content info: mdni, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v, praise, light choking/breath play, blood, graphic violence, murder
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you unlocked the door and pulled it open. the hallway stretched out in complete silence. left. right. no one. you stepped forward. looked both directions once more. nothing.
you walked back inside. closed the door. turned the lock. and then you smelled it. that scent. familiar. impossible. your entire body went still. slowly, almost afraid to look, you turned around.
he was standing by the window. motionless. his broad shoulders outlined by the last light of the evening. long blond hair falling loosely around his face. one hand resting in the pocket of his black jeans. the other behind his back.
he'd been watching the city. watching your city. from your apartment. as though he'd always belonged there. he turned his head. those impossible crimson eyes found yours instantly. they softened the moment they did.
he smiled. "hi."
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his eyes never left yours. they pinned you to the spot. your blood ran cold. your heart forgot how to beat. you couldn't move.
you had just locked yourself inside your apartment, with the most dangerous man alive. with him.
with SAINT
for a long moment he simply looked at you. his gaze wandered slowly over your face, your shoulders, your trembling hands. unhurried. almost curious. almost... relieved. one corner of his mouth lifted. "you knew i'd come back."
you stared back at him.Β his gaze felt impossible to escape.Β your fingers twitched faintly at your sides, but you refused to move. refused to look away. your heart pounded for two entirely different reasons.
and yet, some small, shameful part of your heart recognized him before it remembered to hate him. seeing him again. feeling his attention settle entirely on you. knowing he had never stopped looking for you.
he should have.
everything between the two of you should have died the moment he stained his hands with the blood of the man you were supposed to marry. but here he was. alive. breathing. waiting.
"i..." your voice betrayed you immediately. you stopped. closed your mouth. no, you wouldn't give him this. not your fear. not your anger. not the truth. "i told you to stay out of my life." the words came out steadier than you expected. hard. cold.
silence settled between you. then, without breaking eye contact, he turned toward you completely. the city lights slipping through the windows caught the pale lines of his bare chest. long strands of hair rested loosely over his shoulders. his gloved fingers drifted along his jaw. the sharp acrylic nails scraped lightly across his skin. he let out a disbelieving breath
"you didn't mean that." his voice was soft enough to make your stomach twist. "you were afraid, my love." - "i'm not afraid of you!" the answer came before you could stop it. he tilted his head slightly. "no..." another quiet breath. "i know you're not." he took one slow step toward you. "you're not afraid of me." his eyes searched yours. patient. certain.
"you're afraid because you already know how this ends."
your lips parted. nothing came out. he took another step. you found yourself taking one back before you even realized it. his gaze lingered on the small distance you'd tried to create. then it returned to your face. he stopped.
the realization settled deeper with every passing second. your stomach turned. the anger inside you grew until it burned beneath your skin. your vision blurred.
how could he stand here after everything he'd done? how could he walk back into your apartment, look at you like this, and still believe you belonged to him?
"how..." your voice shook. "what is wrong with you?" another breath. "you..." your words collapsed before they ever became a sentence.
he waited. one eyebrow lifted. watching you search for something that would finally reach him.Β he read every emotion crossing your face. grief. rage. disbelief. and beneath all of it, something neither of you wanted to name.
"you killed him, saint." the apartment fell silent. he looked at you for a long moment. not defensive. not ashamed. only confused by your pain.
"i freed you." your hands covered your face. you shook your head. "no." your voice cracked. "you did that for yourself." you looked at him again. eyes burning. "if you had cared about me for even a second..." your throat tightened. "...none of this would've happened."
he didn't answer immediately. his gaze drifted toward the floor. the toe of his boot brushed quietly across the hardwood. then he looked back at you. "you chose us." his voice remained calm. "you know that."
your jaw clenched. he continued before you could speak. "the moment you lied for me..." he took his time before answering. "...his blood stained both of our hands. whether you accept it or not."
the words settled somewhere deep inside you. heavy. suffocating. they refused to leave. all you could hear was the rain tapping softly against the windows. your own breathing. the frantic beating of your heart.
then you laughed. it wasn't laughter. it sounded wrong. sharp. broken. the kind of sound that escaped someone standing too close to the edge. you shook your head again.
"...you're insane." he didn't answer. he simply watched you. "you're actually insane." your voice grew louder. "you murdered the man i was supposed to spend the rest of my life with." your eyes filled again. "and you're standing here..." a breath caught painfully in your throat. "...telling me i chose this?"
he never looked away. not for a second. every word you threw at him landed somewhere inside him. he simply refused to move.
"say something." your voice cracked. "tell me i'm wrong." his eyes searched yours for a long moment. "you are." quiet. certain. as though the answer had never been anything else. your stomach twisted violently.
"how-" you stared at him. "how can you even say that?" - "because it's true." - "no." you laughed again. this time there was nothing left inside it. "you're sick." one corner of his mouth twitched. "maybe, but i've never lied to you."
"i'm the only person who's ever asked what you wanted." - "stop." he didn't. another slow step. instinctively, you retreated. your calf brushed against the edge of the coffee table. there was nowhere left to go.
"please." the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it. he studied your face. not your fear. your hesitation. your breathing. your eyes.
"you're still trying to convince yourself." his voice softened. "of what?" you whispered. "that you hate me." the words stole the air from your lungs. "i do." you answered immediately. too quickly. his expression didn't change. "then why are you trying so hard to prove it?"
your pupils widened with adrenaline. anger surged through you all over again. how dare he. how dare he stand there and tell you what you felt. your blood boiled. the distance between you vanished before you even realized you'd moved. your palm slammed against his chest. hard.
"no. you don't get to tell me how i feel." you shoved him again. harder this time. "you don't know what's going on inside my head." another shove. "you don't know anything." your palms struck his chest again. "stop acting like you know me." you shoved him once more. harder than before.
you were standing inches away from a serial killer. shoving him. pushing him with everything you had. and somehow, he simply let you. he never stopped you. never caught your wrists. never even glanced down at your hands. he only looked at you.
"are you finished?" you froze. your hand was still against his bare chest. you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. calm. unchanged. while yours threatened to tear itself apart.
you ripped your hand away as though he'd burned you and took several steps back. "leave." your voice shook. "i meant it the first time already."
a quiet, almost disbelieving breath escaped him. he lowered his gaze for a brief moment, giving the faintest shake of his head before looking back at you. "you didn't." he stayed exactly where he was.
a long silence followed.
"you really believe that, don't you?" his voice was quiet. almost gentle. your chest tightened. "believe what?" - "that you want me gone." - "oh, i do." - "no." the answer came without hesitation. "you don't."
your head snapped up. "because i know you." - "you don't know me." - "i know enough." you shook your head violently. "you know the version of me you made up inside your own head."
"the woman standing in front of me lied to the police." his words were cold. "she protected me." - "i was scared... that's all it was." - "was it?"
the question settled heavily between you. you opened your mouth. nothing came. your mind searched desperately for an explanation. for anything that could make sense of what you'd done. nothing.
saint saw it. he didn't smile. he didn't look victorious. if anything, there was only sadness in his eyes. "i thought so." your breathing became uneven again. "stop." - "you knew you'd go down with me."
he closed the distance between you until you instinctively leaned back. he was so close you had to look up to meet his eyes. every instinct screamed at you to move. to get away. but there was nowhere to go. he blocked your path without even trying. he didn't touch you. didn't have to. your pulse spiked. you felt trapped.
without thinking, you leaned back just enough to reach behind you. your fingertips searched the coffee table blindly, never daring to look away from him. cold metal. roman's gun. your breath caught. so did he. his eyes dropped to the weapon for only a heartbeat before finding yours again.
your fingertips remained wrapped around it. neither of you moved. the silence stretched until it became unbearable. saint's gaze never left your face. not your hand. not the gun. you.
he watched the way your breathing had begun to shake. the way your lower lip trembled despite every attempt to stop it. the tears you refused to let fall.
"...roman." his voice barely rose above a whisper. "he still believes you're his to save." you swallowed hard. "he wanted to keep you safe... he wanted to save the version of you that existed before me." his red eyes lingered on yours. "he just doesn't know she doesn't exist anymore." - "don't." your fingers finally closed around the grip.
roman had shown you how to hold it. how to keep your finger away from the trigger. how to breathe. how to shoot if you ever had to. you remembered laughing, because neither of you had truly believed this moment would come.
now, here it was.
the barrel rose between you. higher. higher. until you pressed the cold barrel against his bare chest. your trembling hands pushed it harder against him, desperate to create a distance that no longer existed.
he didn't react. not even a little. he never even glanced at the weapon. his eyes remained fixed on yours. "look at me." you hated that your eyes obeyed him. the moment they met his, your breathing faltered. "leave." your voice cracked. "please."
he didn't. he stayed exactly where he was. close enough that every detail of his face came into focus. the length of his lashes. the faint sheen in his crimson eyes. the slow rise of his chest. you could feel the warmth of him before you ever felt his touch.
"i'm exactly where i should be, y/n."Β his words were barely audible, meant only for you. he still didn't move an inch.
there was only the sound of rain. your heartbeat. and him. watching you. your finger found the trigger. it rested there. lightly. you had imagined this moment so many times. standing over him. watching him fall. watching the nightmare finally end.
so why... why wouldn't your hand move?
"you're shaking." you looked down despite yourself. he was right. your hands trembled so violently the barrel could no longer stay still. you tried to steady it. it only made it worse. when you looked back up, he was already watching you. his gaze searched yours with an almost unbearable softness.
"don't." your voice dissolved into another sob. "please." he didn't answer immediately. "if this is what you need..." his words came slowly. carefully. "...i won't stop you." your eyes widened. he wasn't daring you. he wasn't mocking you. he meant it. completely.
"if hurting me is the only thing that lets you breathe again, then i'll let you."
your lips parted. nothing came out. your finger pressed ever so slightly against the trigger. the mechanism shifted beneath it. your heartbeat stopped. he heard it. he saw it. still he never looked at the gun. only you. always you.
"i know." his voice was softer now. "you're trying." another tear rolled down your cheek. "i hate you." the words broke apart before they reached him. he nodded once. "i know." - "you ruined my life." - "i know." - "you took everything from me." his jaw tightened for the first time. only for a heartbeat. then it disappeared again. "i know."
your arms began to ache. they felt impossibly heavy. you wanted to pull the trigger. you wanted to end him. you wanted roman to be right. you wanted your heart to stop betraying you.
you wanted him dead
you repeated it inside your head again. and again. and again. you wanted him dead. your finger remained on the trigger. all it would take was a little more pressure. one movement. one decision. he would be gone. he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again.
roman would finally stop looking over his shoulder. the city would finally sleep. and you... you could finally breathe. couldn't you?
but your finger refused to move. your breathing became uneven. your vision blurred until all you could make out were those crimson eyes. they never left you. they never asked anything of you. they simply stayed.
"why?" your voice barely existed anymore. "why aren't you afraid?" he looked at you for a long moment. then he answered. "because i'm looking at you." the words settled between you. quietly. "...not the gun." another tear escaped before you could stop it. "you should be trying to stop me."
"would that help you?" you couldn't answer. "would taking it from you change what you're feeling?" silence. he already knew, it wouldn't.
"you don't want revenge." his voice remained impossibly gentle. "you want peace." your head shook immediately. "don't." - "you've been looking for it ever since that night." - "stop." - "and every day since then, you've convinced yourself that killing me would finally give it to you." your grip tightened until your hands ached.
"it won't."
the words broke something inside you. your voice rose. "don't you dare tell me what i feel." he nodded once. "then pull the trigger." not as a challenge. not as a taunt. simply permission.
"if i'm wrong..." his eyes never left yours. "...i'll die knowing i was wrong." your breath caught. there was no fear in his voice. no hesitation. no attempt to save himself. only complete acceptance.
he had already given his life to you. long before tonight.
your finger pressed harder. the trigger moved. another fraction. your entire body shook. you imagined the sound. the recoil. his body hitting the floor. the blood. so much blood.
your stomach lurched violently. the gun slipped lower. only an inch. he noticed. he didn't speak. he only watched your face.
your breathing collapsed into broken sobs. "i can't." the confession escaped before you could stop it. your shoulders shook uncontrollably. "i fucking can't."
your vision blurred completely. your eyes dropped to the floor, where your tears collected in dark, uneven spots against the hardwood. your arms gave out. the barrel dipped.
for the first time that night, he moved. his gloved hand lifted. he didn't touch the gun. he didn't touch your hands. instead his fingertips brushed beneath your chin. barely. just enough to lift your head.
with a sharp clatter, the gun hit the hardwood floor. the sound echoed through the apartment before silence swallowed it whole. the weapon that was supposed to save you now lay forgotten at your feet. and the only thing left within reach, was the danger itself.
he looked into your eyes. empty. exhausted. lost. he knew. you had made your choice.
slowly, slowly enough that you could have stepped away, he reached for you. one arm slipped carefully around your shoulders, drawing you against his bare chest. the other came to rest gently at the back of your head.
he never forced you. never held you tighter than necessary. every second left you another chance to leave. but you didn't.
your cheek rested against the warmth of his chest. your tears rolled over his skin, disappearing somewhere beneath the black fabric at his waist.
he lowered his head until it rested lightly against yours, holding you as though you might fall apart if he let go. "shh," his voice was barely more than a breath. "i know."
and that was when you finally broke. the sobs you had been holding back all night tore through you without mercy. your entire body shook against him. every breath came apart before it ever reached your lungs.
he was the reason for every ounce of this pain. he had taken everything from you. and yet, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe.
how many lives had those arms already stolen? how many people had taken their last breath because of the man holding you now? and still, they were the only place where your breathing slowly began to settle again.
he never said another word. he simply held you. one hand resting between your shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of your head. his heartbeat remained impossibly steady beneath your cheek. yours slowly, painfully, began to follow it.
after what felt like forever, you leaned back. your vision was still blurred with tears. your thoughts drifted somewhere between grief and exhaustion. you felt everything and nothing all at once. as though your mind had finally given up trying to understand any of it.
he leaned back with you, but never let go. his hands settled carefully around your waist, keeping you close without holding you there. his crimson eyes searched your face, studying every tiny change in your expression.
you couldn't bring yourself to meet them. instead your gaze settled on his lips. slightly parted. the same lips you had once allowed yourself to taste. back when everything had been different. when he had been nothing more than temptation. forbidden.
his breathing faltered. it was almost imperceptible, but you caught it. his expression softened even further as he realized where your thoughts had wandered. something fragile flickered across his face. almost disbelief. almost hope. he didn't move. he simply waited.
your hand slowly found its way to his face. your fingertips brushed across the pale softness of his skin, tracing the sharp line of his jaw as though you were trying to memorize him. he let you. he didn't lean into your touch. he didn't pull away. he simply watched you.
