a long, weighty look before you turn back towards Ares and Roberto. Their own expressions are dour in a way that tells you they already know what will come out of your mouth next.
Thirty is hardly the best number, but it will have to do.
“Make the calls,” you order grimly. “We attack tonight.”
It takes another three hours of planning before you depart from the penthouse.
Ares and Roberto are busy rallying the men when you go, and Santino is busy making calls for additional resources for the said men.
You have a plan. You have the formations and have tried to prepare for as many scenarios as you could.
What if there are more than fifty men? What if the Lovers are not there? What if they are there, and what weaknesses can be exploited when you attack?
The plans were good, solid, but plans also go to shit. That’s why you’ve left to do your own prep.
Santino figured it would be smarter to stick together until the attack but you don't fear the Lovers. And going against them underprepared would be stupider. That’s why you departed with a promise you will meet them at your agreed spot outside the Southern entrance tonight.
Your first stop had been the Doc’s clinic.
As if there’s anyone else in this damn city you would ever trust to get you back into a fighting shape. Your limp and bruised ribs would be too much of a distraction and a slowdown in open battle. Doc had been less than enthusiastic about your request—he’s a believer of natural healing more than anything—but he also recognised how these injuries could cost you your life. That’s why, despite his displeased muttering, he patched you up the best he could. Made you drown at least three different solutions which tasted as disgusting as they smelled before he was satisfied.
A large needle in the knee later, you could walk around the clinic without a limp.
“It will reduce the swelling and the bruising for a while but won’t magically heal it,” Doc had told you, moving around his storage room and pulling different bottles out and checking their labels. “You will regain full mobility till the effect wears off but I would not recommend fighting.”
“I have no choice.”
“Liar,” he had grumbled and flicked your ear with a keen frown. “Violence was committed against you so now you go seeking retribution. Because you believe, wrongly, that it will make you feel better. Do you even know how to live without this violence anymore, V?”
You had said nothing in reply because you both knew the answer to his question.
No—not anymore. That, too, has been taken from you.
You left the clinic an hour later, feeling better than you have in days—if not weeks—and had set your sights on your next stop. The Continental.
Your arsenal is protected by Continental walls, and you can’t go into a fight without it.
Heading straight for your room, you only spare Charon a brief wave before mentally running through your plan of attack.
Your phone buzzes for what is no doubt the tenth time in this last hour alone, and you check the information coming your way. Namely, new intelligence about the Lovers. Most of it, much to your dismay, is already known to you.
Their hits. Tortures. Few new tidbits about their hunting methods but nothing hefty enough to really give you an edge.
The male is certainly the bigger physical threat but the female is apparently the more vindictive one. She delights in the torture. He simply enjoys the hunt, the thrill of the chase.
Recalling the intensity with which he tried to run you down, you’re not surprised to learn as such.
Sparing a brief look at yourself in the mirror, you start to get ready.
Your combat gear is scattered around the room and you gather it quickly. Usually, you have to wear a pretty dress and heels to do a job. It’s often more about blending in and striking when no one expects it. That’s why you rarely gear up for war like this.
But you’re methodical about it. Sturdy boots, braces for all your joints, blades of varying sizes and makes curtesy of Sommelier himself, and enough ammunition to keep you battle ready without slowing you down.
And most importantly, you pull out your bodysuit, spreading it across the bed. It’s pitch black and soft to the touch. The flexible, lightweight masterpiece was custom-made specifically for you a little over a year ago now. Completely bulletproof even though getting hit still hurts like a bitch.
Franco—undoubtedly the best damn tailor in all of Rome, if not the world—had delighted at the challenge. He specialises in men's wear, but your request had proved to be unique enough to grab his attention.
He produced the design in a week.
And spent the following three months crafting it by hand. A perfectionist through and through.
“It is unique. There is no other like it in the world,” he had told you proudly when he presented it to you. “And already paid for,” he added with a knowing smile when the topic of payment came up.
Predictably, it had been Santino who paid. When you confronted him about it—he knows you hate presents and won’t accept them—he had simply told you it wasn’t a present. That it was a job tool you will use to work for him on future jobs. He had considered it an investment.
Looking back on it now, he’s far slyer than you gave him credit for because you believed him then.
But.
The suit fits you to perfection—not too loose to give people a chance to grab onto you but not tight enough to constrict your limbs, either. Just perfect, and you’re grateful for it.
There’s a slight sheen to the material in this light. It makes your body glimmer like a black diamond, you think as you stare at your reflection, or perhaps a dark star.
Or a deadly viper with shiny, black scales.
Your lips twitch slightly.
With knives and extra ammunition attached to the suit and spare pockets, you certainly look and feel deadly.
By the time you add poison to your arsenal, you can’t help but think that perhaps it’s the Lovers who should be worried.
You hope they are.
Because they won’t live past tonight.
Your phone rings ten minutes out.
Your plan was to leave it with Santino right before you go in but keep it on you in case any last-minute information comes through.
It takes one peek at the name on the screen for you to hurriedly press the Answer button and press it to your ear.
“I didn’t expect you to call me,” you say down the line, tense but curious.
The male voice on the other end answers with a teasing, “I am insulted, carina,” he mutters before a slight chuckle sounds on the other side. “Now, please tell me that I’m brilliant because I truly am. Tell me how brilliant I am, V.”
Your eyes flicker outside where the New York streets blur. “Depends on what you got for me.”
“Check your mail.”
Putting him on the speakerphone, you do. A new message has just come through and you open it. An attachment pops up; an attachment with two images of familiar but much younger pale faces staring back at you. A breath rushes out of your lungs as you hurriedly scroll through the information beneath the pictures.
“How did you get this?” you wonder, breathless. “No one has been able to find anything about their pasts.”
A pleased, boyish laugh sounds in reply. But you hear the ice underneath it, the cunning. “Oh, you know how it is. A touch of hacking, a bit of murder, some extortion and it’s all very live and let die, no?”
You pause because you’re not sure how to answer him. With him, it could be all of the above or none—that’s just how he is.
“You’re brilliant,” you reassure him as your eyes devour the information about the Lovers. “You are the most brilliant Italian I’ve ever met.”
“Uh oh. Don’t let Santino hear that,” he jokes with a loud snort. “He might throw a fit. But yes, thank you for acknowledging it, carina. I am. I do believe you owe me a kiss and a dance next time you are in Rome.”
