lily 𐙚⋆.˚

You would admit your fault, but who could fault you for admiring your man? In truth, you were really ‘annoyed’ because Hollis laughed in your face when you died, then he had the gall to call you out for being too focused on your phone to lock in for the minecraft grind.

The red screen glaring that you were ‘doomed to fall by a zombie’ did not help the situation.

While you were attempting to retrieve your loot before it despawned, Hollis was working on ‘something special,’ as he called it.

“You’ll love it, I promise,” he swore, biting his lip in a mixture of glee and determination as he seemed hyper-focused on his task at hand.

You couldn’t even stay fake mad at him for long. He looked adorable as he focused on the screen ahead of him, slightly hunched over with the faint sound of keyboard in the background.

Finally, you made it back to him with a pretty damaged iron helmet and leather boots for armour. Your health and hunger weren’t looking too hot either, but at least you had your diamonds.

“I have something for you,” Hollis said. You glanced at your phone propped up on books by your side, noticing a faint smile on his lips. His words sounded somewhat ominous.

“What?” You questioned, returning your attention to the game, and he dropped an item—it was your favourite minecraft flower. You smiled at the gesture, thanking him.

“Do you accept my apology?”

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, placing the flower in your off-hand.

You had an inkling of what Hollis had been cooking up as you followed his in-game character, but you didn’t think the base would be so pink. The walls were made from cherry planks and even the windows had pink-stained glass.

You had to bite back your giggles as you walked past the flower garden that formed a misshapen heart. You tease, “Cute house.”

“It’s a home. Our home,” he responded. “You want a tour?”

“With pleasure.”

The base had the essentials: a crafting table, furnace, and chests, but it also had cute decorations. The last stop on the tour was the bedroom, and you noted the classic red minecraft bed placed in the middle of the room.

“This is where the magic happens,” he stated, and you scoffed playfully.

Hollis pauses his character for a moment, dropping you another item.

“A bed?” you questioned. It was in your favourite colour.

“Yeah, so you can place it next to mine… if you want to,” Hollis replied, observing your expression on his phone. You were beaming that smile of yours, and you hadn’t stopped since he gave you the flower.

You weren’t sure why he was acting coy now, but you were going to play along.

“Do I have a choice?” you joked, and Hollis’ response was immediate.

“No.”

You sarcastically sighed, placing the bed next to his in-game and setting your respawn point.

Despite being away from each other, there was something oddly intimate about playing minecraft, out of all games, with you on a call. Maybe it was the late hour—you were both in your own little world, giggling at the dumbest shit at 2 in the morning, ignoring the day’s responsibilities ahead so you could spend time with each other for a little longer.

“Wait—,” Hollis said suddenly, gifting you diamond armour and tools from one of his chests.

“Are you calling me broke?” you accused, although you had been struggling since the incident in the cave after losing most of your shit to lava.

“Can’t I spoil you, baby?”

“You just want to flex on me,” you scoffed, still accepting the items.

“What? Nooo,” Hollis disagrees, not sounding convincing.

At some point, you had given up playing, preferring to lie in bed and watch Hollis instead. The only thing going on in your sleep-deprived mind was how good he looked. His hair was tied up, strands falling out, and his glasses slipped down his nose now and again.

Hollis refused to tell you what he was doing. You were half expecting to join the world later, only to be greeted with a statue of you. The comfortable silence between you was filled with the music from the game and the occasional breaking and placing of blocks.

However, Hollis noticed that you were more silent than usual. His brown eyes flutter to his phone screen, which displayed you, asleep, your own phone threatening to slip out of your grip.

He grabs the device, holding it close to his face as he admires you, a soft smile on his lips. He takes a couple of screenshots to tease you with later, and he ends the call after a quiet “Goodnight. I love you,” even though you can’t hear him.

"twenty four thousand?? omgosh-" you sit up straight, criss cross apple sauce, still completely bare from waist up, and you grin happily "thank you so much!! are you guys trying to do a token battle or something?" you look nervous but excited and another notification pops up.

"daddy22 has sent 4 thousand tokens. daddy22 is now the highest spender of this livestream with 26 thousand tokens sent."