"guess there's no saving either of us now."
your voice was barely more than a whisper. the words lingered between you. slowly, almost hesitantly, you leaned closer. your eyes drifted shut. another tear slipped down your cheek. your other hand came to rest against the side of his neck, trembling beneath your fingertips. for one last moment, you could still turn away. you didn't.
the moment your lips met, his grip around you tightened instinctively. not enough to hold you captive. just enough to make sure you wouldn't slip away.
your kiss was desperate. months of grief, anger, guilt, longing. everything neither of you had ever put into words broke loose at once.
your fingers disappeared into his hair as though you needed something solid to hold onto, your body melting against his before you even realized it.
your lips parted only long enough to breathe. he found them again immediately. not impatient. not demanding. like someone terrified that, if he let you go for even a second, you'd disappear.
his forehead rested against yours for the briefest moment. his breathing was uneven now, no longer carrying the impossible calm he had held onto all night. for the first time, you felt it. he was shaking too.
everything beyond the apartment faded into silence. the rain. the traffic below. even your own thoughts seemed impossibly far away. there was only the warmth between your bodies. only the frantic rhythm of two hearts refusing to slow down.
his hands slid lower before he lifted you into his arms. without thinking, your legs found their place around his waist. your arms tightened around his neck, clinging to him as though your life depended on it. as though he had become the only thing left keeping you from falling apart.
with you held securely in his arms, he carried you toward your bedroom. a place he already knew. but under entirely different circumstances. now, he finally allowed himself to believe you were his. and in that moment, he wanted to make sure you would never have to question it again.
he lowered you slowly onto the silk sheets before following immediately after, leaving no room for even the smallest distance between you. not now. not after finally having you in his arms.
his body settled over yours. your hands wandered from his hair to his broad shoulders, down the length of his arms, touching every part of him you could reach, desperate to keep him close.
he braced himself beside your head as his lips found the side of your neck, sending a shiver across your entire body. you pressed yourself against him. the closeness still wasn't enough.
your hands slowly wandered lower, your fingernails grazing lightly over the defined lines of his abs. the touch drew a sharp breath from him. a faint smile tugged at your lips. he noticed.
without a word, he leaned down again, capturing your lips in another kiss. your fingers found his belt. with trembling hands, you undid the buckle.
the quiet metallic clink broke the kiss for only a moment. your faces remained inches apart. your eyes met. both of them clouded with the same overwhelming hunger. the rest of the world had long since disappeared. you were both completely gone. completely consumed by each other.
before you could undo the button of his jeans, one of his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. slowly, he lifted it over your head with practiced ease until you were left lying beneath him in nothing but your red lace bra and black shorts. the colors almost made it look as though you'd known he would come tonight.
his crimson eyes lingered over you for only a moment before he carefully helped you sit up just enough. he pressed slow kisses along your collarbone and down the exposed skin of your chest before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. he set it aside with surprising care.
then he eased you back onto the bed. the sight of you beneath him unraveled something inside him. to have you like this. so willing. so surrendered. so...
his
it wasn't long before his attention returned to you. every touch was deliberate, every movement patient. his acrylic nails dragged slowly across your skin, leaving behind thin, burning trails before he leaned in to kiss every single one of them away. it was a dangerous kind of tenderness.
slowly, he moved lower. loose strands of his hair brushed across your skin, every passing touch sending another shiver through your body. your breathing had become unsteady. you never looked away from him.
finally, his fingers hooked beneath the waistband of your shorts and panties at the same time. before pulling them down, he paused. his eyes softened. "may i?"
god. to have a serial killer between your legs - a man who decided for himself what he was allowed to take - looking at you with nothing but quiet patience, asking for permission just to undress you. you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling. "please."
then his gaze drifted downward. he pulled away the last pieces of clothing separating the two of you.
you watched him instead. the black eyeshadow dusted across his eyelids. the way the muscles in his arms shifted beneath his skin with every movement. he was so strong. so impossibly strong. the thought of everything that still lay ahead made your heart race.
before you even realized it, you were completely bare beneath him. his gaze lingered between your legs before slowly lifting back to your face. his crimson eyes had darkened, his lips swollen from kissing you, loose strands of hair falling messily across his forehead.
"i've waited so long for this." he breathed, leaning closer, close enough that every word ghosted against your skin. "you deserve to feel good, angel." his lips brushed your thigh. "i'll make sure of that."
your legs began to tremble ever so slightly. the anticipation. the unbearable question of when he would finally touch you.
then he closed the last bit of distance between you. the first slow stroke of his warm tongue against your clit made your legs jolt. once. then again. and again.
a broken moan escaped your lips and a low groan vibrated against you in response. then his lips closed around your clit, his tongue continuing its relentless rhythm.
he never rushed. every movement was measured. deliberate. it was almost like watching him kill. he knew exactly where to strike. exactly when. exactly how. every touch had a purpose. every reaction was calculated. he was a perfectionist.
and tonight, he wanted nothing more than to hear you.
"that feels good, doesn't it?" he asked softly. you looked down at him, your brows drawn together, your breathing quick and uneven. "y- yeah."
without breaking eye contact, he lifted one hand from your thigh and guided it between your legs. while his tongue continued to lick your clit, two of his fingers slowly traced over your entrance, spreading your arousal with deliberate care.
his other hand slid back up your body, gently pushing you back down again. his acrylic nails dragged a long, burning line from your chest down toward your hip while, at the same time, he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you. carefully.
his acrylics left your skin burning while his other fingers disappeared into you so gently, you barely felt them at all. the contrast pulled a loud moan from your lips. once again, his low groan vibrated against your center. he felt how tightly you clenched around his fingers. how much you wanted him.
your entire body grew tenser with every slow, agonizing movement as he slid his fingers in and out of you, never rushing. his mouth never left you, his tongue working without pause.
then your breathing hitched. you tightened even more around his fingers. he didn't stop. he knew exactly where you were. exactly how close. and he did everything he could to make you feel good.
"fuuuck, saint..." the moan tore from your throat as he gave you a few final slow strokes before you pulsed around his fingers.
he slowly withdrew them, then lowered his mouth further, letting his tongue taste every part of you. "god... i've dreamed about this." he said. his voice was lower than before. his crimson eyes burned with hunger.
then he came back up to you, searching your dazed eyes. your arms immediately found his shoulders again, your fingertips gliding over the faint sheen of sweat on his skin.
at last, he rid himself of his jeans. but before pulling them down completely, he reached behind his waistband and withdrew something metallic, setting it carefully onto your nightstand.
silver caught the moonlight. your gaze drifted toward it. it was a long silver dagger. its blade was adorned with intricate engravings, crimson gemstones catching every trace of light spilling through the room.
before you could look any longer, his hand gently guided your attention back to him. he kissed you again. deeper than before. hungrier than before.
"let me have you," he murmured darkly as he slowly dragged his cock over your sensitive clit. your breath caught sharply. "be mine." his voice was quieter this time. you answered with the smallest nod, your hands only pulling him closer. that was all the answer he needed.
you felt the head of his dick press against your entrance. then, slowly, he eased himself into you. inch by inch. his eyes never left your face. he wanted to see every reaction. every expression. every breath his length drew from you.
your fingers dug into his back at the feeling of his size. your eyes fell shut. his hand came up to your face, his thumb brushing gently beneath your eye. "don't hide from me." his voice was barely above a whisper. "look at me."
the moment they met his, he closed the final distance between you in one slow, decisive thrust. from that moment on, there was no holding back for either of you.
you clung to each other as though there wasn't enough space left to be any closer. every thrust seemed to reach deeper than the last. he kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless.
at first, he was careful. gentle. but little by little, he lost himself too. his movements grew rougher, driven by months of longing finally collapsing into this single moment. he wanted you to remember him long after tonight.
he felt you tighten around him again. every movement became harder to endure. he didn't have to ask. he knew you.
his gloved hand rose to your throat. the black lace contrasted against your skin as his fingers settled gently around your neck, stealing just enough air to make your pulse race. at the same time, his other hand found your clit again, never slowing the rhythm of his hips.
your eyes rolled back as a loud moan escaped you. "oh, i know, angel." he leaned close enough for his lips to brush yours. "let go." another slow thrust. "come on my dick." his forehead rested against yours. "for me." your eyes struggled to hold his gaze before your body clenched around him once again.
"fuck..." his voice shook with the feeling. "i'm so close." he kept moving, his pace never faltering. his eyes wandered over your body one last time, taking in every detail as though he wanted to memorize you exactly as you were.
then he lowered himself over you, bracing himself on both elbows beside your head. his hands cradled your face. "please..." the word sounded almost like a prayer. another thrust. then another. "tell me you're mine." his voice broke. "please."
your hands found his back, holding onto him as tightly as you could. "i'm yours, saint." you felt his entire body tense. he was right there. "i'm all yours." your voice trembled. "come for me." you pulled him impossibly close. "i need you." a shaky breath. "please."
that was all it took. he broke. you felt him shudder against you as his body gave in completely. he stayed with you through it, giving you a few final slow thrusts before finally pulling out and gathering you back into his arms.
both of you struggled to catch your breath. his embrace was firm. protective. and no matter how wrong all of this was,
it had never felt so right.
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the loud knocking pulled you from sleep. once. twice. again. before your eyes had even opened, you already knew who it was.
roman
you shot upright, panic surging through you as your eyes darted around the room. saint was gone. your gaze snapped to the nightstand. his dagger was gone too.
oh god. you had no idea what you looked like and there wasn't enough time to fix any of it. you threw on an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants before hurrying toward the front door. "coming!"
when you pulled it open, roman looked down at you with an easy smile, two cups of coffee balanced in his hands. "good morning, sleepyhead." you rubbed your eyes and stepped aside to let him in. "very funny." you muttered, closing the door behind him.
when you turned back toward him, he was standing completely still. his eyes were fixed on the floor. then they shot back to you. "was he here?" his voice had lost all warmth. "are you okay?" your blood ran cold. you knew exactly who he meant. but how did he-
"what? who? i'm fine." - "the gun." he cut you off. your eyes followed his. your stomach dropped. fuck.
the gun from last night was still lying in the middle of your apartment exactly where it had fallen. "oh, that." you forced out a quiet laugh. "i was a little stressed yesterday. i guess i must've dropped it." it sounded almost believable.
roman set the coffees down on your table before walking toward you. gently, he brushed his fingers along your cheek. his eyes studied your face:
swollen lips. bloodshot eyes. messy hair. love bites scattered across your neck. and... were those scratches disappearing beneath the collar of your shirt?
he didn't say a word. but something inside him already knew. or at least he thought it did.
"are you sure everything's okay?" he asked quietly. "nothing happened?" you shook your head. "no." you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "i promise." a smile appeared on his face. it wasn't real.
but he couldn't tell you that, somewhere between yesterday and this morning, you had just become one of his suspects. he held your gaze for another long moment.
he wanted to believe you. god, he wanted to. because somewhere between the daily check-ins, the latenight conversations, and the cups of coffee that had slowly become routine, he'd stopped seeing you as just another victim. that was the problem.
he cared. more than he ever should have. and that made it impossible to accept the thought that you could willingly let someone like saint close enough to leave marks on your skin. it didn't fit. it couldn't.
"okay." his voice was quiet. he looked away first. "you know lying to the police is a crime, right?" you nodded. he hesitated for another moment, searching your face one last time. then he let out a slow breath. "good. i believe you."
your body relaxed almost instantly. relief washed through you from head to toe. that could've ended very differently.
"here." he placed something small into your palm. it was a black device, no bigger than a car key. you frowned. "what is this?" - "a panic button." your eyes lifted to his.
"if you press it," he pointed to the single red button in the center. "it sends me your location immediately." you looked back down at it. "roman..." - "just listen."
there was no smile on his face anymore. "i know you said everything's fine." he paused. "but if you're not," his eyes softened. "if he ever comes back," your heartbeat stumbled. "press it."
you shook your head almost immediately. "that's sweet of you, but i don't need it. there's no sign of saint anywhere." - "take it anyway." his voice was calm. firm. "please." he gently closed your fingers around the device. "i'd rather come running for nothing than get here too late."
silence settled between you. then you rolled your eyes with a playful smile. "okay." roman let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. for the first time that morning, a real smile appeared on his face. small. tired. "good."
he picked up one of the coffees and handed it to you. "now drink this before it gets cold." you accepted it with a quiet smile. "thank you."
the rest of the morning unfolded like it always did. roman asked his usual questions. checked the windows. made sure the locks were working. looked around the apartment one last time. but somehow, those things had stopped being the center of his visits.
the two of you had grown so familiar with each other over the time, that your conversations always drifted somewhere else. sometimes you talked about work. sometimes about childhood memories. sometimes about absolutely nothing. the hours always seemed to pass too quickly.
eventually, roman got to his feet. "i should get going." you nodded. "i'm glad you stopped by." lifting your coffee with a small smile, you added, "and thanks for the coffee." he smiled back. "anytime."
he walked toward the door before looking over his shoulder one last time. "see you tomorrow." - "see you." a second later, the front door clicked shut behind him.
β
β±β
β
while you were getting ready for work, convinced you'd barely managed to escape roman's detective instincts, roman was still sitting in his car outside your apartment.
he hadn't started the engine. he couldn't let it go.
something wasn't right. he knew it. if saint had been in your apartment... why were you so calm? why were you smiling? why hadn't you looked afraid?
his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. none of it made sense. he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment. then he thought about your conversations. every time he'd asked a difficult question, you'd found a way around it. changed the subject. made him laugh. without realizing it, he'd let you.
because somewhere along the way, you'd become his weakness. his jaw tightened.
still, none of that explained why he hadn't found you lying dead on your apartment floor this morning. surrounded by blood. another message written across your wall.
his hand came up to his forehead. "no." he whispered it to himself. please, let me be wrong. because if every piece finally fit together, you weren't saint's next victim. you were the reason he kept coming back. you weren't in danger from him. you were sleeping with him. or worse.
you were falling in love with him.
β
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β
your entire workday passed in a blur. nothing seemed real. your mind kept drifting back to last night, replaying every moment until it almost felt like a dream.
every fear. every dark thought. every shadow you'd been carrying, saint had silenced them all. now, every thought of him made your heart beat a little faster.
you wanted to be his. it felt right. for the first time in a long time, you felt safe. and for the first time in your life, you felt truly seen.
and before you knew it, evening had arrived. you locked up your office and started the walk home. people passed you without a second glance. none of them knew they were walking past the woman who had fallen for the curse haunting their city. a faint smile tugged at your lips.
so for the first time in what felt like forever, you walked through the alley again. the alley you knew all too well.
your eyes searched every shadow. every rooftop. every corner. nothing. he wasn't there. and you didn't feel those eyes on you anymore. the ones you'd felt that first night.
still, there was something strangely comforting about walking this path again. because you weren't hoping you'd make it out safely. you were hoping you'd find him.
β
β±β
β
once you were home, you draped your coat over the back of a chair and let out a quiet sigh.
your eyes wandered through your apartment, lingering on the familiar walls. every corner seemed to hold a memory of what had happened here.
then you continued with your evening routine and made your way to the bathroom.
you slipped out of your clothes, leaving them in a small pile on the floor before lighting a stick of incense.
while the shower had been running long enough to reach the perfect temperature, you stepped beneath the warm stream of water.
slowly, you worked the lavender body wash over your skin, letting the water rinse away the weight of the day. after everything that had happened, a sense of calm finally settled over you.
then the bathroom door opened. instinctively, you covered yourself and looked over your shoulder.
there he was
his eyes drifted over your body before finding yours again. that look alone could've undressed you, if you hadn't already been standing there naked. "mind if i join?" you only smiled before turning back toward the water, continuing to wash the soap over your skin.
a moment later, you felt his breath against the back of your neck. "i've missed you, my love." his hands settled on your hips before gently turning you to face him. your eyes met the familiar crimson of his.
"i've been waiting to see you again." something softened in his expression. then he pulled you into a slow, lingering kiss. one that ended the same way it did yesterday - neither of you could ever seem to get enough of the other.