You shake your head with a slight laugh. “You’re unbelievable,” you state dryly. “But thank you. I appreciate this. Truly. You didn’t have to,” you add, recalling the last time you all saw each other. The circumstances were less than pleasant.
“Nope! I most certainly didn’t, but I couldn’t resist a damsel distressed, you see,” he shoots back followed by the sound of a plastic packet opening and some crunching. Is he eating? “Mhm, by the way. Speaking of which. Don’t tell Hector. Or the Iron Crow for that matter. Please, tell Santino though. Maybe he will be less of a prick to me the next time we see each other.”
Iron Crow.
An apt name for Gianna, perhaps. But—
“Hector?” you wonder, your features twisting with confusion. “Why would I tell Hector? I haven’t seen him in over a year.”
Silence answers you before you hear more shuffling and chewing. Your confusion transforms into something else, something sharper. “Step,” you begin, tightly. “Why would I tell Hector?”
“Let’s just keep this a sexy secret between us girls,” he says with forced cheer in his voice. “Don’t do anything I won’t—and we both know that list is pretty short. Ciao!”
“Step—”
The line goes dead.
“Shit.”
You try to ring him back twice but he doesn’t pick up.
There is no time to try for the third time because the taxi rolls to a stop, and you hand the golden coin without so much as a second glance at the driver.
The rest of the way, you walk on foot. It takes another five minutes before you reach your destination. You don’t waste time, reading the information Step has so kindly sent you on the way instead.
The male had a predictably troubled childhood but the female—
The further you read, the more you feel something like resentment starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach.
A figure ahead catches your attention and you put your phone away, trying to digest everything you’ve just learned.
As agreed, Roberto greets you just outside the parameter, stiff-backed and silent.
“How are we looking?” you ask him as he falls in step beside you.
He, too, is dressed for battle, and you’re glad to see the bulletproof vest covering his broad chest. He will no doubt need it before the night is done.
Overhead the moon disappears behind clouds and your head tilts. The air is full of cool dampness that’s usually followed by heavy downpour, and you wonder if it's going to affect the sewers in any way. Hopefully, if it does, it will be to your advantage.
“We’re on track,” he reports promptly as your feet crunch on the gravel. “We have secured the Southern entrance. The guards change every four hours so we still have two hours to go before anyone comes looking. Flavio is overseeing the teams guarding the other exits but they’re hidden for now. Ares and Boss are waiting for your arrival. We’re ready to begin.”
“Any explosives?”
Roberto mutters angrily in Italian before dipping his head in a nod. “Oh yes, the bastards had enough to blow half the block just on the main entrance alone.”
Your head turns in his direction. “Have they been disarmed? Do other teams know what to expect?”
Roberto grunts under his breath, his mouth twisting beneath his beard. “Sure thing, V,” he responds and in the darkness, you think you see him grin briefly. “Ares disarmed them herself. Called the Lovers primitive idiots.”
You snort, and the sound cuts through the night air loudly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
A small opening appears ahead and you recognise the figures moving around the darkness.
Ares is easy to spot with her slight, lithe frame and your eyes sweep over the space trying to locate another figure.
Santino stands next to one of his large Range Rovers, the bright headlights bathing him in a luminous glow as he oversees the preparations. One of the guards—an individual on strike team if the uniform and the bulletproof vest is anything to go by—talks with him, but even from this distance, you can read Santino’s restlessness. His answers are short and clipped, his body language near hostile, tense.
Another guard—this one in a suit—approaches him and hands him an umbrella.
Your chin tips upwards again, and you realise it’s started drizzling. The water feels fresh and cold against your skin and you blink up at the sky slowly.
By the time you look back towards Santino, the Italian seems to have spotted you as well.
His eyes darken with every step you take closer, drinking in the sight of you. He doesn’t bother masking his desire, he never does. It’s not in his nature to do so.
“What a terrifying get up, amore,” he greets softly, his words an intimate brush against your senses. “Perhaps the Lovers will fall to their knees and start worshipping you the moment they see you instead.”
Your mouth curls. “Would certainly spare me the trouble of killing them.”
Santino doesn’t say anything, simply gazing at you before shooting a brief glance towards Roberto and the guards. The men, to their credit, understand and scatter immediately, effortlessly integrating themselves into the undergoing prep.
“You’ll get soaked,” he comments lightly and lifts the umbrella, placing it partially over your head. “Not a good look, cara mia.”
Your tongue feels heavy for some reason, but you still force out a strained, “A bit of drizzle hasn’t killed anyone yet, you spoiled bastard.”
Santino chuckles, low and deep, and takes a step closer. With the large, black umbrella hiding you away, it feels like you’re in some pocket universe, hidden from everyone.
But just as quickly as his joy blooms, it withers, and something grim is left standing in its place.
“Stick with Ares and Roberto,” he orders but it’s a soft thing, more of a request, a worry. “Don’t do anything stupid, either, hm?”
Your heart thuds in your chest while you stare at his shadowed features. “Worried?”
He doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to. You know he is.
Your hand reaches out and you move his suit jacket aside. You’re not sure if he’s breathing. But he is wearing a holster and you see a pistol snug against his side which eases your mind a touch.
“Worried?” he whispers gently, almost jokingly.
“Yes.”
Because you are leaving him in a sea of mostly unfamiliar, untested faces. They will protect him only because they are paid to do so and it’s their job—not because they’re loyal. Not because they care for his wellbeing or even like him and that’s a flimsy, easily broken protection to rely on.
Because you would only trust Ares with his life, and perhaps Roberto, but they are coming with you instead.
Because it’s seared onto your mind. The image of his broken neck and lifeless eyes.
If you fail here tonight, then the Lovers will come for him next and that thought chills you to the bone.
“I do not regret Chicago,” he speaks suddenly, and you pause, confused. His eyes are hooded and full of familiar simmering heat, but you can’t recall the last time you’ve heard him sound so morose. “Hell itself could come after us, amore, and I still won’t regret it. In fact, I would do it all again if it leads us here every time.”
Sometimes you don’t understand him at all. “Why?”
His lips twist into a roguish, irritatingly charming grin that feels like a tickle. A tickle that seems to whisper Smile with me, this is for you anyway and you almost do.
“Paris,” he declares with an arch of his eyebrows. “Once we’re done with the swine, let’s finally go, shall we? I’ll tell you then.”
The drizzle transforms into a light downpour and you inhale deeply. “Start ordering the tickets then. This shouldn’t take long.”
You duck your head to step from under the umbrella but his fingers wrap around your wrist, and he tugs you back, making you glance sharply in his direction.
Santino exhales deeply, his grip on your hand tight, burning. “If it goes wrong,” he breathes quietly, his words as fierce as they are gentle. “You get out. No matter what.”
Your throat closes up.
No matter what.
You know he means that literally.
Get out even if it means slaughtering your way out of those damp tunnels—even if it means sacrificing your team, even if means leaving Ares and Roberto behind.
I lost the title, but I have no intention of losing you too.
But you’re unsure if it's a promise you can give him—or one you can keep.
Reaching out, you press your thumb against the rigid line between his furrowed brows. His expression eases but his grip doesn’t.
“I’ll try, grumpy.”
Tugging your hand free, you step from beneath the umbrella and relief follows every step he doesn’t try to stop you.
Ares greets you with a nod and a wink. Finished saying your romantic goodbyes yet?
You shoot an irritated glare her way and sign back, Do not start.
Her slight smirk widens, now all teeth, and you elbow her.
“Are we ready?”
She nods once and waves her hand above her head; a signal for the men to gather around. They do so in a matter of minutes and you count ten before you. Others have split off to guard the other entrances and intercept anyone trying to escape or call for help.
Together with you, Ares, and Roberto that makes thirteen.
Everyone is armed to the teeth, and when Santino stalks over to address the group, you can’t help but direct your attention his way just like everyone else.
“You have been instructed what your task is,” he says crisply, his expression drawn. “You know your formations and you know what to expect in there. These are trained individuals so don’t be stupid enough to underestimate them. Kill them all, but if you see the Lovers do not engage. Your task is too clear a path only. Clear?”
The men call out confirmations and you look towards Ares who secures a gas mask over her face. Roberto does the same, swiftly followed by the other ten.
You’re the only one left standing without a mask and you inhale deeply, smelling the rain.
Your eyes briefly meet Santino’s through the halo of darkness his umbrella creates before you turn back towards your team. “Let’s go and say hello, shall we?”
The group falls into formation with you, Ares, and Roberto taking the lead. The tunnel ahead is a gaping pit of darkness and Ares silently signs for the men to turn on their torches. The light is dim as you move slowly, quietly, through the damp space.
For a while the path stretches straight, everything still and dark. The dull symphony of rain echoes, bouncing off every surface. To get to the central position, it will take at least another ten minutes on foot and four different turns when the path eventually branches out.
The further you creep, the fouler the stench in the air becomes but you keep your focus on the sounds, anticipating movement ahead. The element of surprise will be crucial and you have no intention of letting it go to waste. Everyone else is more than aware of this too, their footsteps careful and measured on the slick concrete.
A loud, gurgling sound explodes through the tunnel, and Roberto jerks his machine gun upwards on instinct, your hand snapping out to still him. Ares lifts her hand in the air sharply, stopping the suddenly tense team as well. The sound of gutter rain washing through the mains overhead is near deafening and you slant your head, listening intently. Everyone relaxes a moment later and you pat Roberto’s arm once, reassuring, before jerking your chin towards Ares to keep moving.
You clear the first intersection without any troubles, taking a steep left. Then another few minutes of silence and rain before you come upon another intersection. The team hovers before the plunging turn, waiting, listening, before Ares motions with her hand and the group moves again.
By this point, the water in the tunnel is up to your ankles and you wordlessly gesture for everyone to take extra care, to slow down further if needed. The cover of rain is helping in this case, but it’s rather difficult to hide the sound of thirteen pairs of feet trudging through water all the same.
Ares halts ahead, tensing, and your hand tightens around the blade in your hand. It’s the third turn-off, and you know that if you were right to assume the Lovers have taken up the central position here, you will start seeing bodies soon.
She raises her arm and holds out two fingers. Over the sound of dripping pipes and the loud rush of rain, you can just barely make out two voices. Coming closer.
Brushing against her side, you tap your fingers against her shoulder once and she nods. Roberto falls back a step, already knowing the routine and making you more space to use.
Voices draw closer. Closer. Closer…
You and Ares move so quickly, you don’t think the two men even have time to register what’s happening until it’s already too late. Your blade sinks into the soldier before you like butter and your hand slaps against his mouth, muffling the sound of agony as you twist the blade inside his neck. The man stumbles and falls back against the tunnel, his eyes blown wide open. He reaches for the blade but it’s too late. His life blows out like a candle and the bigger struggle is trying to get his flesh to release your weapon.
Ares steps away from her own fallen victim and wiggles her fingers at the rest of the team.
Roberto and another three men move at once, dragging the bodies to a darker, more secluded corner of the tunnel. Hidden from sight for now.
We are getting close, she signs but you’re barely paying attention.
You let the familiar, calming coldness envelope you instead. It’s like sinking into the deepest depths of an ocean and the only thing left is the end goal. Your head becomes a barren wasteland of death. John once described it to you as an absolute stillness of one’s psyche. A place where you are driven by instincts alone. Survival is the only thing that matters.
It took you years to achieve it, but you feel it now. A distant, calming call and you take a step towards it just like you take a step in the real world.
You reach the centre in less than three minutes and know you were right long before you do.
Silently, softly, with all the malice in the world, you and the team take out another five men before you reach the entrance.
With your back resting against the damp wall, you prepare the canister in your hand with ease that betrays your intimate knowledge.
Roberto stands ahead on the opposite side of the wall, his machine gun raised, ready. Ares drills the team on formations and numbers Roberto relays to her from the few glimpses inside.
Warm light permeates from the entrance and despite the stink and the damp in the air, you hear amiable conversation buzzing inside. A mix of languages and dialects. Some familiar to you, some not.
Rolling the canister in your hand, you give Ares the agreed signal. She moves to stand beside you and raises her hand in the air again. She holds out five fingers.
Five.
Four.
She glances at you, meeting your hard stare through her gas mask.
Three.
Two.
You feel your team collectively tense and inhale.
One.
The canister sails through the air, exploding with thick vapour upon contact, immediately followed by another.
The previously peaceful space flies into chaos, and you use it to your advantage. The team slices through the opposing ranks like a whetted, deadly blade, and bullets rip through the air seconds later.
The Dragon’s men scramble for their gas masks, seemingly realising what’s happening when their friends start dropping to the ground with screams of pain.
Poisoned and dying a painful death.