β
β±β
β
the next morning felt almost identical to the one before. saint was gone. and, once again, the sound of knocking pulled you from sleep.
roman
you slipped into an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants before making your way to the front door. when you opened it, he was already holding out your usual coffee. "morning." - "morning."
you accepted the cup with a sleepy smile before stepping aside to let him in. the apartment was quiet. almost painfully ordinary.
you talked while you got ready for work. about traffic. about the weather. about a coworker who had annoyed you the day before. nothing important.
roman answered when he had to. but most of the time, he watched. he noticed the faint bruise just beneath your jaw that your shirt hadn't quite managed to hide.
the way your eyes drifted toward your bedroom every now and then, almost unconsciously. the tiny smile that found your lips for no reason at all.
he hated it. because it confirmed everything he'd been trying to convince himself wasn't true. still, he never let it show.
"...sleep okay?" he asked while leaning casually against the kitchen counter. you nodded. "better than i have in weeks." his heart sank. "that's good." the words left his mouth automatically. they tasted wrong.
when it was time to leave, he picked up his jacket and walked toward the front door. his hand rested on the doorknob before he turned back to you. "one more thing." your eyes met his. "keep the panic button with you." you sighed softly. "roman..." - "promise me." there was no smile on his face. only concern.
you looked down for a moment before nodding. "...i promise." he finally relaxed. just a little.
instead of reaching for the doorknob again, he stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around you. the hug surprised you. still, you hugged him back. "if you ever need me," he said quietly, "i'm here." you smiled against his shoulder. "i know."
he let go first. "see you tomorrow." the door clicked shut behind him. and for a long moment, roman remained standing in the hallway outside your apartment. because every instinct told him he was already too late.
what neither of you knew, was that a pair of crimson eyes watched the two of you every single morning. he heard every conversation. every laugh. every lie.
he knew what roman knew. he knew what roman suspected. and as of today, he knew roman was certain.
saint had always been able to read people like open books. roman could've arrested him days ago. he had more than enough opportunities. but every time he looked at you, he chose you over the case.
and there was no safer place to hide, than behind the protection of the detective hunting him.
β
β±β
β
days turned into almost a week. without either of you noticing, it had become a routine. every morning began the same way. roman. coffee in his hands. a smile on his face. questions he already knew the answers to.
he still pretended everything was fine. he laughed at your jokes. told you about ridiculous paperwork. asked whether you'd been sleeping well. whether work had been busy. whether you'd eaten enough. never once asking the only question that truly mattered. instead he watched.
with every passing day, the truth became more obvious. and with every passing day, something inside roman broke a little more.
your afternoons disappeared into work. nothing remarkable ever happened. meetings. emails. phone calls. faces you barely remembered by the time you got home. your days no longer felt like they were leading somewhere. they were simply the hours you had to survive, until evening came.
until him
saint always arrived after dark. sometimes he climbed through your bedroom window. sometimes he was already waiting inside when you unlocked the apartment. as though he'd always belonged there.
some nights, he brought you deep red roses. so many that you eventually had to clear an entire shelf just to make room for them. other nights, you found handwritten letters resting on your kitchen table before he'd even spoken a word.
his handwriting looked centuries old. every letter felt less like ink on paper and more like something carved into stone.
once, he placed an antique ring into your palm. another time, a delicate silver necklace. he never explained where they came from. you never asked.
he remembered everything. the way you liked your tea. the incense you reached for after difficult days. how you always curled against him in your sleep. he learned every quiet habit you didn't even know you had. and before long, he was taking care of you as though it had always been his place to do so.
without realizing it, you'd stopped checking every shadow before unlocking your apartment. stopped reaching for roman's gun. stopped wondering if tonight would be the night saint finally disappeared.
because every time it threatened to crush you, saint was there. holding you. quietly reminding you that you weren't alone anymore.
you had accepted that loving him came with a price. a terrible one. but somehow, it had begun to feel worth paying. that was the dangerous part.
not the murders. not the lies. not even the detective who was slowly putting the pieces together. the dangerous part was that the three of you had settled into a life
that couldn't possibly last.
β
β±β
β
it was a night like any other. rain washed over the city in slow, steady sheets. most of the buildings had already disappeared into the darkness as roman drove his usual route through the streets.
breaking up fights. pulling over drunk drivers. dealing with the kind of crime that kept the city awake after midnight.
the radio hummed quietly in the background while his fingertips tapped absentmindedly against the steering wheel. the windshield wipers swept across the glass in a steady rhythm.
red. the traffic light ahead forced him to stop. it was late. the intersection was almost empty.
then he heard it. a motorcycle. low. loud. it rolled to a stop in the lane beside him. roman didn't look. not at first. until he felt it. someone was watching him. his heartbeat stumbled. slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned his head. his breath caught. there he was.
black boots. black jeans. a black leather vest, leaving his arms and chest exposed beneath the streetlights. black lace gloves wrapped around his hands. long acrylic nails.
without warning, the scratches scattered across your skin flashed through roman's mind.
his grip around the steering wheel tightened. his gaze drifted higher. long blond hair rested over broad shoulders. sharp features. a face that looked almost sculpted from marble. beautiful. terrifying. then his eyes met them. crimson. there wasn't a single doubt left.
SAINT
for a split second, roman's gaze dropped to the handgun resting on the passenger seat. then back to him. saint hadn't moved. not even slightly.
only the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth betrayed that he'd noticed. he knew. he knew roman had figured it out. he knew roman could end this right here. he also knew that he wouldn't.
because saint had spent weeks watching the two of you. he'd heard every conversation through open windows. watched every goodbye from distant rooftops. he knew exactly what roman had become. not just the detective assigned to your case. your protector. and that had become roman's greatest weakness.
arresting saint would mean losing you. or worse. becoming the man who broke your heart all over again. roman couldn't bear the thought. his fingers never left the steering wheel. the gun remained untouched.
the traffic light turned green. for one last second, neither of them moved. then saint looked away. his motorcycle disappeared into the rain with a deafening roar. roman watched him turn at the next intersection. the road that led straight to your apartment. he knew exactly where saint was going. and he let him go.
the realization hurt more than anything else. he wasn't losing to saint. he was losing to himself.
β
β±β
β
you were sitting on the couch when you felt him before you ever saw him. that familiar scent. dark. bittersweet. the kind that wrapped itself around you until nothing else seemed to matter.
you smiled before you even turned around. "when are you finally gonna learn some manners and use the front door like a normal person?" a quiet laugh escaped you.
he was standing behind the couch, absentmindedly straightening one of the books in your shelf before his eyes found yours. for a brief moment, he considered telling you about roman. about the traffic light. about the fact that the detective knew. he kept it to himself.
"the day i'm no longer the city's most wanted man." you shook your head, smiling, and patted the empty spot beside you. "come here." he didn't hesitate. the cushion dipped beneath his weight as he sat down.
his hand immediately found your cheek. warm. gentle. he pulled you toward him, pressing his lips against yours. the kiss felt just as it always did. like every anxious thought inside your mind had suddenly gone quiet.
your fingers slipped into the fabric of his vest, holding onto him as though he might disappear if you let go. "i missed you." he leaned in a little closer, his forehead almost touching yours. "did you?" his voice was barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your lips.
you smiled, biting softly at your lower lip before tugging him down with you. the television continued playing somewhere in the background. neither of you paid it any attention anymore. "very much." you murmured before kissing him again.
his hands wandered slowly across your waist, careful and familiar. every touch felt effortless. as though he'd memorized you long ago.
you shifted farther back against the couch to make room for him, your body pressing closer to his without a second thought.
neither of you noticed the small black device that had disappeared beneath one of the cushions earlier that day. your elbow sank into the pillow. a soft click. so quiet that neither of you heard it. but somewhere else in the city a panic alert lit up.
β
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β
roman was sitting in his patrol car, sorting through reports while dispatch crackled quietly through the radio. another statement. another arrest. another night. then his phone vibrated.
the panic alert
his eyes dropped to the screen. your name. your address. everything inside him went cold. without thinking, he grabbed the radio. "dispatch. panic activation. i'm responding."
the paperwork scattered across the passenger seat as he threw the car into gear. blue lights flooded the rain-soaked streets. the tires screamed against the pavement.
his heartbeat pounded louder than the siren. he already knew who was inside your apartment.
SAINT
he'd seen it coming from the very beginning. a story like yours was never meant to end peacefully.
his jaw locked. this was it. the panic button existed for one reason. you were in danger. nothing else mattered. not the investigation. not the consequences. not even you hating him afterward.
he wasn't losing you tonight.
his foot pressed harder onto the accelerator. the city blurred past in streaks of blue and red. every second felt like another chance for saint to disappear. not this time. not again.
β
β±β
β
his lips never really left yours anymore. they lingered. slow. patient. as though he had all the time in the world.
your fingers disappeared into his hair, gently combing through the soft strands as he smiled against your mouth. "what?" you whispered. he shook his head. "nothing." - "you're staring." - "i know." you laughed quietly. "you're weird." - "only for you."
another kiss. longer this time. your body melted against his without thinking, your legs tangled with his as the rain tapped softly against the windows. his hand rested against your waist, drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your shirt.
you closed your eyes. this... this had become home. not your apartment. not the city. him.
you had stopped wondering how many people would call this wrong. stopped asking yourself whether tomorrow would punish you for today. all that existed anymore, was this couch. his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. the warmth of his skin. the smell of rain clinging to his clothes.
you smiled into another kiss. "what?" he smiled back. "nothing." - "you're doing it again." - "doing what?" - "looking at me like that." - "like what?" - "...like i'm yours." his expression softened. "you are."
your heart stumbled. you should've argued. you should've reminded him how impossible that sentence was. instead you kissed him again. harder this time. his hand slid into your hair. your forehead rested against his. neither of you noticed how quiet the apartment had become. until -
*bang*
the front door exploded inward. wood splintered across the floor. the sound echoed through the apartment like thunder. your entire body jerked. your eyes flew open.
roman
he stood in the destroyed doorway. rain dripped from his uniform. his chest rose and fell so violently it almost hurt to watch. his pistol was already raised. aimed directly at saint. "don't move!"
your heart stopped. "roman-" your voice barely existed. you turned instinctively toward saint. he never looked at you. not once. his crimson eyes never left roman's. and in that single second, everything slowed.
roman's finger tightened around the trigger. saint's arm disappeared behind his back. you didn't understand why. not yet. you reached for him.
"saint-" the gunshot shattered the silence. so loud, that the world disappeared with it. you screamed. or maybe you didn't. you couldn't tell.
your eyes slammed shut on instinct. there was another sound. something heavy striking the floor. then... nothing. silence. a horrible, unnatural silence. your ears rang. your breathing came in broken gasps.
slowly, terrified, you opened your eyes. saint was still lying on top of you. his weight rested against your chest. his forehead was still touching yours. for one impossible second you waited. surely he was about to smile. to tease you. to kiss you again.
"...saint?" nothing. then his body suddenly became heavier. not because he moved. because he didn't. his forehead slipped away from yours. his face fell against your neck. his arm, which had instinctively wrapped itself around your waist only seconds ago, lost all strength. it slowly slid from your body until it hit the couch beside you.
"...saint?" your voice barely existed. carefully, almost afraid of the answer, you cupped his face. his skin was still warm. "hey." you let out a quiet laugh. small. desperate. "this isn't funny."
nothing
"...saint." you lifted his face just enough to look at him. his crimson eyes were still open. the same eyes that had terrified an entire city, that had watched you as though you were the only thing worth looking at, weren't looking at you anymore. they weren't looking at anything.
a thin trail of blood escaped from the side of his head. it ran across his temple, over his cheek, before dripping onto your shoulder. warm. you stared at it. unable to breathe.
"no." you wrapped both arms around him immediately. holding him tighter. as though refusing to let death take him. "no, no, no..."
his blood spread across your shirt. your chest. your hands. you didn't care. you buried your face against his neck. "look at me." your voice cracked. "saint..." you shook him gently. nothing. a little harder. "look at me." nothing. harder. "please."
his head only rolled weakly with every movement. lifeless. his blond hair fell across his face. your trembling fingers brushed it away. you kissed his forehead. his cheek. his lips. they were already changing.
"please don't leave me." your tears disappeared into his hair. mixed with the blood covering both of you.
he'd promised he'd always come back. he promised. you waited. one second. two. three.
for him to laugh. for him to tell you he'd scared you. for him to pull you into another kiss. he never did.
a broken sound escaped your throat. not quite a sob. not quite a scream. something much worse. your entire body trembled as you held him against your chest, refusing to let him go. if you held him tightly enough, maybe his heart would start beating again. maybe this wasn't real. maybe... your eyes slowly lifted.
roman
he still stood in the doorway. his gun slipped from his hand. it struck the floor with a hollow clatter. only then did you notice it.
the dagger. saint's dagger. deep crimson gemstones decorating its hilt. you'd seen it before. you'd watched him place it on your bedside table before he'd leaned back over you. before his hand had gently cupped your jaw. before he'd stolen your attention with another kiss.
now it was buried deep inside roman's throat.
blood poured over the front of his uniform. his hand instinctively reached for the handle. he looked at you. only you.
his lips parted. he tried to speak. maybe your name. maybe he wanted to apologize. maybe he wanted to tell you he was sorry. you would never know.
all that escaped him was blood. his knees buckled. he collapsed into the shattered doorway. his head struck the broken wood beneath him. then...
nothing. silence. only the rain remained.
you looked from saint to roman, then back again. again. again. as though looking often enough would somehow change reality. it didn't.
the apartment smelled of rain. gunpowder and blood. so much blood.
saint's blood covered your arms. your chest. your hands. his head was still resting against your heart. exactly where it had been only seconds earlier. except now there was no heartbeat answering yours.
you closed your eyes. held him even tighter and waited. for a breath that never came.
β
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β
they spent months searching for saint.
in the end, he was found exactly where he'd always wanted to be. in your arms.
Three weeks since that night in his car. Three weeks of you being different in a way people around you were starting to notice. You'd been less outspoken β which already said a lot. You'd been complaining less, texting the group chat less and less, and most of all, any time Ally mentioned him, you went impossibly quiet. Before, you always had something sharp to say. He's so stupid. Do you really put up with that? Oh, please, he acts like he's fourteen. Now Ally would be telling you and Cathy about his dismissals, the way his mood would shift without warning, and you just nodded and let Cathy do the talking.
"What's wrong with you?" Cathy asked one movie night after Ally left β to be with Hollis. "She handed you a whole meal to trash that motherfucker and you just sat there."
"I don't know," you shrugged, sipping your Coke. "Would it even make a difference? It's their business, after all."
It wasn't. You hated that he was still treating her poorly even after what he'd done. Wasn't he supposed to be trying to make up for his mistake? But if anything, that night didn't seem to have cost him a thing.
You'd avoided every possible chance to see him. Until now. It was Ally's birthday, and of course β of course β her perfect, loving boyfriend was throwing her a party. To make matters worse, you ran late and had to go alone, since Cathy had left earlier with her boyfriend. On the way, you stopped at a store near his house to buy drinks. You bought as much as you could carry. One thing you were certain of: you needed to be properly drunk to get through the night.
"Hey, ain't you Ally's friend?" A voice came from behind you in line. You turned β a boy, tall, long dark hair, dark smudges ringing his eyes, pretty as fuck. You frowned; he was familiar, but you couldn't quite place him.
"Yeah, that'd be me," you said, still wary.
"You're going to her party, right? Me too. I'm Roman." He smiled β a friendly, easy smile. So pretty.
"Yeah, whoa, what are the chances," you laughed, a little awkward.
"You driving?"
"No, Hollis' house is close enough," you said, still smiling too stiffly.
"In that case, I can drive you."
You weren't about to say no. You ended up in his car β some sports car, drenched in cologne like he'd sprayed it directly onto the seats, or maybe it was just him. Either way, nauseating and pleasing all at once. He was easy to talk to, went on mostly about how he recognized you from somewhere, something about a party, and you prayed desperately it wasn't the party you were thinking of.
You arrived together to a house already packed with people. Familiar faces everywhere β Ally's friends, probably some of Hollis'. You were just beginning to scan the room for your people when you felt a hand settle on your lower back.
"Let's put these in the kitchen, come on," Roman said, and you let him lead you.
You played clueless, pretending you hadn't been to Hollis' house plenty of times before. To your surprise, they were all in the kitchen: Ally, Cathy, her boyfriend, and, of course, Hollis. The room went briefly quiet before the round of greetings. Your girls complained about how long you'd taken; Roman dapped Hollis and nodded to Cathy's boyfriend; and then there was that strange half-second where you almost moved to greet Hollis and caught yourself. His gaze passed over you β brief, but heavy enough that you had to look away.
"Are you two animals or something?" Ally said, and her noticing made your face burn.
"What?" you played dumb.
She elbowed Hollis in the stomach. "Can you two at least say hello to each other?"
He chuckled; easy, unbothered; and you kept staring, trying to smooth the panic off your face. Then you caught yourself. "Oh my God, he won't die because I didn't save a special hello for him. But fine. Hello, Hollis."
You looked at him with flat annoyance, gave a small wave. He laughed again. Light. Knowing. Infuriatingly knowing. "Long time no see, y/n."
You ignored him, slipping past him and Ally toward the balcony with the bottles. And then β stupidly, or maybe it wasn't an accident at all β you caught your foot on his boots. His hand shot out fast, steadying you by the elbows. Your instinct was to shove him off, and you almost did β your hand was already pressed flat to his stomach β but you caught yourself mid-motion. For a half second you felt his muscles tighten under your fingertips before you yanked your hand back.
"Watch out," he said, low.
You didn't answer. Just kept moving. Face burning, hoping no one noticed how strange that was. How strange you felt. How horrible. You pulled yourself a shot of vodka. Then turned it into two, back to back.
"Hey, easy," came Roman's voice from behind you, that slow, deliberate pitch to it, like he pulled every word out at his own pace. "Vodka's not exactly my drink of choice, but I'll join you."
He held out a small glass and you poured him a shot. "Yeah? And what is your drink of choice?"
"Anything sweet," he said, then turned the glass up.
You grinned at that. "Pussy." He grinned back. A quiet beat of eye contact before you were both interrupted.
"Hey man, I really need to talk to you about thisβ" Hollis' voice, unmistakable. His hand landing on Roman's shoulder, pulling him away from you like it was nothing.
You watched. Like he'd calculated it. Like even that was designed to get under your skin.
β
Hours later, you'd had as much to drink as you could manage, and most of your people were spread across Hollis' couch. You were perched on the armrest, right beside Roman β not because you'd planned anything, but because somewhere between his third drink and yours you'd fallen into a real conversation about his days as a tattoo artist, and he'd finally slipped free from Hollis long enough to find you in the corner of the room.
Hollis, on the other hand, was in the armchair across the room, Ally curled over one of his knees, and you couldn't help but notice the way his hand moved absently along her thigh β those long fingers loaded with rings, the knuckles catching the light. A detail you registered without meaning to. He was deep in conversation, all the way across the room, and yet his eyes kept finding you, steady and deliberate, like he was trying to read your lips, tracking every word you exchanged with his friend.
At some point it became suffocating. You excused yourself from Roman and slipped upstairs to the bathroom. The one you knew. The one you'd used back when you used to come here for an entirely different reason.
You weren't sure how long you stood there staring at your reflection, replaying the weight of Hollis' eyes on you. Worse, replaying his eyes on you while his hands were on your best friend. The way he'd leaned in to whisper something in her ear, making her laugh, while his gaze stayed fixed across the room β on you. And viscerally worst of all was the fact that you'd been collecting all of it. Cataloguing every detail like you were building a case in your chest, piecing something together that you didn't want to name.
The knock pulled you back. "You shouldn't be up here," came his voice. "I think I made it clear the guest bathroom is downstairsβ"
He went quiet when he opened the door and he found you there. His eyes didn't widen the way someone's do when they're caught off guard. Instead, he smiled β amused.
"I'm heading downstairs," you said, and didn't move. He was filling the doorway.
"I noticed you disappeared, so I figured you got tired of playing the supportive friend," he said, stepping inside. The door closed behind him.
"Only when you get tired of playing the loving boyfriend." You held his gaze.
"Is that what you want?" He raised his eyebrows. "For me to break your friend's heart?"
The bathroom was spacious, but not spacious enough with him in it. He leaned against the door, carefree in a way that made you more nervous.
"That's not what I meant."
"And yet." He tilted his head, cynical, and it landed harder than it should have, because you knew he wasn't entirely wrong β you had indulged in something you had no claim to, and you couldn't fault him for breaking her heart when you'd been helping him do it.Β
"Yeah, fine, Hollis. You got me. Congrats." You stepped forward and reached for the door handle beside him. He didn't move. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw as he looked down at you.
"You trying to get back at me through Roman?" he asked. You frowned immediately.
"The fuck?"
"Don't play dumb. Throwing yourself at him like that."
"What does that even mean?" you exhaled in disbelief.
"Yeah, I got with your friend, so you get with mine. That your game?"
"Oh my God, you're unbelievable." You laughed, genuinely this time. You let go of the door handle, looked away, because you couldn't take him seriously enough to hold eye contact.
"Not my business." He shrugged. "Thing is, I'd have to stay well clear of you. I'm not enough of a piece of shit to mess around with my friend's girl."
That was enough. You felt the prickling at the back of your neck, the irritation crawling over your face. You shoved him, hard, driving him back against the door. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You kept pushing at his chest. "I told you to stay away from me after that night. I told you not to talk to me, not to evenβ"
He caught your wrists. "Fine, enough, enough." You kept fighting his grip, your whole face burning, and when you finally went still it was only because your arms gave out β not because the fury did, especially not with him watching you like that, like you were something that entertained him. "You done?"
You yanked your wrists free. Looked at the door. "Could you justβ¦" A breath. "Let me out?"
"Sure." He stepped aside. The door was right there and you were already reaching for the handle whenβ
"Holli? Is that you?"
Ally.
His hand covered your mouth before you could make a sound. His other arm pressed the door shut. "Yeah?" he answered, voice even.
His palm covered half your face, and whether on purpose or not, he pulled you flush against his chest.Β
"Everything okay?" she asked, tentative. "You just disappeared from the living room."
"Course, baby," he said. "I'm just⦠taking a piss."
You almost commented on how disgusting that was. Instead you drove an elbow into his stomach and he grunted. "What was that?"Β
"Nothing." He turned you against his arm, freeing your mouth, cupping your face instead, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. You glared, daring. "Justβ can you give me a minute, baby?"Β
"Oh." She sounded embarrassed. "Sorry. I'll be downstairs. I need to find y/n anyway, she's been so weird tonight."
When she said your name, he looked at you with a slow, private grin. Like that pleased him. "She's always weird. Honestly, I don't know why you keep her around."
Your mouth fell open, and like he'd predicted your move exactly, his hand was back over your lips, his body pinning you harder to the door.Β It had to be on purpose.
"Don't say it like that," Ally said softly, that small, sweet voice she probably saved just for him, while he held you against the door with open amusement, and it did something ugly and warm low in your stomach.Β
You bit his hand. Hard. He let out a low, pained sound. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute." You were half-smiling now, despite yourself. "I just... had a bit too much to drink. Don't worry."
"'Kβ¦" she said. Then silence. Silence that stretched, and for some reason he didn't let go.
Then, slowly, his palm left your mouth. Your teeth released him. But his hand stayed, sliding to your jaw. His thumb moved across your face β your chin, your lower lip β drawing a slow line along it until your lips parted. He pressed down gently, and it was like he had you held there by some pull you hadn't even realized. He eased your mouth open, his thumb pressing past your lips, sinking deeper, and as if it were your only instinct, your lips closed around him. You sucked slowly, eyes locked on his. His own lips parted as he watched, like it affected him too.
He withdrew slowly, his hand sliding down to your throat, holding you steady. Maybe it was the drinking, but he seemed to move in slow motion, and you watched as he leaned down and brought his face close to yours with a particular care. He stopped just millimeters from your mouth. You weren't sure if you closed your eyes and simply surrendered, or kept them open just to keep watch.
"Be good," he said. And in the same breath that it irritated you, it worked something open in you β before his lips covered yours.
It settled you instantly. Your eyes fell shut, your body melting into it, chin lifting to feel more of him, mouth opening to let him in. He tasted like beer, warm against your tongue, and you wanted him frantic, careless, but he stayed maddeningly slow, lips parting and closing over yours in a quiet, unhurried rhythm, before breaking away all at once.Β
He stayed close, and when you tried to lean in for more, the hand at your throat kept you where you were. You wanted to beg. You didn't. You pressed your lips together and instead let your hands travel down his body β chest, stomach, waistband β and when you began to palm his length through his jeans, he watched you do it without blinking. He was already half-hard, and when you squeezed, he moaned low in his throat. He kissed you again, his other hand sliding down your body, under your shirt, cupping your tits and squeezing. You sighed against his mouth.
You had his belt undone fast, jeans and boxers shoved down just enough to wrap your hand fully around him. You'd rather die than admit it, but you loved the size of him β loved that your hand couldn't close all the way around, loved the weight of him, thick and heavy against your palm, the head already slick. It made your mouth water. Made you soaked.Β
He broke the kiss to look down at your hand working him. "Ain't you a little slut?" He was smiling, but his voice had gone thin. You smiled back, played innocent while you squeezed and he swore at you. Like you were still competing, he tightened his grip on your throat, and you slapped his chest in return, and he pressed himself further into you.
"You fucking pussy," you said against his mouth. He smiled. "You think because you'reβ"
He kissed you β hard, tongue first, no warning, devouring and savoring you at once. You moaned into it and nearly cried out when he lifted you clean off the ground, arms hooked under your thighs. You let go of him to grab his shoulders instead.Β
"Can't stop talking, can you?" he said.
His hands slid up under your skirt, fingers pressing against you through your panties, slow and deliberate, dragging over the soaked fabric until you had to bite down on the needy little sound climbing your throat. "Big mouth for someone soaking wet for me."Β
"Big mouth for someone who just won't fuck me already."
He exhaled. Then the pressure of his fingers was gone, instead his hand pulled your panties aside, and you felt the blunt, swollen head of him line up against you. You bit back another moan as he pushed in β all at once, deep, stretching you around him in one slow, brutal slide.Β
"Fuck, I hate you," you whimpered, face buried in his neck, arms locking around him, clenching down instinctively.Β
"How the fuck are you this tight," he breathed against your ear, voice wrecked.Β
He held you steady a moment before he started moving β lifting and lowering you on him, using your body like it was made to be handled this way. The thought alone shorted something out in your brain. Something so twisted in the collision of your hatred and want tangled so tightly you couldn't tell which one was making your skin burn.Β
Both of you fought your sounds as hard as you could, even as every thrust made you want to cry out. And like punishment for every wrong thing you'd done, a knock came at the door.Β
One of Hollis' hands immediately left your body. He closed it around the door handle in a grip like iron. Your whole body locked up. You pulled back to look at him, wide-eyed. "It's occupied. Bathroom's downstairs."
"You're still up here, baby?" Ally. Again. Hollis pinned you with a look β half glare, half silent order to shut the fuck up.Β
"Yeah," he said, steadying his voice.
"What's going on? Are you feeling sick?" Her voice was so genuinely worried it settled in you like lead.
And then, like he really was that much of a devil, he started moving again β slow, deliberate thrusts, your back to the door, your eyes wide, mouth clamped shut.Β
"Kind of," he said, with the faint trace of a grin. "I think I really overdid it tonight."
"Oh," she said, softly. "Do you need help? I can⦠I can take care of you."
The handle turned. He tightened his grip, forcing it still. Your body clenched around him on instinct and he mouthed a silent curse at the ceiling. "No, noβ" A hard thrust punished you for it, deep enough to steal the air from your lungs, and you clapped a hand over your own mouth before anything could escape.Β
"You sure?" she asked. "I feel bad being down there having fun while you're up here alone."
"Princess, don't miss your own party for me," he said, voice fraying at the edges as he kept moving, unhurried, relentless. "I'll get better soon, promise."Β
A muffled hum through the door. He kept his pace, deep and even, and you dug your nails into his shoulders to keep quiet.Β
"It's my birthday, Holli," she said. she said, and her voice cracked β just a little. Just enough to make you feel sick.Β
You felt the weight shift against the door β she was leaning on it, unknowingly resting against the same wood where her boyfriend had you split open around him.Β
"Jesus..." A beat, and his patience thinned out, sharp all at once. "What am I supposed to do if I'm not feeling well? Just go enjoy your party."
Silence on the other side. Longer than it should have been. "...Okay. Sorry." Small. Like she was used to swallowing that tone from him and apologizing for the inconvenience of asking. Then, softer, like the edge in his voice hadn't touched her the way it touched you: "I'll be down there.β A pause βI love you."
God. You weren't sure if it was the guilt or the exact angle of him pressing into that spot low in your belly, but something thick and heavy rolled through you all at once. You buried your face in his shoulder. "Love you too, babe." His voice, flat, certain, saying it to her while balls deep inside you. You bit down into his skin, hard enough to leave a mark.Β
It landed in you worse than anything else that night. She'd just been shrugged off, half-scolded through a door, and she still gave him that. His hand found your breast anyway, squeezing like he needed somewhere to put everything he wasn't allowed to say out loud, and you hated that some ugly, quiet part of you felt something close to relief β that whatever this thinning patience was, it wasn't only reserved for you.
When the silence from the other side held long enough, you found your rhythm again. Still muffling everything. Still helplessly asking for more.
Eventually he set you down, slow, and pulled out of you. Still handling you with ease, he turned you toward the sink, pushed you forward until you bent over the counter, palms flat on the cold marble, your back already arching toward him on instinct.Β
"How do you feel?" He watched you through the mirror, fingers dragging through your folds, spreading the slick mess of you, and then he pushed back inside β rough enough that your mouth fell open silently. "Look at yourself, baby."Β
One hand gripped your hip. The other came up to your chin, tilting your face toward the mirror. He began to move again β hard, deep, your body jolting forward with every stroke.
"Don't call me that," you managed between moans.Β
"What? Baby?" He was watching you in the mirror too, eyes gone dark. "What should I call you then? Slut?"
His fingers found your mouth β two of them, pressing past your lips, pulling them open. Pathetically, you let them in. You grabbed his forearm, fighting the sounds crawling up your throat. He smiled.Β
"Yeah. There she is. My pretty little slut."