You could have used a paralyser, of course.
But that would have been kind.
You have no kindness for people who are trying to kill you and Santino.
Cutting through the vapour, you realise a few things at once.
There are certainly more than fifty of them.
And you can’t see blonde hair anywhere. Not the bright, eye-catching shade of it anyway.
Those fast enough scramble to grab their guns, and you fall behind a pillar, easily taking out five men with a clean shot each.
It’s chaos.
Chaos of poison, bodies, bullets, and blood.
Seeing an opening, you dash forward, jumping down few steps to sink a blade into a man’s chest, slicing down. Twirling around, you shoot another in the head, and duck down, letting Roberto shoot another two bodies over your body. The first man drops beside you—now dead—and you rise to your feet with the cover of Roberto’s gun, letting another three blades find their targets.
On your left, a bit further down, Ares is ripping through bodies with a ruthless efficiency that almost matches your own.
Another clip of bullets later, you feel a frustrated snarl bubble at the back of your throat.
You don’t have time for this. Where are—
Your eyes catch a blur on your right and you manage to react just in time to kick Roberto out of the way before an explosive drops meters away from you. Throwing your body to the side, you let the small bang rattle the air.
Purposely weak.
A bait.
Even if it injures—if not outright kills—at least three of the Dragon’s men.
Their bodies lay still and unmoving and you choke down a cough at the stench of burned flesh.
Jerking your head towards the Eastern entrance, you spot the male Lover standing at the entryway.
He’s tall and lean as you remember—and just as terrifyingly elegant.
Your eyes meet and his thin lips stretch into a breathless, pleased smile upon spotting you.
He seems unbothered by the poison floating through the air, or perhaps believes he’s too far away for it to affect him with the distance and no wind.
He lifts his hand and crooks his index finger at you, beckoning you to him. Then, he turns and disappears down the darkened tunnel, not bothering to help his men fight.
You risk the briefest of glances towards Roberto who is already getting back on his feet before snarling in Ares’ general direction, “Cover each other!”
“V!”
Ignoring the loud shout, you sprint towards the Eastern entrance. It’s a trap. Of course, it is. But you are not going to let him get away.
Either you die here tonight, or the Lovers do. There is no option C.
A figure rushes at you, blocking your path, and you bite back a snarl.
A bullet hits your side and another. As if you would ever make it that easy.
You’ve survived too much to falter here—now—at the hands of some faceless nobody.
You launch yourself at him, your thighs wrapping around the body as you use the momentum to twist yourself around his waist and bury your blade in his neck.
Gravity drags you down.
The man drops to the ground heavily, you on top of him, and your legs creak from the impact as you rise at once.
Your team is capable.
Your team was always meant to make a path, to give you a window of opportunity.
Darkness gobbles you up as you sprint ahead, disappearing into the unknown of the tunnel ahead.
Your feet are almost as loud as the rush of water and you try to visualise the path ahead of you.
A turn left and then another right will bring you to an open—
You bring your arm down with a ferocious snarl but an iron-like grip stills you before the blade can connect with flesh.
Your head slams against the tunnel wall, the blade in your hand trembling while the slim, pale fingers around your wrist tighten with numbing force.
The dim light above illuminates one side of an elegant, cold face. The male Lover looms over you like an angel, terrible and beautiful all at once.
“He told us you were fast,” he whispers, grinning.
You relax the grip on your blade, the cool metal sailing down, and catch it with your other hand, jerking it towards the man’s stomach but he stops you again, his grip equally as painful.
“But so am I,” he reveals, his grin stretching.
With a sneer, you kick him harshly in the knee, jerking your hands back as he stumbles away, the blade dropping to the ground. You hurdle yourself at him, not giving him time to recover.
But—
He is fast.
His blocks are lightning quick. He fends off your elbow, bending your arm harshly. You swipe another blade across his forearm, barely scratching him when he pulls back on time.
A punch. Block. Your blade slips again.
You twist from his grip, but he yanks you back to him. A swift blow follows but you block, your muscles straining under your skin.
Your arms wrap in each other, tangled, caught in a standstill, and you bare your teeth at him.
He just looks smug.
He’s too fast for you to use any weapons effectively. Too fast to even reach for any poisoned blades you have on you since you tend to keep them at a safe distance to avoid accidents.
Shoving him backward, you aim a kick towards his knee to redirect his attention.
He blocks again, ruthlessly efficient.
But using the momentary falter, your fingers wrap around his jacket and you use it to strike him in the throat. In reply, he slams his fist against the side of your temple. You react just fast enough to make his fingers skim over the skin instead, twisting to one side with a shaky stumble.
A punch that powerful would have knocked you out cold.
You swipe your leg to trip him but he meets you halfway, your knees knocking together harshly and yours quivers from a dull throb of pain, making you gasp.
His grin stretches further. He looks ecstatic.
“First time,” he notes calmly, his dark eyes flashing. “Since I’ve danced with someone who can keep up with me. I wonder if the Italian is half as fun as you are?”
Ice slides through your veins, mind, and quietens the roar in your chest. The fleeting panic at his raw strength and speed fades.
And
then
stillness.
Your head cracks against his. You don’t even feel the pain that follows, not really. He stumbles wildly and you punch him right in the face before grabbing his shiny golden hair and slamming your knee brutally in his face. Blood spills across those lovely porcelain features but there is nothing in your chest—nothing but a distant feeling of vicious gratification.
You pack all the strength in your body when your leg connects with his chest.
The male Lover stumbles backwards, falling, his features finally breaking away from the calm smugness and into something else.
You expect rage like last time but that’s not what you see.
A blade slips into your hand and you stalk towards him with every intention of splitting his throat open.
He thinks—
He thinks he has any right to even imply—
Your instincts prickle before you reach him and you lurch to the side, your blade meeting another.
The clang of metal is earsplitting.
Your arm doesn’t lower as you scowl at the figure in front of you.
Large, bright eyes glare at you with equal viciousness, an equal amount of contempt.
The female. Finally.
“How’s the arm?” you wonder, bored.
The noise she lets out is near animalistic and you pull back when she tries to bring her blade down. Hers is longer and heavier. A medium-sized hunting knife but the advantage is still yours.
Or it would be if—
You fall to the side clumsily, rolling, as you just barely avoid another kick to the ribs. A weak spot as far as they know.
The male and the female come to stand side by side as you straighten, glaring at them.