You wished you could answer that. Wished you could hold yourself together. But he kept driving into you, kept dragging heat through your whole body, kept pulling arousal out of you like he owned the key to it. So you just nodded, mouth working around his fingers, dumb and overwhelmed.
His hand left your hip and found your clit, working it in perfect sync with his cock. It was only a matter of time. Your whole body started to shake and you bit down on his fingers still in your mouth as the first wave broke through you. You clenched around him so tight he groaned in your ear, face dropping to your hair, nose pressed to it like he was breathing you in as he fucked you through it.
While you were still coming down, he pulled out. Your legs barely held you, and a single low word from him had you sinking to your knees without thinking. You took his cock in your hand, head swimming, and stroked him fast while your tongue worked over the tip β best way you could β until he came across your lips, your chin, your cheek, the flat of your tongue. Thick and warm; you could feel it drip down your chin.
"God," he breathed, looking down at you like you'd done something miraculous.
It took a moment to register. To get back to your senses. "Why the fuck did youβ" You got to your feet, still a little unsteady, still feeling his absence inside you, though you'd rather have died than say so. "On my face."
And in your mouth too. You could taste him. You licked your lips clean without meaning to, and when you looked up he was watching with quiet amusement.
"This is entirely on you. I just told you to get on your knees," he said. You glared. "Hold on."
He reached for a tissue. You watched him in silence as he held your face still and cleaned you up, careful about it, thorough. He was probably focused on what he was doing β but his eyes kept drifting over your whole face, slow and unhurried, and it made you feel exposed in a way you hadn't expected. Couldn't prepare for.
When he was done, he didn't let go. He kept looking. Hand still cradling your face. And for some reason, you kept looking back.
"You should⦠go," you said first. You closed your fingers around his wrist, a quiet suggestion. He didn't move.
"Yeah," he said, in no rush. "You okay?"
You nodded. Held his gaze. A long beat before he finally let you go. You thought about saying something β something cutting, something to reclaim the distance. You couldn't. Because this time it wasn't a desperate mistake in a back alley. You'd wanted it. You'd done it while your best friend stood on the other side of a door and told him she loved him.
Hollis left, and the sound of the door pulling shut behind him dropped the full weight of it onto your chest. You couldn't look at yourself in the mirror now. Funny β minutes ago, while he was fucking you, you'd had no trouble at all.
Leaving that bathroom felt like one of those dreams where you're naked in front of the whole school. Like every person you passed knew exactly what kind of person you were. And when you got back to the living room and Ally met you with that bright, unbothered smile, you wanted to turn yourself inside out. She lifted herself from Hollis' lap, came straight to you and hugged you sideways, said she'd been worried you'd slipped out without saying goodbye.
Cathy, on the other hand, watched you like something was visibly wrong and she was the only one sharp enough to see it. Hollis you didn't look at. Not once, for the rest of the night.
You sang happy birthday to Ally. You all gathered as the other guests filtered out, until only a small handful of people remained. Hollis you still didn't look at.
It was Roman who offered to drive you home when you said you were leaving. He waited while you got your things, and that was when you glanced at Hollis again β brief, less than a second β and there was no grin on his face. No amusement. Just his eyes on you, unreadable.
"You're seriously my lifesaver tonight," you said to Roman, your hand grazing his arm lightly.
And then, as though you were committed to running yourself all the way into the ground, you ended up in his apartment. Naked in his sheets, hopelessly replaying Hollis in that bathroom. Not because Roman hadn't been good to you β but because even so, something was missing, some particular charge that hadn't been there, and for once that thought didn't spiral into self-loathing. Didn't become about what a terrible friend you were. It became something simpler, and somehow worse: that if the chance came again, you would do it. Without question. You would do it all over again.
in the same universe as across and pretty much a part two, but this can likely be read without it
tags: collegeboy!hollis, younger reader (18+ tho just to clarify), movie date, public sex, exhibitionism, oral (m receiving), p in v, spanking, punishments, bdsm dynamics, creampies, reader squirts for the first time lolz, very pwp
w/c: 1.8k
a/n: sooo this is filth yay. anons asked for more overly freaked out fics + more of across hollis so i am here to deliver as usual no screenshotting/talking about this fic outside of tumblr thank You
You always felt that the back of the movie theater was the best. You had the whole screen on display, nobodyβs head covering it, and it was usually deserted.
You stood at the concessions, putting butter into your popcorn. Hollis was still at the register, ordering an Icee.
βYou ready to go? Itβs about to start.β He walked up to you after.
βI was waiting for you. Youβre quite indecisive with your drink choices, you know. Iβve noticed that.β
βIβm indecisive with a lot of things.β
Squinting to see the seat numbers in the dark, you followed Hollis up the stairs of the theater. There werenβt too many people around for the movie you were seeing, likely because of how late it was at.
All the way in the back, just a little left from the middle. You had the perfect seats. He sat down and you followed suit.
Luckily, the commercials were almost over. Hollis, on another movie date of yours, told you how much he hated sitting through them and just wanted the movie to start. You told him how you didnβt mind them, but usually ended up eating half of your popcorn during them. Which is what happened this time as well.
When the lights dimmed more and the movie started, you realized nobody was in the back row this time.
You looked over at Hollis. His eyes were glued to the screen. This particular movie was his choice, after all. A stupid idea ran through your head. You bit your lip and put your hand on his thigh.
His eyes met yours immediately. You couldnβt see him the best in the dark, but the screen gave off enough light for him to see your mischievous expression.Β
He let out air from his nose, smiling and looking back at the screen. Your hands traveled closer to his crotch. He didnβt seem to mind your touch at all. You heard his breath hitch when you moved your body towards him and began to touch him through his pants.
Something about the risk of getting caught made you want to do it more and more. If any of the people in the theater currently turned around, theyβd be able to see you both like this.
You looked up at Hollis. He was looking down at you with his lips parted. You put your finger to your mouth, quietly shushing him before beginning to unzip his fly.
You heard him let out a breathy laugh, failing to hold it back at how bold you were being. You grabbed his cock right out of his underwear and put your mouth on it.Β
His big hand rested on your lower back as you leaned over the seats. His cock quickly hardened in your mouth. You circled your tongue around his tip. You held back your gag reflex as much as you could sinking down, fitting more of him inside of your throat. Your fingers stroked what couldnβt fit.Β
The tips of his fingers dipped into your shorts just a bit. He played with the material of your thong. He hissed above you when you sucked down hard. βGet up here.βΒ
You hummed in confusion, not hearing or understanding what he said at first. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently pulled you off. βSit on me.β He spoke in a harsh whisper.
You obeyed him and moved to straddle him on the seat. He fiddled with the buttons of your shorts, too horny to properly unbutton them. βTake these off.β
You looked at him, unsure of stripping naked.Β It would be pretty hard to cover yourself quickly if someone caught the two of you.
He raised his eyebrows. βYouβll suck me off, but this is too far?β He ran his hands up your shirt. βCome on, baby.β
With your face red as ever, you fully unbuttoned your shorts and took them off in front of him. You wore his favorite color thong today. His fingers reached out and caressed your crotch through the fabric.
You straddled him once more and put the fabric to the side, angling his hard cock below. You squeezed your mouth shut as you sank down. It felt even better than usual.Β
βSucking my dick and now this. I didnβt even have to ask much. You did it all by yourself.β He whispered near your ear. You made a sound that was louder than you anticipated and covered your mouth at the speed of light. You heard a low chuckle in your ear that went straight to your crotch. βCanβt be loud. Donβt want people to hearβ¦unless you do. You want them to hear you?β
You whimpered and your legs shook. You were slamming yourself down at a fast pace, eager to cum. It made a wet sound that you hope wasnβt echoing off the theater walls.
His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you down faster. He seemed eager as well.
You moved your hips in circles. βPlease cum insideβ¦I want itβ¦β
βYeah? Want my cum in you?β
βYes, cum in me. Please, pleaseββ
Trying to keep the sounds down to a minimum, you guys breathed heavily into each other's ears as you reached climax. You squeezed down hard around him, jolting in pleasure. He bit down on your neck as ropes of white painted your walls.
ΛΛΛ κ° β‘ κ± ΛΛΛ
βOw!β
Hollisβ hand hit your asscheek hard, leaving a red mark. He had you over his knee on the bed.
βRemember, count them or I start over. You have to be punished,β Spank. βfor being so shameless. You couldnβt even wait until we were home.β
βAhh! One.βΒ
After the fifteenth spank, it started feeling oddly good to be punished by him. You bit your lip in between spanks, anticipating each one.Β
He looked over at your face, his eyes narrowing. His fingers went under your ass and swiped across your naked lower half. βYouβre wetβ¦this is supposed to be a punishment, you know. Wow, my pants are soaked.β You could hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. Spank.Β
ββm sorryβ¦ah! Sixteen..β
He rubbed the red spot on your cheek. βThink youβve been punished enough?β
You looked up at him through your eyelashes. βYes.β
βMm, I think you still need to be punished more. Not like this, though. Get up.β He tapped your thighs. You sat on the bed. He crouched down and got his box of toys out, taking out a tie. βPut your hands by the headboard.β
You got on your knees on the bed and put your hands together. He tied them up to the headboard.Β
You felt his hand spread your cheek apart. He got a good look at your ass and pussy. βSo pretty, baby. Listen. You canβt cum unless I say so.β He leaned over your body and grabbed your chin to look at him. βOkay?β
βOkay.βΒ
He smiled, the warm smile he always had no matter the situation. It looked so innocent compared to the actual situation you were in.Β
You heard the unzipping of his pants behind you. You keened in pleasure when he entered you, filling you up completely all at once. Your back arched when he started focusing on the spot that always made your body weak.
In that moment, you felt the ball of the vibrator he usually used on you right on your clit. You didnβt know when he got that out, but he was moving inside and rubbing it in circles on the outside.
You felt yourself get close already. βMmnβ¦noββ
βNo? No what?β
ββs too much. Iβll cum.β
Hearing that, Hollis turned the vibrator up a setting. You shrieked and subconsciously ran away from it, moving your body away from it. He grabbed your waist, pushing you back onto the sensation while still fucking you deep.Β
You groaned through bitten lips, your eyes rolling back and your lower half shaking.
βItβs a punishment for a reason, honey. You canβt handle it? Hmm?β He said, mocking sympathy.Β
βI canβt hold it back. Can I cum?β
βNope.β
You whined and pouted, looking back at him with tears in your eyes. βSo meanβ¦β
βI know, Iβm just the worst.β He turned the setting up.
βFuck.β You cursed through gritted teeth, hanging your head trying your hardest not to let go yet. You squeezed down on his cock, earning a groan from behind you.
βKeep doing that. Make me cum and maybe Iβll let you.β
You took note of the βmaybe.β You pushed back on his thrusts, trying your hardest to make him orgasm now.
In doing so, you felt yourself get closer as well. An idea ran through your head that maybe you could cum without him noticing. It was futile, though. You quickly learned your orgasm this time was different. You felt like something was gonna come out. It scared you. A lot.
βHollisβ¦I think somethingβs comingββ A tear fell down your face, already embarrassed for the outcome of all this stimulation. You could barely say it out loud.
He went faster after hearing that. βShit.β His left hand gripped your asscheek. He stuttered to a stop and groaned, finally cumming inside. He pulled out, and spread your cheek, watching the white liquid trickle out.
βHollis, pleaseβ¦β You began to beg.
βGo ahead.β He rubbed the vibrator fast against your clit. His hand pressed against your lower stomach.
The feeling from before grew more intense. It was bigger than your usual orgasm. You shrieked loudly and finally came, squirting all over his bed. βIβm sorryβ¦!β You apologized profusely during it.Β It felt so good, despite the deep embarrassment you felt.
When you came down from it, you looked down below in disbelief. You dirtied his bed. More tears rolled down your cheeks. βWhy are you apologizing?β He grabbed your chin again.
βBecause Iβ¦Iβ¦β It was too embarrassing to say.
βYou came. You never squirted before?β
You shook your head. βButβ¦it felt likeββ
βItβs squirting. Itβs normal. It happens when you feel really good.β His thumb wiped your tears from your face. βMy good girl. You did so well.β He kissed your forehead and then moved to untie your hands. You collapsed onto the bed after. He laid on the bed with you, moving the hair out of your face to look at you.
You had calmed down now, knowing that Hollis wasnβt throwing you out of his house for being gross. He didnβt seem to think it was gross. On the contrary, he pulled you closer to him, his eyes full of adoration.
βI will have to throw these sheets in the wash though.β
ΛΛΛ κ° β‘ κ± ΛΛΛ
You stayed for longer than you intended to at Hollisβ place. You lost track of time talking and cuddling with him. Aftercare was one of the best parts of whenever you hung out with him. His soft and gentle touch after all of that never failed to give you butterflies.
Hollis drove you home, and you hoped to God everyone in your house was still asleep. You looked an entire mess and you could barely walk. Somehow, he still found you beautiful.
You kissed him through the car window when you got out. He watched you climb back into your bedroom window, making sure you got in. You waved at him with a smile, giving him the cue to leave.
i mean, not to spoil but i don't think so. i never developed much about her relationship with her parents, besides the fact that she doesn't have much love for them and neither do they for her. so in general, i don't think she's willing to see them again, not for now, at least. somewhere in the middle of the story i wanted to give more context about her relationship with her parents, but i think it was pretty much implied her disdain or lack of affection for her own past. also her extreme behavior in general already leans heavily toward screaming daddy issues + mommy issues + compulsively religious parents + neglected kid energy #ourgirlisfuckedup
so im generally much more of a lore girlie and am a bit indifferent to ship fic (god bless yall tho i love that you are having fun) and i wonder if there is anything set in the osx world or like the city of unity? Ik hollis like *just* mentioned that engineboye is a racing world in the basement level of the city so that would be cool if anything (like any ship i dont care) was set there ππ
you mean like a fanfic set in that world? tbh i have half drafted a story using the qiyoku lore as inspiration, but i never quite got to develop it much. BUT when i heard him talking about an underworld of racing cars in that film, it actually sparked some inspiration. especially because engineboy is a sensitive topic for me. i actually thought about a three part series inspired by crashsite sooo i might actually write something around that sometime
a/n: softest fluffiest part i've ever written, a whole chapter without any of them committing any criminal act!!!!!!that's a first. and with this one, we only have one last chapter left</3
this is the 7th part of a series, consider reading the previous parts for context: ο΄Ύ part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, previous part ο΄Ώ
Gardnerville was a very small town before the valley. You'd been watching the landscape change for the last hour β something out of an old western, the kind your father used to watch on television on Sunday afternoons, John Wayne and endless ochre horizons.
"Are we staying here tonight?" you asked after the waitress came back with your orders and stepped away.
"No, we're not very far now. Just stopped because you said you were hungry." He looked out the window. The main street β the only street β was nearly empty even at just past noon.
"Mhm," you hummed, quieter, looking back at him.
"You okay?" His eyes came to you.
The truth was that since he'd told you about the footage, your mind had been running a quiet, constant battle between reasoning and something closer to panic. And for some reason it was your hair that kept bringing you back to it β you kept threading your fingers through it without meaning to, thinking about the profile shot, the side of your face, your long hair identifiable on some grainy security feed being run on a news segment somewhere.
"Yeah," you said. "Just nervous. First time meeting a friend of yours."
He smiled at that, nodded. "Don't worry. He's going to love you. His wife too."
His wife. You thought it and didn't say it. It was hard to picture any friend of Hollis already married and living somewhere this remote.
After you finished eating he asked again if you were alright and whether you needed anything else from town β the way he said it carrying the implication that you wouldn't be coming back for a while.
After you said no you were back on the road β maybe for the last time in a while.Β
You watched the valley open around you β snowy mountains behind you now, a wide flat green stretching ahead, livestock visible in the distance, ranches and properties passing every few miles. A peaceful landscape settling under the dim gold of dusk, peaceful enough that your eyes grew heavy. You had your head resting against the window, nearly under, when the road shifted to gravel and dirt and the change woke you. You raised your head. Wood-post gates ahead. Fencing either side, a barn, a granary, and further up the dirt track, a house with a porch light on.
"Thought you were asleep," Hollis said. He looked tired β he'd been driving since the car theft, since the casino. "We're here, honey."
He parked in front of the house and got out like it was nothing. You followed him, nerves crawling up the back of your neck. There was a couple on the front porch and the moment they saw Hollis a wide smile broke across the man's face. The woman beside him smiled too β quietly, warmly, the specific fondness of someone who hasn't seen a person in too long.
Hollis went straight to the bags, which left you to walk up to the porch ahead of him. Both of them were older than you'd expected β late thirties or forties, you'd guess. You couldn't place it. You couldn't place any of it β how Hollis knew ranch people in Nevada, how a boy from Chicago had ended up with friends like this.
The man came down the porch steps before you could introduce yourself and pulled you into a hug that surprised you completely.
"You must be y/n," he said, warm, easy. "I'm Robert. That's my wife Janice." He gestured to the woman behind him. "Make yourself at home. I'll give him a hand with the bags."
He was already moving toward the truck before you could respond. You watched him go, then turned toward Janice, who was watching you with a smile.
You noticed the slight curve of her stomach as you approached, her hand resting on it in that particular absent way. She looked at you and Hollis stepping out of the truck with an expression so genuinely fond it caught you off guard.
You were almost at the top of the steps when she spoke first.
"So you're y/n!" Her whole face lit up. "Oh, Hol talked so much about you."
"He did?" It came out before you could stop it.
"Of course he did! You're the whole reason he finally came to visit after all this time." Her arm came around your shoulders. "Come inside. Let me get you some tea. Leave them with the bags."
She steered you through the door and you followed her to the kitchen, which smelled like something that had been cooking low and slow all day. She was an easy talker. Questions arriving one after another without pressure, your age, about your hometown, genuine surprise when she learned you'd come all the way from Oklahoma. She told you about her kids briefly β already in bed, she'd introduce you properly in the morning β and about the property, and about how long they'd been out here, and you mostly listened and let it wash over you, the strangeness of being inside somewhere, somewhere with a kitchen and a family and a dog that came and pressed its nose to your knee and then wandered off again.
When Hollis and her husband came through the door Janice's whole face shifted β that specific tenderness, the kind you don't see often.
"Hol!" She stood. "You look so good. Could use some extra pounds though, have you been eating properly?"
She crossed to him and took his face in both hands, squeezing his cheeks lightly. He wrinkled his nose.
"It all went to his height apparently," her husband said from behind him, laughing. You laughed too.
You watched the three of them together β the way they moved around each other, the ease of it, the particular quality of her fussing at him and him tolerating it β and thought: this doesn't look like friends. This looks like something else. An aunt and uncle. A nephew who doesn't visit enough.
Hollis excused himself not long after, genuinely tired. You followed him.
"They're very sweet," you said, changing into something comfortable β which that night meant his shirt.
"Glad you liked them." He watched you from the bed, back against the headboard.
"Janice asked me a million questions while you two were getting the bags." You crossed to him and he pulled you into him before you'd fully decided to sit. "Robert, that's his name?"
"That's his name," he said.
"I know this wasn't exactly the plan," he started.
"I'm happy we're together," you said, before he could finish. Simply. Meaning it.
He looked at you for a long moment β studying you, the way he sometimes did when he was deciding something. "Me too," he said finally, quietly. "I'm happy, honey."
β β β β β β± β
Next morning you woke before him. He was still deep under, his face tucked against your hair, the weight of his arm across your waist. You lay there listening to his breathing, to the birds outside, to voices somewhere below. When you finally tried to slip out from under him he tightened his grip and pulled you back.
"Wait," he said, sleep thick in his voice.
"Everyone's up already." You giggled when he buried his face further against your neck.
"Not us." He kissed your shoulder.
It took some time. Hollis being constitutionally opposed to getting up before he was ready, and you not being entirely convincing in your objections.
The table was already set when you two made it downstairs. Janice greeted you both warmly. Three kids sat waiting β two older boys and a small girl. You settled beside the girl. Hollis went around the table to the seat across from you, stopping on the way to mess up the older boy's hair.
"Look how big you are," he said.
The boy groaned and shoved him, both of them laughing. Hollis sat down between the younger two. "I don't know these ones yet," he said, gesturing at the smaller kids.
"Oh, right! Let me introduce 'em to y/n too" Janice sat. "That's Bob" β the older boy β "that's Timmy, and that's Betty." She pointed to each in turn. "And the one on the way is either Noah or Ada, we haven't decided."
"You two don't have a TV or something?" Hollis said, reaching for the waffles.
"Hollis," you said.
He laughed. Janice laughed too.
"I see you only got taller." Robert appeared in the kitchen doorway, walked up behind Hollis, and slapped the back of his head lightly. You covered your smile as Hollis frowned.
Breakfast was light in a way you hadn't felt in a long time β maybe since before you left Collinsville, maybe longer. The way these people moved around each other, teased each other, made space for each other at the table without thinking about it β it was so unlike the family dynamic you'd grown up knowing. And more than that, you felt included. Every time Hollis said your name in a story, every time they caught your eye to share something embarrassing about him, every time Janice refilled your cup without asking β it accumulated into something you didn't quite have a name for yet.
Afterward, Robert took you both around the property while he ran his morning routine. A small amount of animals β chickens, cows, sheep in the barn. You'd never fed a newborn calf before and spent a full ten minutes doing it while Robert watched with an amused expression. When he brought you to the horses you'd never seen Hollis's eyes go quite the way they did β lit up and immediate, moving straight to a white horse at the far end of the stable, talking to it in a low soft voice you'd rarely heard him use on anything.
"They look like twins," you said to Robert, nodding between the horse and Hollis β both tall, both with long pale hair, both carrying themselves like they were aware of it.
Robert laughed. "Good to know I'm not the only one who thinks so."
β β β β β β± β
It didn't take long to fall into the rhythm of the place. Within a couple of days it felt almost as if you and Hollis had always been here.
Janice was the sweetest β she reminded you a little of Donna, that same motherly warmth, except Janice had a dry wit underneath it that would catch you off guard and pull a laugh out of you before you'd seen it coming. You did your best to be useful. You started with small things β offering to help cook, washing dishes, sweeping β the kind of help anyone could accept without feeling obligated. But Janice didn't just accept it. She drew you in like you'd been there for years, teaching you her recipes, the small tricks she'd developed over time, things done a particular way for reasons she'd explain and you'd try to remember. Things your own mother had never had the patience to pass on.
You weren't quite there yet, though.
One evening Janice stepped out and left you alone with the stew you'd been following step by step, and you almost turned it into something unrecognizable. Not entirely your fault.
"What are you doing?" Arms came around your waist from behind. You were already frowning at the pot.
"Stew," you said, voice tight with worry. "Or something like it. I'm not sure anymore."
"The smell's good." Hollis rested his chin on your shoulder. "But is it supposed to look like that?"
You laughed despite yourself and smacked his arm. "No," you said, somewhere between a whine and a laugh. "Hers was all colorful and... I don't know what went wrong."
"We'll sort it out." He unwrapped his arms from you, took the wooden spoon gently from your hand, and poured a small amount of the sauce onto his palm to taste. "It's not bad. Really."
He said it while visibly trying not to smile. You saw the corners of his mouth going.
"You're terrible," you said, pushing him lightly. He laughed.
"I'm being supportive."
"That's not supportive." You whined. "I'm a disaster."
He stepped closer, arms coming back around you, walking you gently toward the counter until you were up against it. Then he lifted you onto it in one easy motion, positioning himself in front of you.
"I don't mind," he said, smiling. "I could learn to cook. Or we could just order in every night."
He leaned in, hand at your waist, mouth finding yours. For a moment you forgot entirely where you were β forgot the stew, forgot the kitchen β until his fingers found the hem of your skirt, and then the smell of something burning brought you back abruptly.
"Hey." You pulled back, already sliding off the counter, pushing past him to get to the stove. "Look what you did."
"Me?" He followed, watching you turn off the burner.
"You." You looked at what remained of the stew and then looked at him, and he was already laughing, which made you laugh despite yourself. "I hate you, I really do."
That night you made him stand beside you while you confessed to Janice what had happened to her recipe. You were thoroughly flustered the entire time. She laughed β gently, genuinely β and only stopped long enough to turn and scold Hollis when he joined in.
β β β β β β± β
He moved differently around the property. When he wasn't with you, you'd find him following Robert around β dealing with the animals, doing repair work, chopping wood, fixing a section of fence that had come loose. It was a completely new version of him. Something domestic in a way you didn't usually get to see. You wouldn't have admitted it easily but it was attractive, watching him work with his sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, the particular focus he had when he was doing something physical. It also looked completely wrong on him in a way you found quietly hilarious β this city boy now covered in dirt and carrying fence posts like he'd been doing it for years.
One late afternoon you were standing on the porch when he came back from the fields. Mud on his jeans, on his hands, streaked across his white tank top in ways that suggested a genuine disaster had occurred somewhere on the property.
"What happened to you?" You held back your smile.
"There was a leak. I helped fix it." He said it simply, walking toward you in slow, unhurried steps.
"Right. Country boy."
"You mocking me, ma'am?"
He reached the porch and grabbed you before you could respond β pulling you clean off the step and into his arms. You grabbed his shoulders on instinct and held on, and it took you a moment but you did eventually register that his mud-covered hands were now on your white summer dress.
"My dress," you said, laughing. Not really caring.
"I can get used to it." He kissed your neck, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Your legs found their way around his waist without you deciding to, and his hands settled under your thighs, holding you there.
"Me too," you said quietly, looking at him. Your fingers moved lightly over the back of his neck. "This feels like a home."
"It does." His eyes were soft looking at you, softer than the fading light. "Do you miss home?"
You shook your head and smiled. "I said it feels like a home." You kissed him briefly. "Nothing like mine."
He held your gaze for a beat too long β processing it, storing it somewhere, giving it more weight than you'd necessarily intended. Then he kissed you again, and carried you back toward the porch until you made him put you down before anyone could see.
β β β β β β± β
"When I was helping Robert with the leak," Hollis said, stepping back into the bedroom after his shower, "we passed by a pond. Really nice spot. We should go."
You were sitting up in bed waiting for him. "Mhm. When?"
"Tomorrow." He dropped down beside you, hair wet. "We don't have much on tomorrow anyway. It's Sunday and Robert said he's taking Janice and the kids to church."
"What is it with you washing your hair at night?" You reached for the towel on the nightstand. "Come here."
He had that small mischievous smile as he shifted and laid his head in your lap, letting you do what you could with the towel. "So?"
"I like the pond idea." You pouted a little. It was exactly the kind of thing that excited you and he knew it.
"Then it's a date, honey." He smiled up at you.
It always did something to you when he settled into you like that. His whole frame took up most of the available space, which made the way he curled into you so naturally all the more disarming. It melted you in a way you'd stopped being embarrassed about.
β β β β β β± β
The pond wasn't far from the main house β just beyond the property line, a fence to hop and a few minutes of walking through tall grass and trees. But it was, as promised, nice. A clearing in the green, sunlight coming down through the canopy and catching the water like a spotlight. A wide flat rock sat beside the bank like it had been placed there deliberately.
Hollis dropped the bag you'd packed and pulled his shirt off. This time you didn't wait for him to call you in. You were far enough from anywhere that it didn't matter, so you stepped forward and undressed completely β your dress first, then everything underneath β and walked into the water without looking back.
You knew his eyes were on you when you glanced over your shoulder. He was standing at the bank, slightly stilled, before reaching for his zipper.
"You coming?" you asked.
He moved quickly after that, finishing undressing β fully, the same as you β and you laughed to yourself at the symmetry of it. You dove in before he reached the water, surfacing a few feet away, and when you looked back he was smiling in that particular way that meant he was already plotting something.
It stayed light for a while. Genuinely light, the kind of easy that had been rare on the road β him making stupid observations about the fish he could see near the bottom, you splashing water at him when he got too comfortable, stolen kisses that tasted like pond water, both of you laughing at nothing in particular. You couldn't track how long it went on. You stopped trying.
At some point you climbed out and sat on the flat rock, letting the sun work at drying you, and watched him from the bank.
He stayed in the water a little longer, floating on his back, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sun. You watched the way the light caught the edges of himβthe line of his jaw, the rise of his chest, the way his hair fanned out in the water like something from a painting. He looked peaceful.
When he finally opened his eyes he found you so quickly, like he already knew where you'd be before even looking at you, something shifted in his expression. Not surprise β something like recognition.Β
He moved toward you unhurried and you couldn't help but notice the mess he made of your heart whenever he walked your way. Handsome in every sense of the word. Water ran off him as he came out of the pond, and you watched the way it traced the lines of his shoulders, his arms, the narrow dip of his waist. He didn't rush. He took his time, letting you watch.
When he reached you, he didn't sit. He stood over you, blocking most of the sunlight with the width of his shoulders. His skin was still wet, cool when his hand came up to your face, water dripping down your neck, your chest. You didn't move. Just looked up at him.
"Watching me?" He braced one arm on the rock above your head and gently cradled your face with the other, tilting you back so your head rested in the crook of his forearm.
"I couldn't help it," you said, the flush already moving up your cheeks.
"My perverted angel." He smiled β nothing innocent about it β and the look alone made you feel instantly warm.
His hand moved from your face to your neck, and when he held you there, gently, his thumb at your pulse, he finally kissed you. You reached for him immediately β his shoulder, then his arm, loving the way his muscles shifted under your touch. His hand moved further down, finding your chest unhurriedly, like he was simply feeling you. He squeezed lightly, then teased your nipple, and the sigh that escaped you was involuntary. He pulled back just far enough to watch your face when it happened, smiling at what he found there.
When his hand trailed lower still, a shiver moved through you β partly the cold of his fingers against your warm skin, partly anticipation. You spread your legs for him at the exact moment his hand found your inner thigh, before he'd asked you to.
He teased β his thumb brushing over you lightly, sliding between your folds without quite touching where you needed it, doing just enough to make you wet and no more.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his face close to yours.
His fingers finally did what you were aching for β slow, circular pressure on your clit, unhurried, deliberately gentle. You gasped and whimpered and he watched your face like it fascinated him.
"Holli." His name came out as a plea, your nails pressing lightly into his shoulder.
"Tell me, my angel." His voice was tender at the center and rough at the edges, the particular combination that got to you every time.
"I need you," you whined.
"Do you?" He whispered. "Do you really need me?"
You didn't get to answer. Two fingers slid inside you and your response became a nod, wordless and helpless.