There’s a stretch of silence between you, nothing but the roar of water and grime of New York keeping you company.
The female’s broken arm is tightly bound to her body, leaving her with only one arm to use. She’s the weaker fighter too, her skillset laying in the explosion making from what you’ve learned.
He’s the strength and she’s the brains.
You’re beginning to understand why they’re so fearsome.
Winston called them rabid dogs. Staring at them now, you can’t help but mutely agree.
The man wipes the blood from under his nose, his tongue swiping lazily over his fingers. He’s grinning though, his teeth bloody and he looks almost manic.
“You exceeded our expectations,” he states as if you should feel proud of that but you try to subtly catch your breath instead, considering them. “We heard stories about you. The infamous Viper. They say you are one of the best, if not the best. But now—now, I know you're just like us. I was wrong to judge you so quickly. You, too, teach through pain. Like me and my beloved.”
He gently trails his fingers over the woman’s face and she leans into his touch. Her guard doesn’t drop though. She’s still glaring at you.
“You see this world through a broken lens,” he states softly, and his smile is almost pitying. “You know what it is to be broken and unwanted. But I’m afraid—”
You throw a blade you sneaked into your hand at him but a bullet hits you in the chest a second later. Dropping to the floor, you groan loudly, and the woman falls on top of you, her features distorting with rage.
She shot you.
“I’m going to carve you open, snake,” she hisses, clearly underestimating the depth of your injury. She raises her blade, bringing it down hastily. You catch it with your hand, the finely honed edges cutting into your gloved fingers and a harsh breath rattles from your chest. “There will be nothing left.”
She swears the last part in honeyed French and your expression hardens, your grip shuddering when she leans her entire body weight into it. She pushes closer; so close you can smell her, feel her warmth, and that’s when—
Gathering whatever little moisture you still have in your mouth, you spit at her and she jerks back instinctively. You rotate your joined hands, aiming for her neck.
Another pair of hands stop you only inches from the curve of her throat, the knife slipping and cool fingers wrap around your neck, yanking you to your feet. The female remains on the floor, wiping at her face while you wheeze, struggling for breath.
The male Lover slams you against the tunnel wall and then again. Your vision swims and your ears ring. His bloodied features blur in front of you. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? The fun is just starting.”
“Did you really think we didn’t know you were coming?” the female adds as she comes to stand behind her lover, smiling placidly. “Our guest of honour?”
The light above disappears.
The tunnel is enveloped in suffocating sort of blackness, endless and terrifying, in seconds.
Your heart stutters.
The grip on your throat loosens, then disappears.
“Where are you, viper?” the man wonders.
“Where are you, little snake?” the female coos, soft and mocking.
Stillness cracks and splinters inside your chest, something sharp and freezing rushing through your veins instead.
You gasp for breath, trying to locate them but their voices reverberate with the rush of water—
Water—
Underground.
“Are you lost, little snake?”
“Oh, dear. You are lost.”
“All alone. No one is coming for you here in this pit.”
The water is like a screech inside your head.
Your head being forced under; no air, no air, no air—
“You’re dead to the world.”
Your heart is hammering so fast it hurts, it hurts—
It’s tearing out of your ribcage.
A swift, brutal kick lands against the back of your knees.
You crumple to the ground with a cry of pain.
A weight settles on top of you, keeping you down.
You can’t breathe.
“I wonder if you taste sweet?” a male voice breathes against your ear, his voice warping between two different tones, accents, pitches. “Are you venomous all the way through, I wonder?”
A hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear.
Followed immediately by intense pain tearing through your left ear.
Your trash wildly, your limbs clumsy and panic-stricken, a tiny noise of agony escaping your quivering lips.
“Shh, shh,” a gentle voice that sounds like Kishi but not Kishi soothes followed by a delicate brush of fingertips against your cheek. “It’s just a little…cut. You’re special, you see. I’ve never met someone like you before.”
His voice is a faint melody against your fracturing senses.
You can’t see, you can’t breathe, something hot trickles down your ear and neck—
Blood. Your blood and you feel a scrape of cold metal against your skin again—
A flare of light—
Gunshots rip through the air—
The weight disappears and there’s indistinct shouting, followed by sounds of a struggle.
You force your limbs to twitch.
Water, water, water, in your mouth—
You can’t breathe.
Light flares again and you turn your head towards it, bleary-eyed.
Ares—
Ares is fighting the male Lover and—
No, no, no—he’s too fast for her. He's so fast. He’s like you—
You gasp, forcing air into your lungs.
You’re not in that pit. Kishi is not here.
Kishi is dead.
Kishi is dead because you killed him.
Your fingers slide down your suit, clumsy and shaking, but whatever they touch doesn’t seem to register.
“Stop your squirming,” the female spits and grabs you, moving her knife towards your throat. “Get up—”
You’re faster.
The vial smashes right against her forehead and you stagger back as she lets out a scream so loud, your ears ring. Her skins bubbles—an ugly, blistering red—and she covers her right eye, choking on her wails of agony.
Your pistol slams against the back of her head and she slumps towards the ground. You drop on top of her, your knee pushing against her spine. You aim—
“Shoot her and I snap her neck!”
You freeze. Your hand is shaking so badly it might have embarrassed you normally, but you feel the heat of your freshly spilled blood dripping down your neck and it makes you angrier. It wakes you up from your panicked haze.
Your head lifts slowly. The woman beneath you is sobbing, still clutching and scratching at her raw skin.
She will always be beautiful.
She will heal.
But she will never look into a mirror again without remembering you.
Nor will she ever see with her right eye again.
The male Lover is holding Ares in a chokehold and the sight of it makes your lips twist. The only light to be found in this darkness is from Ares’ fallen torch. Yet you can’t help but feel like the male Lover can feel your fury from where he’s standing even if he can't see you clearly.
Ares has her teeth grit tightly, jaw stubbornly clenched, but the moment she squirms, the man constricts his grip on her neck painfully. Her gas mask is missing and through the darkness you try to meet her eyes.
The male Lover jerks them closer towards the light and you press the barrel of the gun against his lover’s head.
“Don’t think I won’t,” you sneer, your voice hoarse and breathless with unbridled rage.
The man chuckles though with his features smeared with blood and hair a mess, he looks no better than you likely do. “Oh, I know you would. That’s why you’re so much fun,” he tells you and pulls Ares closer while she claws at his hands, drawing blood. He barely seems to notice. His frenzied stare is on you and you alone. “But why must you hurt my love so? What are you trying to teach us, viper? Tell me.”
You remain silent, breathing heavily. Your ear hurts more than you would care to admit.
“Tell me!”
It rips through the tunnel like a gunshot, echoing.
“Let her go,” you intone coldly, your words thin. “Or I will splatter your lover’s brain all over this grimy, shitty, good for nothing hellhole tunnel.”
His expression strains, his mouth quivering before he swallows and nods, regaining his composure. “A trade, then.”
The woman beneath you is still sobbing, her cries now more muffled and smothered, and you wonder if she even heard your threat.
Ares shakes her head angrily, tapping her fingers in Morse code against her thigh.
Kill him.
You yank the woman up by her golden hair and she tries to fight, tries to struggle, but you press the cool barrel against her temple and she stills.
“On three.”
He stares at you wildly. “Two.”
Your jaw clenches. “One.”
Two things happen simultaneously.
The woman in your grip jerks forward, striking her elbow into your stomach, effectively throwing your aim.
At the same time, Ares breaks free from her hold, slamming her body into the man behind her.
The female Lover doesn’t linger to fight. She uses your moment of pained confusion to dash into the darkened pathway behind you, leading her further into the sewer system.
You veer after her, firing twice, but your grip is too shaky and both shots miss.
Pivoting, you aim your pistol back at the male Lover only to find him right in front of you. His fist strikes your hand, your pistol sailing through the air, and you both crash against the wall again.
He holds your hands between you, the blade you had managed to grab just in time trembling between your bodies. His other hand rests against the curve of your throat.
Ares is on the ground, unmoving.
“What did you—”
“Don’t worry, now,” he reassures softly, his thumb tracing your pulse. “She’s just sleeping. Breaking her would be easy. But she’s unworthy—unlike you.”
Gritting your teeth, you shove the blade closer towards his stomach and his grip on your wrists tightens, his features going taut.
“Do you hate me, viper?” he wonders faintly with a tilt of his head, baring his teeth at you. “Let me teach you about hate.”
The hand around your throat loosens and you try to slam your forehead against his again but he leans back, tutting, “Not this again,” he comments, his voice dripping with disdain. “We can dance another time, you and I. It’s been so long since I had such a worthy partner. How does that sound?”
He pulls something from his pocket and—
Your heart sinks.
A detonator.
You could have written off their earlier comment as chance or a figure of speech, but this proves they had known.
Known that you were coming.
His finger caresses the button and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. You jerk the blade again, your forehead dripping with sweat but he only laughs under his breath.
His eyes flutter open, and he grins at you; a sharp, cutting thing. “What are you trying to teach me? What is your lesson?”
You say nothing, concentrating only on gutting him.
His smile fades at your silence.
He presses the button.
The tunnels rock at their very foundation and you hear the far away crash of stone and concrete.
The sound rushes in your direction, deafening, and your heart seizes.
“Ares!” you scream from the top of your lungs, your grip loosening but the male Lover only you watches you with wild interest. “Ares, wake up!”
She twitches.
“Ares!”
You trash in his hold, no longer caring about killing him.
You need to get out.
She needs to wake up and you need to run as fast as you can.
She blinks; once, twice.
“What lesson—”
You snarl at him, your words clawing up from deep within you, barely intelligible. “I’m going to destroy you, Lucien,” you choke out, and watch how his features slacken with utter shock. “I will destroy you and your girlfriend. I will bury you both.”
His real name. The name from his childhood you know only thanks to Step and the information he gathered.
Lucien’s grip slackens and you sink the blade deep into his gut.
He makes no noise of pain. He only stares at you, awestruck.
His fingers latch onto yours but instead of removing the blade, he presses your hands deeper, his blood spilling around your fingers before he moves to grab the side of your face. You cringe in pain, his blood-covered digits pressing against your injured ear and smearing against your cheek.
“We are bound, you and I,” he breathes in wonder, and you barely hear him over the sound of crumbling concrete that’s rushing ever closer. “We were forged by violence and we are now bound by it. We always will be.”
Lips twitching, you twist the blade in his gut and he staggers back, laughing, clutching at his wound. “Next time, then,” he concludes with another listless smile.
You step after him.
A loud crack.
Dust rushes into the tunnel and you throw yourself towards Ares instead.
She’s stumbling to her feet but—
Her eyes are wide when they meet yours.
If it goes wrong. You get out.
No matter what.
Your fingers latch onto her forearms.
And then you kick her right in the chest with whatever little strength you still have left, sending her in the opposite direction.
Dust drowns you.
You don’t resurface.
. . .
an: RUH ROH!
Ahhh, I hoped you guys liked this wild, wild mess of a chapter. We had a bit of everything! How are we feeling guys? Team John? You guys are finally starting to move in a positive direction! Team Ares?? Hello??? Team Santi?? I assume you’re all going off lol. And where is my TEAM V AT????
Ngl, this chapter exists solely because I wanted to write everyone just....being a badass?? I like writing about people being badass. You also got a glimpse into how, exactly, V works with Team Camorra. Together they form the far superior Team Pasta. Also the Lovers?? How did you guys like my murder children? This is far from last time we’re seeing them heh~~
As always, you are all so damn amazing, I’m so grateful for you all. Thank you for reading and supporting this series you amazing, wonderful people! Till next update!
#john wick#john wick x reader#santino d'antonio x reader#john wick fic#santino d'antonio#john wick imagine#keanu reeves#riccardo scamarcio#fic: children of ares
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Muses and tags :: Overhaul and Revamp 03/17/2019
Name: Frederick Winston
Age: 28
Face claim: Jensen Ackles
Gender: Male
Nicknames: Fred, Freddie
Species: Incubus
Sexuality: Straight/ Gay-Verse (Prefers top more than bottom)
Height: 6’1”
Size: 8 inches fully hard
Personality: Difficult, dishonest, experimental, deceptive, stable, popular.
Relationships: None
Profession: Bar tender/Owner
Hobbies: People watching, psychology, music
Kinks: Master/Pet, Master/Slave, orgasm denial (giving end), spanking/slapping
Tags: ::predator behind the bar:: -Frederick ::will of the demon:: Frederick desires
Name: Conrad Hanley
Age: 45
Face claim: Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Gender: Male
Nicknames: Con
Species: Demi-god
Sexuality: Straight/ Gay-Verse
Height: 6’2
Size: 9.5 inches fully hard
Personality: spontaneous, playful, adventurous, adaptable, abrupt, erratic.