He worked them slowly at first β almost torturously slow, curling slightly, finding the places that made your back arch and your legs try to close around his hand. When he picked up the pace, stroking deeper and harder, the sounds of the pond and the wind and the birds gave way entirely to the sound of your voice and the wet noise of his fingers moving inside you. It only compounded when his thumb found your clit at the same time, and you grabbed his forearm with both hands just to hold onto something.
You couldn't look away from him. His hazel eyes had you completely, wouldn't let you go.
You were already shaking, your orgasm building through you, your toes curling against the sun-warm rock β when he said it.
"I love you."
Quiet and calm, watching your face as you came undone beneath him.
You didn't answer. He kissed you before you could, slowing his fingers through your edge, then drawing them out of you gently. The need that followed was immediate β your hand trailing down his chest, his stomach, finding his cock and wrapping around him. You stroked him slowly as you kissed, messy and open-mouthed, both of you making sounds against each other.
Then he was between your legs, filling you in one long slow push. He kept that same unhurried pace β kept his hand firm at your jaw, keeping your eyes on his, not letting you escape his gaze for even a second. Every stroke deliberate. Every throb of him inside you pulling his words back to the surface.
You pushed him back and straddled him. He sat up, arms coming around you immediately, hands gripping your ass as you rolled your hips over him. You brushed the hair from his face, took his face in both hands, looked at him β and almost said out loud how beautiful he was. Instead, breathless, so sensitive you felt like you might come apart entirely, you said it.
"I love you." Your voice broke slightly on it, more feeling than volume. "I love you so much."
It came out like something that had been held too long. Hollis smiled β really smiled, the kind that reached all the way up β kissed your lips and panted against your mouth. His large hands pressed into your skin and pulled you into a faster rhythm, and you went willingly, chasing it together until he came undone beneath you with a low, drawn-out sound, face pressing into your chest, arms pulling you in so tightly you felt it in your ribs. He spilled inside you, warm and familiar, and you held his head against you while both of you caught your breath β his face buried between your breasts, your fingers in his hair, the water running beside you and the afternoon light warm on your backs.
"Say it again," he said. "Please."
He looked up. You held his face in your hands, thumbs moving over his cheekbones.
"I love you, Hollis."
He looked at you for a moment like he was taking it in properly. Then he pulled you close again, a low, quiet laugh against your skin. "I fucking love you.β
The aftermath was slow and suspended β both of you back in the water eventually, you wrapped around him while he carried you through it, neither of you in any hurry to go anywhere at all.Β
The silence was interrupted by casual conversation, you casually saying how you didn't get to go to places like this back home while Hollis added how he used to sneak out as a teenager to go diving in a dam in Chicago.
"When I was a kid, there was this dam near my house. Wide one, deep as fuck. I used to sneak out some times and go there with my friends."
You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes were on the water, distant, like he was seeing something you couldn't.
"What did you do there?"
"Jumped off the cliffs. Swam. Smoked. Just..." He shrugged. "Felt alive, I guess. It was the only place I could feel like myself."
"How old were you?"
"Fifteen, sixteen." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "We thought we were untouchable. Like nothing could happen to us."
"Did anything ever happen?"
He laughed, low. "One time, my friend jumped and hit the water wrong. He was fine, but we thought he was dead for a solid minute. Scared the shit out of us. Didn't stop us from going back the next day though."
You smiled against his skin. "Sounds like you."
"Like me?"
"Reckless. In the best way possible.β
"Yeah. Guess I haven't changed that much.βΒ
You traced your fingers along his collarbone. The water moved around you both, slow and unhurried. βI mean, I wouldn't jump out of a cliff but this here was pretty fun, wasn't it?βΒ You said and he laughed lightly.
βI don't need to jump off cliffs anymore. I'm gonna tell you a secret.β You looked, waiting and his gaze found yours. βI've been feeling alive ever since I saw you at that gas station.βΒ
βEver since?β You asked, not fully buying it, but his gaze was unwavering. It gave you certainty.
βEvery single day after that.β
You kissed him β not urgent, not demanding. Something slower. Something that said I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.
On the walk back, his hand in yours, you thought about the irony of it β that the pond had been where you finally said it out loud to each other. You'd sworn on blood. You'd crossed state lines and shared a bed every night for these past weeks. But you'd never said those words until today, in a clearing by the water on a farm in Nevada, miles from anywhere either of you had started.
Maybe the road had been too relentless for it. Maybe you actually needed to stop somewhere long enough, to be still enough, for it to find its way out.
It got you thinking about what love even was. Whether it lived in the calm β in the quiet moments only the two of you would ever know about. In a glance sideways on a long stretch of highway. A motel stop at dusk. His warm hand finding yours before you'd thought to reach for it. His body beside yours every night, a constant you'd stopped questioning. You were sure, thinking about it now, that you'd loved him for longer than today. But what bound you was more than love, or at least more than the word. You could call it devotion. You could call it despair. You could call it an aching need that overflowed you when you weren't managing it. But it was simpler than all of that. It was life. Life had brought you together. And as drastically as it sounded, you thought that only the far opposite of life could bring you apart.
β β β β β β± β
A few days later you were watching the kids in the living room while Janice rested. They were lovely, mostly β except for Timmy, who had a particular talent for finding things that shouldn't be broken and testing their limits. Currently it was his sister's doll. You managed that with patience, explaining carefully while the older boy mocked him from the couch, which made Timmy cry, which required a separate round of managing. You handled it. Somehow.
"You're actually good with them," Janice said, appearing in the doorway with two cups of coffee. "Did you have younger siblings?"
"Not really." You took the cup she offered. "But they're easy. Especially Timmy."
You winked at the boy and he beamed at you from the floor, entirely recovered.
"Do you want kids?" Janice asked.
You nearly choked. "No. I mean. Not now."
She laughed and patted your shoulder. "Relax. You two are very young. But who knows?"
"No." You widened your eyes. "No, no. There's no way."
You laughed nervously. Though somewhere underneath the laughter was the quiet, unwelcome awareness of how many times you hadn't thought about that, and the dread that followed.
Janice leaned in, her eyes catching the pendant at your chest. She reached out and held it lightly between her fingers. "I see he gave you his mother's scapular."
"His mother's?" The conversation shifted entirely. "Do you know her?"
"If I know her?" She laughed quietly. Then, leaning closer, lowering her voice: "I was her college best friend. I was there the day she found out she was pregnant with that boy."
You stared at her.
"He didn't tell you that," she said. Less a question than a realization.
"He just said Robert was a friend. That's why we were coming here."
"That dumbass." She groaned softly. "Okay. I'm going to tell you this because that boy cannot use his words to save his life. Robert was his father's business partner, until things got out of hand. We left Chicago a few years ago. Bob was only five."
"I'm sorry," you said, not entirely sure what else to say.
"Don't be. We made a life here. Away from all of it. We're happier here than we ever were there. And honestlyβ " She looked at you steadily. "I'm glad Hollis got out too. I couldn't have watched him turn into one of them."
There was something in her voice that wasn't just resentment. It was relief, old and deep, the kind that comes from having worried about something for a long time and finally being told it turned out alright. You sat with it quietly, and felt the itch of every question you now had no idea how to ask.
That night in bed, Hollis was telling you something about the property β something that had happened with one of the horses, you thought β when he stopped mid-sentence. You'd drifted without meaning to, your eyes somewhere past him, your hands around the scapular.
He watched you for a moment. You didn't notice.
"Y/n," he said.
"Sorry." You looked up at him. He was standing by the bed, watching you with that particular stillness that meant he was worried and trying not to show it. "I'm sorry."
"What is it?"
You sighed. Looked down at the pendant in your hands, then back at him.
"I was talking to Janice today." You kept your voice slow, careful. "She told me this was your mother's."
"It was," he said. Dry, simple.
"She told me. About her and Robert. That they were friends with your parents." You looked at him. Waited.
He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge of it, back to you. The silence stretched.
"If you don't want to talk about itβ "
"It's alright." He said it to the wall in front of him. "I'm just not used to it. But yeah. They were friends. I grew up knowing them."
You moved closer, reached for his shoulder, hesitated briefly before pressing it lightly. Then you wrapped your arms around him from behind. His hand came to rest over yours where it lay against his stomach. He exhaled slowly.
"So," you said, quietly. "It's like meeting your family."
He laughed, but there was something bitter at the edge of it. "Might as well be. Robert's more of a father to me than my actual father has ever been."
It broke something loose in your chest β not just because of what he said, but because you recognized it. You knew what it was to feel that way about a parent, and you hadn't wished that on him. You kissed his shoulder. His neck. Rested your face against him.
"Everyone's escaping that man." His voice came low, rough at the edges.
"And your mom?" You felt brave enough to ask before you could stop yourself.
"She left him. Two years ago." His hand tightened over yours. "Left everything, actually. I don't blame her. A bad life, a worse husband, and a troubled kid. I would've done the same."
"Heyβ "
"It's okay." He lifted your hand, pressed his lips to your knuckles. "I really don't blame her. I left because I didn't want to become what I was becoming. That's all." A pause. "You'll meet her one day. She's... She's something else, honestly. Really esoteric, super artsy. But she's sweet. You'd like her."
You laughed softly at how he said it. "Do you think she'll like me?"
"Who wouldn't like you?" He said it simply, like it wasn't even a real question. "She'll adore you."
You felt the warmth creep up your neck. "Stop it."
You tried to pull back and he caught your wrist, turning in one easy motion and pulling you into his lap. His hand found your face β that warm, steady hold that always made you look at him properly, whether you meant to or not.
"You're the most charming person I know," he said. "Anyone who doesn't love you immediately is out of their mind."
You didn't have anything to say to that. You just kissed him, and felt your heart ache with it β with how open he'd been tonight, how tender underneath all of it. You could see it clearly, for the first time without any fear attached.
β β β β β β± β
Routine was starting to grow on you. Waking up in the same bed every morning, lazy mornings that stretched without obligation, talking about the day before falling asleep β you loved all of it. For a while you almost forgot why you were here. While things were this peaceful, this quiet, it was easy to let the rest of it recede.
Until you caught Hollis and Robert talking in low voices somewhere on the property, and they went quiet the moment you came close enough to hear. Or you walked into a room and the conversation stopped. It bothered you β not because you needed to know, but because it made you feel like a child being kept from the adult table.
Once it happened while you were standing with Janice, and she frowned at them β mainly at Robert. "You could both be less obvious about it," she said, and went back to what she was doing.
Which raised its own set of questions. She knew. How much did she know, and why were you always the last to have any of it?
One evening you were gathering laundry for the next morning β you and Hollis had been taking turns, and this was yours β while he lay in bed with his phone. A rare enough sight that you noticed it. He seemed focused, so you tried to start a conversation. He gave you half his attention at best.
You dropped the laundry basket onto the mattress.
He looked up, eyebrows raised. "What's that for?"
"I'm trying to talk to you," you said.
"I'm sorry, honey. I'm just dealing with something." His eyes went back to the screen.
"What? What are you dealing with?"
He looked at you again, more carefully this time. "Our way out of here."
"Is that what you and Robert keep whispering about?"
"Among other things."
"And what does he know about us?"
"A lot."
"What about Janice? And why do I know nothing about any of it?" The annoyance in your voice was clear, and you weren't trying to hide it.
He sighed and set the phone down. "Come here."
It took you a moment, but you went. He did what you knew he'd do β hands at your hips, pulling you in until you were standing between his legs, his eyes coming up to find yours. Your hands settled on his shoulders on their own, and he smiled faintly.
"They know why we're here," he said, his thumb moving slowly along your waist beneath your shirt. "They know about the footage, half the things we've been doing. But there are other things β things that go back to Chicago. Things that don't involve you entirely. Not yet."
"Then tell me," you said quietly, threading your fingers slowly into his hair. "We'reβ I meanβ we're something, aren't we?"
"Baby, we're way more than something." He laughed softly. "And I want to tell you everything. I justβ I don't want to put this on you right now. Don't wanna worry you."
"I'm already worried, Holli." Your brows pulled together.
He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed his lips to your knuckles. "Do you trust me?" You nodded. "Then let me fix this. The things from Chicago, they don't touch you. Not for now. Let me sort it out, and when we actually get to start our lives, you'll know all of it. I promise. We'll have all the time in the world."
He kissed your hand again, and eventually you folded into him β your face tucked against his collar, his arms coming around you, warm and steady.
"Do you want me to do the laundry tomorrow?" he asked after a long, quiet while.
You laughed against his neck. Nodded.
"I'll do it, pretty girl."
β β β β β β± β
The next morning you woke earlier than usual. Hollis's side of the bed was already cold β you could hear the shower running, and then stopping, and then nothing. A line of pale light slipped through the gap in the bathroom door.
You dragged yourself up, still half-asleep, and pushed the door open.
He was standing at the mirror, towel wrapped around his hips, hair wet, body still drying. If you'd been any more awake it would have been a sight worth stopping for.
"Morning, honey," he said, glancing at you.
"Why are you up so early?" You pressed the back of your hand to your eyes, trying to bring the room into focus. The pale bathroom light wasn't helping.
He turned slightly, cupped your face in one hand, and pressed his lips to the top of your head. "Going to town later with Rob. Figured I'd finish my chores first."
"Very dedicated of you," you murmured, looking up at him. He'd turned back to the mirror, studying his face with a particular expression.
"What do you think about this?" He gestured vaguely at his jaw.
You squinted. It took a moment β you'd never seen it before, not once during the whole trip. He'd always taken a razor to his face before anything had the chance to grow. But now there were faint lines of a mustache beginning, the suggestion of a goatee, and along his jaw a sparse, barely-there growth that had clearly been quietly happening while you weren't looking.
"Oh," you said, stepping closer to see him properly in the mirror. "I didn't even know you could grow a beard."
He laughed. "What do you mean? I'm offended!"
"I'm sorry!" You laughed too, at your own surprise. "You just... You always shave before it gets anywhere." You looked at him in the glass. "You're still handsome, honey." You rested your head lightly on his shoulder.
"Well." He shrugged. "Better get rid of it."
He reached for the shaving foam on the sink and the thought arrived so quickly and clearly that you just said it before it had fully formed.
"Can I do it?"
He turned to look at you. "Shave me?"
You nodded. He grinned, confused and amused in equal measure.
"Do you know how?"
"How hard can it be?" You took the foam from his hand, looked at it, looked at his face, and smiled. Already committed.
"Sure, honey." He was smiling too now, settling into the idea. "Go on."
"Sit there." You pointed to the edge of the bathtub and he obeyed without argument, lowering himself down, long legs spread wide, looking up at you with that particular expression β amused on the surface, something else underneath.
You stood in the space between his knees and got to work β spraying foam into your palm, working it across his jaw, his chin, his neck, above his upper lip. Careful and focused. His eyes stayed on your face the whole time. You'd have felt self-conscious once, under that gaze, but somewhere along the way that had changed. His attention still made your heart do something, but the urge to escape it was gone. It just felt like him.
"Don't move," you said, picking up the razor.
"Wasn't planning on it," he said, the smile still there.
You hesitated briefly before the first stroke and then started. Slow, short strokes, rinsing between each one. You were frowning slightly without meaning to, brows drawn together in concentration.
"You can press a little harder, honey," he said.
"Quiet." You didn't look up.
He laughed softly. You felt it through the hand steadying his jaw. "I said don't move."
"Alright, alright."