Relationships: Marie Hanley (ex-wife), Apollo (father), Susanne Hanley (mother-deceased)
Profession: Journalist
Hobbies: Photography, videography, reading, archery.
Kinks: Voyeurism, Public sex/Exhibitionism, light bondage, discipline/punishment (giving end)
Tags: ::Strength of the old lines:: -Conrad ::will of a Demi-god:: -Conrad desires
Name: Dwayne Paewai
Age: 38
Face claim: Jason Momoa
Gender: Male
Nicknames: None
Species: Skin Walker
Sexuality: Straight/ Gay-top
Height: 6’4”
Size: 10 inches fully hard
Personality: Confident, dominate, hard headed, disciplined, vindictive.
Relationships: Leilani Paewai (mother-deceased), Maceo Paewai (father-deceased)
Profession: Ex-bodyguard, ex-military, owns a security detail company
Hobbies: weight lifting, gun smithing, fighting.
Kinks: cock worship (receiving), public sex/exhibitionism, Impregnation/breeding, begging.
Tags: ::Twisted man of myths:: -Dwayne ::will of a Skin walker:: -Dwayne desires
Name: Theodore Baines
Age: 24
Face claim: Freddie Highmore
Gender: Male
Nicknames: Theo, Ted, Teddy
Species: Elf
Sexuality: Straight/ Gay-Verse, prefers to bottom
Height: 5’ 11”
Size: 7.5 inches fully hard
Personality: Insecure, clumsy, obedient, self-conscious, sweet, sympathetic.
Relationships: Georgina Baines (mother-estranged), Alfred Baines (father-deceased), Douglas Baines (brother).
Profession: Photographer
Hobbies: cooking, graphic design, birdwatching.
Kinks: Pegging, breath play, light bondage (receiving end), Slave/master.
Tags: ::Lost elegance:: -Theodore ::will of a Elf:: -Theodore desires
Name: Leonard Klossner
Age: 32
Face claim: Chris Evans
Gender: Male
Nicknames: Leo
Species: Vampire
Sexuality: Straight/ Bisexual-Verse
Height: 6’2
Size: 8.5 inches fully hard
Personality: Persuasive, organized, flexible, procrastinating, reactionary.
Relationships: Julia Klossner (mother-deceased), Ernst Klossner (father-deceased).
Profession: Thief, pick pocket, criminal.
Hobbies: Lock picking, knife collecting, knife making.
Kinks: Orgasm denial (receiving end), Rimming, multi-partner, physical pain, begging.
Tags: ::Master of the shadows:: -Leonard ::will of a vampire:: -Leonard desires
Name: Mia Lowell
Age: 135
Faceclaim: Brie Larson
Gender: Female
Nicknames: M, Furball, spitfire
Species: Werewolf
Sexuality: Bisexual
Height: 5’7
Size: D cup chest
Personality: Little quiet, comfortable in a group, protective, occasionally possessive, often tries to detach and remain unattached.
Relationships: None
Profession: Nomad-odds and ends jobs.
Hobbies: Photography, journaling, hunting, running.
Kinks: Power exchanging, spanking/slapping, biting, some blood play, name-calling, toys
Tags: ::Follower of the moon:: -Mia ::will of a wolf:: -Mia desires
Overall tags— ::desires coded in my dna:: -desires
::creatures of a carnal nature:: -verse creatures
::trying to get through life:: -verse humans
::the life of the queue:: -queue
::stripped down to the base level:: -ooc
#::Stripped down to the base level::#::follower of the moon::#::predator behind the bar::#::master of the shadows::#::lost elegance::#::twisted man of myths::#::Strength of the old lines::#::muses::#::[[Complete overhaul of this blog as of 03/17/2019]]::
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"I want to feel you... my love"
Here is the promised repost of my first P x Reader smut fic… now… with a gn!reader. Anything to make my readers happy! I also corrected a few things… and changed some words to make it sound better in my opinion. Enjoy it!
WARNING: Smut! Grinding, finger fucking, etc.
It has been like this for a few years now. [Name] would leave the safety of the hotel in the morning, two blades in each hand, a gun strapped to their hip and a desire to fight once more. Fight for the people of Krat, who have suffered far too long. Fight for the memory of two of the most important people in their life, their bestfriend Romeo and their beloved Carlo. That motivation is the only fuel left inside [Name]’s body to keep fighting against this nightmare, even if it meant returning to the hotel exhausted and tired. But with the arrival of the good puppet, the situation changed, there were fewer puppets to fight, the number of maniacs decreased and the hope in the people's eyes began to shine again. Geppetto's puppet, P, is a blessing to everyone.
At the very beginning, [Name] kept a distance. Watching the puppet from far away. From the way Lady Antonia was looking at him and talking to him, [Name] knew that the lady thought the same way as they did. That pretty face of his, that long chestnut hair, and the way he was built - it was all too familiar. As time went on, [Name] started to close the distance between themself and the puppet, to include him into their life, to open their heart for him. P is a valuable companion, P is the chance to bring an end to the chaos, P is the One who might heal this broken heart.
[Name] never planned to go this far. They never imagined that they would end up kissing him after he came back from a dangerous mission. They never imagined that they would whisper sweet words into his ear every time he paid them a visit in their little workshop, hidden in the basement of the hotel. And of course they never imagined that they would eventually want to take him to their room to devour every inch of his body. The young adult had opened their heart for him, something he fully embraced. As he began to become more human, he started to lean towards their actions, himself becoming needy and romantic. He let himself become affected by her gestures and words, causing the desire inside [Name] to grow even stronger. Soon, they would have to devour him.
The lovers entered the hotel, drenched in blood and oil. It had become normal for him to accompany them on what they call their 'hunts'. P needs to protect them, wants to protect them, so [Name] had no choice but to allow him to join. Step by step they climbed the stairs, both of them heading towards their room.[Name] opened the door slowly and walked in, immediately removing anything heavy from their tired body. Their coat fell to the floor while their blades and firearm were gently placed on a nearby table. A groan escaped [Name]'s lips as they moved their head from side to side to release some of the pressure from their sore muscles. "Ahhh, it really hurts today. I should have been more careful.
“Mia cara”.
[Name] turned around the moment the petname reached their ears. Oh, God above, [Name] loves it when he calls them by that petname. Their orbs focused on his face, observing how his soft lips were parted slightly and how his eyebrows were slightly lowered to show his concern. "Oh, my love, it's all right. A little pain didn't stop me then and it won't stop me now," they said softly as while stepping closer to him. Their left hand found its way to cup one of his cheeks, thumb stroking across his skin. [Name] watched as he leaned into the touch, his head moving slightly to ensure that their touch reached every tiny spot. The both of them remained like this for a while before [Name] leaned in for a kiss. Their and his lips pressed against each other, both their hands now reaching for a spot on each other's bodies.
[Name]'s body was burning. They needed him now.
With all the strength left inside their tired body, [Name] shoved him and themself backwards. A slight slap echoed through the room as his back hit the wall. The tip of their tongue pressed against his lips, waiting for P to understand the action or a moment where he would open his mouth just slightly enough to let their tongue sneak in. It was no surprise that the second possibility proved to be the true one. Without any hesitation, [Name] slid their tongue into his mouth, twirling it around his as if they were going to dance. Unfamiliar noises, noises they had never heard from him, escaped from his mouth. This tongue kiss was a foreign thing to him, but one that felt so right. He slowly began to mirror their action, swirling his tongue around theirs like a dance, toying with it.
They both remained like this for some time until [Name] broke the kiss. Thin strands of salvia hung from both their lips, the young adult breathing heavily, and judging by the way he looked, P would probably be as well if he needed to breathe at all. Their eyes travelled over his body before grabbing his coat to help him pull it off. "Come on, love. Let's take this to the bed," [Name] whispered into his ear while they grabbed his hand.[Name] pulled him close enough to their bed before giving him a little shove. As he fell backwards into the soft mattress, his blue orbs still focused on them. If he were able to blush, he would now look like a ripe cherry.
P watched as their hands moved over their own body, tugging at each piece of cloth that covered their skin. The puppet's eyes grew wider and wider as one piece after another was removed from their body, leaving them with nothing but their natural beauty. "Do you like what you see, my love?", they asked with a cheeky smile on their face. Slowly moving closer, kneeling down on the bed right beside both of his legs. [Name] settled where his crotch would be, rubbing their lower half against his. They knew P isn't built after the normal human anatomy, certain human parts aren't necessary for a puppet like him but they didn't care. They would get pleasure from each other in a different way.
[Name] leaned forward, their bare chest pressed against his. A few strands of his chestnut hair finding its way between their fingers. They played with them for a few seconds before planting a soft kiss on top of the strands. "You're so beautiful P, like a dream in the shape of a person, like a light that keeps you secure in the dark. You are truly amazing, my love".Their attention returned to his face, watching his reaction. P looked confused but also charmed, something she could see in his sparkling blue eyes. [Name] moved their face once more closer, planting a kiss on his lips before moving them along his throat, stopping at his chest. Fingers finding their way under his shirt, carefully pushing it up to pull it off his body in one swift motion.
His chest was incredible. The skin looked so soft, so radiant and untouched. It felt like they were looking at an ancient painting. A painting that summed up the word 'beauty'. [Name]'s fingertips rubbed circles into his skin, poking him just slightly to see if he would react, and to their surprise, he did. Soft, short gasps left his lips and his back arched slightly the more they touched him. It was a delicious, alluring and erotic view, one that made the feeling inside them burn even more. [Name]'s hands found their way into his pants, pulling them down by the waistband. Leaving the puppet exposed in all his naked glory.
Even without any sexual human parts, with no cock between his legs, he still made them lose their mind. A short moan left [Name]'s lips, a blush spreading across their face. They couldn't contain themself any longer. "P, my love, look at me. Look what you are doing to me." The young adult pressed their knees deeper into the mattress, moving their hips back and forth, grinding their body against his body. [Name] felt the slight shape of a bulge beneath them, perhaps meant to express a certain masculinity in the puppet's form, pressing against their sensitive parts. Their hands grabbed his hips, using them to pull themself deeper into his frame. He observed them satisfying their needs with his body, while they gave him the pleasure of watching them in return. The puppet's eyes glowed in a bright shade of blue, words tried to leave his usually quiet throat, but he couldn't. The sight of his lover took his breath away.
"P... P!" they moaned over and over again. His name falling from their lips as if it was part of a beautiful song, sung by them. He watched as their genitals rubbed more and more against his artificial skin, leaving a wet trail which seemed to shimmer faintly on his skin. Their body bounced with every movement, making him realize how perfectly shape they are. The puppet loved watching [Name] show themself to him in such an erotic way. P could feel a certain sensation running through his springs as he kept his eyes on them. He was certain that if he was more human, he would feel the same way, he would feel aroused.
As he watched them continue to pleasure themself with his body, a certain desire began to grow within him. A desire to be part of the act itself. Away from watching and enjoying the show, to be part of their pleasure. P placed one of his hands on their lower body, halting their movement. He could sense the uncomfortable feeling behind their eyes, a bad moment to stop their pleasure, but he had to do it. With his other hand, he carefully pushed them off his body, letting their body drop down beside him. [Name] was about to raise their voice but was stopped by the feeling of cold metal touching their genitals, rubbing it gently before entering their opening with his fingers "P! Ahhh... there. Yes, right there!".
His action was a little surprising. But not as surprising as the fact that he knew almost immediately where to place his fingers. P's fingers were gentle, carefully exploring their inside. Fingertips rubbing along their walls, looking for the spot which would bring them true pleasure. The puppet seemed to have grasped the concept of finger fucking far too quickly.
They moaned louder and louder, almost singing to him. His name echoed through the room. Over and over again. He began to move his fingers faster, stronger. The springs in his body almost burst at the sight of his lover in total ecstasy. His lips also tried to please his lover with wet tongue kisses, following the rhythm of his fingers. The puppet desired all of it.
[Name]'s nails sank into his back, their body trembling and their moans became choppy. With one last call of his name, they came. Their juice coated the sheets. For a moment they closed their eyes, only to open them again to see their lover curiously holding up his fingers soaked in their juice. The faintest smile on his face. As if he appreciated the result of his actions. [Name] pulled his hand away from his eyes, forcing him to look at them. Without any hesitation, they took his fingers into their mouths, licking off their own juice, aware by the way he looked that his springs were responding again.
"My love...you are so good to me. But I'm certain. We could do even more, P."
#lies of p#lies of p x reader#p x reader#gender neutral reader#inventor!stalker!reader#repost!#smut#I hope you like it guys
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