His hands found your hips. Not pulling you anywhere, not pressing β just resting there, warm through the fabric of your shirt, like they'd landed out of habit. You noticed and kept working. You were holding your breath somewhere in the middle of it and didn't realize until you let it out. His eyes hadn't left your face. Under the pale bathroom light they looked brighter than usual, that specific hazel that you'd learned to read before you'd learned it was something you were doing.
When you finished you took the towel and wiped away the remaining foam, turning his face gently to check both sides. Even. Clean. You reached up to the cabinet without letting him stand and found a lotion, which you applied slowly across his jaw and cheeks.
He watched with a knowing smile. "What are you doing?"
"You should moisturize after shaving." You kept your voice matter-of-fact.
"Yeah?" His smile was all teasing now, entirely unbothered by the skincare advice.
He pulled you closer β arms wrapping slowly around your body, his chin lifting toward your chest as he looked up at you. You hugged him back, fingers threading into his still-damp hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you knew he liked.
"Thank you," he said, after a moment. Quieter now. "I'm not used to it. Being taken care of."
You pouted. Your face went warm. "I like taking care of you."
"I know," he said. He caught your hand, pressed his lips to it, then stood β pulling you with him, both of you nearly stumbling in the narrow bathroom, and you laughed. He laughed too, steadying you both, his arms still around you.
"You're so good to me," he said, low. "So fucking good."
You pulled him down by the neck, closing the small distance until your noses touched, foreheads together, eyes level.
"I love you," you said.
"I love you." He smiled before he kissed you β warm, unhurried, the kind of kiss that took the rest of your breath without trying to.
He carried you back to bed, and the early morning became something slower and quieter, his body moving over yours lazy and unhurried, both of you still half in sleep, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
β β β β β β± β
Later, Hollis went to town with Robert β something about the car β and you stayed with Janice. The usual rhythm. You'd just come back to the house from feeding the chickens when you found her on the porch, scissors in hand, trimming Timmy's hair.
"You do that yourself?" you asked.
"Easier than driving to the hairdresser every two weeks for a trim. I cut my own too." She didn't look up, focused on the back of Timmy's neck.
You watched her work, and without deciding to, your hands went to your own hair. You couldn't remember ever cutting more than a few inches off it. It had been long your whole life, as long as you could picture yourself.
And then β quietly, the way realizations sometimes came β you thought about the security footage. Your profile. Your hair. The one detail that maybe could make you identifiable even in a blurry image. A new life could come with new hair.
"After Timmy," you said, "would you cut mine?"
Janice looked up, a flicker of surprise giving way to enthusiasm. She hesitated when you told her how much β just above the shoulders, significantly shorter than anything you'd ever had. But she didn't talk you out of it. You sat down, and as the long strands of dark hair fell to the porch floorboards you felt the specific strangeness of watching something you'd carried for years disappear in sections. The chills moved through you. So did something that felt almost like relief.
When you looked in the mirror and brushed the new length back, you felt like someone else. Not unrecognizable β just new. The bangs Janice had cut, the layers, the way it all framed your face differently. Someone new and also still you.
"It looks so good," Janice said from behind your shoulder. "You look so girly."
You smiled at that. You felt it.
β β β β β β± β
Hollis came back late in the afternoon. You were in the kitchen putting together a snack for you and the kids when you heard him come through.
"Honey, Jan said you were in heβ " He stopped.
You glanced back. "How was town?"
"Theβ " He stopped again, whatever he'd been about to say dissolving entirely. "You lookβ that's justβ "
You felt a flicker of nerves. He was looking at you with that particular stillness, eyes moving over your face like he was processing something and hadn't finished yet.
"God, you look beautiful." He crossed the kitchen in a few strides and took your face in both hands β you felt small in the best way. "Did you justβ "
"Do you like it?" You looked up at him, your face warm under his hands and his attention.
"So much." He leaned down and kissed you, brief and certain. "Didn't know you could get any prettier."
"Shut up," you laughed.
He kissed you again and pulled you in with one arm around your waist.
"That's seriously gross." Bob's voice from the table.
You pulled back, laughing. Bob and Timmy were both making faces of theatrical disgust.
"Y'all too nosy," Hollis said.
"Y'all disgusting!" Bob announced.
"Disgusting?" Hollis's voice went playful and low. "Nah, little buddy. You're done now."
He went after Bob, who scrambled off his chair and started running laps around the table. Timmy was already screaming catch him, catch him with tremendous investment. You stood by the counter laughing as the chase moved through the kitchen, into the living room, and out the front door β where Hollis eventually caught up with Bob and they both went down in a heap on the grass, and then Timmy was crying because he'd tripped over his own feet following them, and Hollis spent the next five minutes quietly negotiating with him not to tell Robert, apparently offering bribes you couldn't quite hear but could absolutely imagine.
You watched from the doorway, the afternoon light warm on the porch, and thought: this is what it looks like. Whatever it was they were building toward. This exact thing, right here.
β β β β β β± β
Later that night you were lying on top of him in bed, his hand moving slowly through your hair β a light, absent caress that made your already worn-out body feel even lighter. Then his hand came to your forehead and he started brushing your new bangs back and forth across your face, back and forth, like he was experimenting with them. You laughed and pushed his hand away gently.
"What are you doing?" you asked, smiling.
"I don't know. It's different." His hand moved to your cheek instead.
"Good different?"
"Definitely." He petted your head the way you'd pet a cat and you smiled despite yourself. "It makes your eyes look bigger."
"What?" You laughed. "Is that a compliment?"
"Of course it is. You look like a doll." He pulled you in and kissed you briefly. "My pretty doll."
You didn't know how he always knew exactly what to say, but it got you blushing and tucking your face into his neck before sleep took you both under.
β β β β β β± β
It was early morning β still dim, the light just beginning to come through β and you were in the barn with Grace, the newborn calf you'd been feeding since the first day. Her mother wasn't producing enough milk, and you'd taken over the bottle without anyone asking you to. She knew you now. When you came in calling her name she made small sounds of excitement that you found entirely disproportionate and completely wonderful.
"I see you two have gotten close," a voice said from the entrance.
Robert, leaning against the doorframe with his coffee.
"I'm basically her second mother," you said, still petting her forehead.
"You really are." He laughed. "You finished with her?"
"Just saying goodbye."
"Could you give me a hand with something?"
You ended up outside holding a fence post steady while he hammered it in, the morning cool and quiet around you.
"I think you know by now," he said between strikes, "but I've known Hollis since he was about this high." He lifted one hand to his waist. You laughed, thinking of the height of the man currently asleep in your shared room. "What was he like?"
"Impossible." He said it with the particular warmth of someone who'd loved a difficult person. "You know Timmy? Make it ten times worse. He used to follow me everywhere, asking questions like I'd have every answer. Wouldn't stop talking."
"That's genuinely hard to picture," you said.
"He'd tell you his whole life story if you asked only for his name." Robert laughed to himself. "Until he grew up and learned to keep things in. And then he kept too much in. You know how it is."
"Yeah," you said quietly. "He still does."
"He learned it for his own protection." Robert paused, setting the hammer down for a moment. "I can't imagine how things got after I left."
"He holds you in a high place, sir," you said.
"God, don't call me sir. Rob, Bob, anything else." You laughed. "But listen. I'm glad he found you. When he told me he was leaving Chicago with nothing but a car it scared the hell out of me. Then he told me he'd brought you along and that scared me even more." He laughed at that, something fond in it. "I gave him hell for it, honestly. But I think you might be the best thing that happened to that boy on this trip."
"I don't know," you said. "Sometimes I feel like I've made things harder for him. He says the opposite, butβ "
"You drive him crazy, he told me that too." You looked at him, surprised. "But you make him feel. And that's something I was genuinely worried his father had taken out of him."
That landed somewhere deep. Not just the words but the weight of who was saying them β someone who'd known him as a child, someone Hollis trusted with things he didn't give anyone else. Knowing he'd talked about you. Knowing someone this important to him had looked at you and approved.
"You're making her do manual labor, old man?" Hollis's voice came from behind you.
"She's being helpful," Robert said, his tone shifting easily into something playful. "Unlike you."
"Give me that, honey." Hollis reached for the fence post and you started to say you could finish, then just nodded and stepped aside, watching the two of them take over like you hadn't been there at all, and feeling entirely at peace with that.
β β β β β β± β
A few days later you were coming back from the barn when you noticed Hollis out in the field with the white horse he'd taken to immediately, embarrassingly, on the first day. He was standing close to the animal, one hand on his neck, his face near his, talking to him in a low voice. You stood watching them for a moment before he noticed you and waved you over.
"You really like him," you said when you reached him.
"Her," he corrected, glancing at you. "Her name's June."
"Sorry." You smiled. "Hi, June. You're very pretty. You look just like my Hollis."
You said it softly to the horse, who turned her large head toward you at the sound of your voice. You reached up carefully and scratched at her neck. She shook her mane and you felt the muscles beneath your hand shift and twitch, which made you laugh.
"She likes you," Hollis said.
"How can you tell?"
"She didn't bite you." He said smiling. You laughed.
"Have you ever ridden a horse?" he asked.
"A long time ago. When I was little."
"Do you want to?"
You thought about it for a moment β but he was looking at you with that particular open smile, the one that made him look younger, and you already knew where this was going.
He helped you up on her first, bareback, his hands firm at your waist, lifting you with ease. You settled onto June's warm back, the muscles beneath you shifting as she adjusted to your weight. You grabbed a handful of her mane, steadying yourself, and felt the sun on your shoulders, the breeze catching your hair.
Then he mounted behind you β one smooth motion, the kind of ease that came from practice. His weight settled behind you, and you felt the solid warmth of his chest press against your back, his thighs bracketing yours.
"Alright?" His voice was close to your ear, low and warm.
"Yeah," you said, breathing out.
His arms came around you, both hands finding June's mane, his wrists grazing your sides. You loosened your grip on the mane, let your body settle into the motion of the horse beneath you. His arms were loose around you, not holding you in place but just there, bracketing you.
June started forward, a slow, easy walk that rocked you gently.
"Doesn't it bother her?"
"She's strong," he said. You could hear the smile. "You said she looks like me, but honestly she's more like you."
"How?"
"Stubborn. But sweet about it." The horse picked up a slow, steady pace and you moved with her, adjusting. "One time I was brushing her mane and she got annoyed and pulled away, so I stopped. Left her alone. And the second I walked off she followed me halfway across the field like a lost puppy."
"That's not what I do," you said, looking back at him.
"Sure, honey." He squeezed you lightly against him.
You leaned back into him anyway, just enough to keep the contact, and he let you. You passed through the open gate and out into the field, the valley spreading ahead of you, green bathed in the low gold of late afternoon.
"This is nice," you said quietly.
"Better than the car?"
"So much better." You exhaled slowly.
His laugh moved through his chest and into your back.
"We're leaving in a few days," he said, his voice shifting into something quieter.
"California?" you asked.
"Yeah. Finally." Something in his voice had weight to it β not reluctance exactly, but heaviness. Like the word had more in it than he was letting out.
"I'll miss this," you said after a moment. "I'll miss them." A pause. "But I'm ready to actually get somewhere."
He hummed. And for a while there was nothing but the sound of June's hooves moving through the grass, the wind passing low through the field, and his breath steady at the back of your neck.
Later that evening you sat on the front porch and watched the valley turn blue and then dark. You lost yourself in thought without noticing the temperature drop, and by the time you came back to yourself your fingertips were cold.
The front door opened behind you. You looked back and found Hollis in the frame of it, the inside light behind him, his silhouette filling the doorway.
"Dinner's ready," he said.
You didn't answer right away. He looked past you, out toward the valley. And then, like he'd understood exactly why you were sitting there without needing it explained, he came out and sat beside you. He stayed quiet for a long while, the same as you, watching the dark settle over the flatland and the mountains beyond it. You rested your head on his shoulder. He was steady in a way nothing else had ever been.
β β β β β β± β
The remaining days passed faster than you expected. Janice kept you close, always finding reasons to pull you into the kitchen or onto the porch, always starting conversations that drifted naturally toward something that felt less like small talk and more like advice she was offering sideways β about Robert, about their early years, about how things weren't always easy and how that was part of it. She mentioned once that Los Angeles was only seven hours from Gardnerville, that she sometimes thought about making the drive down with the kids. It was a small thing and she said it casually, but you heard what she was doing. Not only had you grown attached to this family β the feeling was mutual, and she wanted you to know it.
The hardest part was the morning of the departure.
Janice made a full breakfast β said you had a long drive and needed to be fed. Hollis pointed out there were restaurants on the road and she swatted him. It was all warmly comic and a little melancholic, the particular feeling of a last morning somewhere you weren't ready to leave.
Then Timmy overheard.
In all the weeks you'd known him, through all the tantrums and the broken toys and the crying jags over completely invented injustices, you had never seen him like this. His small round eyes went watery almost immediately. You thought at first it was Hollis he was upset about β but then you felt a small hand close around the hem of your skirt, and a small head press against your hip, and you understood he was trying, in his quiet way, to simply keep you there.
When it was time to actually leave, he wouldn't let go. When you shifted he started to cry β silently, the way children cried when they were trying not to be seen doing it.
"Oh, Timmy," you said softly, reaching down to smooth his blond hair.
"Don't go," he said, small and shy, barely audible.
"Honey, the car'sβ " Hollis stopped. He'd looked down and found Timmy at your skirt. You could see the amusement starting at the corner of his mouth and you gave him a look that said don't you dare and he held it back with visible effort.
He crouched down in front of the boy instead, one hand on his shoulder, eye level. Timmy looked away, his face going from sad to sulky and betrayed.
"You're taking her away," he said.
"I'm notβ " Hollis almost laughed and caught himself. "I mean, we have to go home. But we'll come back."
"You don't know that. I heard Mama saying you were going to a whole other country."
"Another state, you fool," Hollis said, and you pushed his arm lightly. He grinned. "I'll bring her back. I promise. Like I promised you that chocolate and I delivered, didn't I?"
Timmy considered this with a small pout, working through the logic of it. Then he looked from Hollis to you.
"Don't forget about me," he said, smaller again, a different register than the one he used with Hollis.
You crouched and pulled him into a proper hug. "I promise I won't."
"Hey," Hollis murmured behind you, "where's that voice when you talk to me?"
You pushed him without looking.
The rest of the goodbyes were easier, as goodbyes went. Janice held you longer than anyone, whispering thank you against your ear and telling you that you were family now, that whatever you needed she'd be there. Robert was more contained in the way he always was β a long embrace, a few quiet words to Hollis that you didn't catch. Bob and Hollis bickered for a while the way they always had and then Bob gave you a shy, sideways hug like he wasn't entirely sure how. Betty was cheerfully oblivious to the whole departure, which was its own kind of mercy β her small wave and uncomplicated smile lightening something that might otherwise have been heavier than you could manage.
You left in a different car than the one you'd arrived in. The stolen truck was gone β you figured that was what the trip to town with Robert had been for. This time you didn't watch the farm disappear in the mirror. You looked at each of their faces one last time, properly, and then turned to face the road ahead.
Your eyes kept drifting to the driver's seat. Not checking on him β just out of habit. A habit you'd caught yourself in since the very first time he'd driven you anywhere. You noticed, not for the first time, that his roots had grown in darker, the blond giving way to his natural hair. You'd noticed before but neverf quite registered. This time you just reached over and took his hand where it rested on his thigh. He looked down at it, then at you, and brought it to his lips without a word.
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