"woah! no- guys, that's enough. please, i think that's enough. daddy22, i'll .. send you the link for the call!!" quickly, before anyone can spend more tokens, you end the live and send the link to daddy22's dms.

when the private link arrived in hollis' dms, his hands were shaking.

he looked at the screen for a hot minute, still horny and hard.

he clicked it.

the video call connected to a dark screen at first, just the faint glow of a hotel room, one of those generic setups with cream colored walls and heavy curtains blocking out the city lights. then the camera adjusted, and there he was.

not his face. the camera was angled down, focused on his body from the neck down. he was lying back against a mountain of hotel pillows, shirtless, a towel wrapped dangerously low on his hips. the lighting was dim, warm and golden.

"there's my prize," that voice rumbled through the speakers, and you felt it in your spine, making your stomach flip. "you look nervous, baby. don't be. we're just going to have some fun."

you adjust your camera, making sure he could see your whole body. you was wearing the same as the livestream just 3 minutes ago, but you had the matching bikini top on. and you watched as his chest rose and fell a little faster at the sight.

"take it off," he commanded, and there was no hesitation from you. you pulled on the tops straps, revealing your pretty chest, and the matching thong that has a wet patch on it already. his hand moved, disappearing below the frame of the camera, and you knew he was touching himself under the towel.

"show me," you whispered, "can i see, please, daddy?"

he chuckled, that rough sound that seemed to vibrate through the connection. "greedy already? i like that." the camera shifted, the angle tilting lower as he pushed the towel down, revealing his hard, veiny, thick, and heavy sex. "i've been hard since the stream started. thinking about you. about what i'd do if you were here in this room with me."

you reached for the toy you prepared beside you, a seven inch dildo, pale pink silicone, the biggest one you owned. it felt useless now, knowing what he was packing, but your body ached to be filled. you showed it to the camera, watching as his abs flexed in response.

"seven inches," you said, your voice breathier than you intended. "you.. are you seven inches?."

"eight," he confirmed, and the camera shifted again, his hand wrapping around the thick length of his cock, veins standing out, the tip flushed and heavy. he stroked slowly, from base to tip, spreading the precum that had already formed. "but i can make do with seven. for now.. i'll just have to buy you one that replicates me."

he kept the camera focused on his sex and abs, never tilting up, maintaining that mysteriousness. but as he stroked himself, his hips bucking slightly into his fist, the camera shook with the movement. it tilted up, just slightly, just enough, and you caught a glimpse of more.

his lower stomach, the sharp v of his hips that you'd seen in so many photos, so many videos. and higher, just briefly, the bottom of his jaw, the way his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

something clicked in your brain.

that voice. that specific rough voice, the way certain words were slightly raspy, you've heard it before.

"touch yourself," he was saying, his hand working his cock with steady, practiced strokes. "i want to see you take that toy. pretend it's me."

you slicked the dildo with lube, the lube kind of useless, since you were dripping wet, and your eyes never left the screen. he tilted the camera back down now, focused on the sight of his fist sliding over his length, but your mind was racing. the abs. the specific shape of muscle, the way they flexed when he moved. the hair on his stomach, a happy trail. the voice saying "pretend it's me" with that specific way, that specific sound.

you pressed the toy against yourself, gasping as you pushed it in, but your attention was split. you were watching him, those abs tightening as he stroked faster, the muscles in his forearm standing out as he gripped himself harder, but you were listening more. to his heavy breaths. to the way he moaned, low and guttural, when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"fuck, you look good," he groaned. "taking that toy like you were made for it. wish i could feel how tight you are. wish i could push all eight inches into you, make you feel every fucking vein."

his voice. that voice.

you knew that voice.

you've heard it in concert videos. you've heard it in interviews, heard it singing lyrics that felt like they'd been pulled directly from your chest, your heart, and your bones.

the camera tilted again. he was getting close, his hips stuttering upward, fucking into his own fist. the angle shifted higher, showing more of his torso, those abs you recognized, the specific pattern of muscle definition, the way his ribs showed just slightly when he arched his back. and his hair, what you could see of it, blonde and messy and falling across his shoulders that specific way.

your hand stilled on the toy. your heart stopped.

"keep going," he panted, not noticing your hesitation, lost in his own pleasure. "i'm gonna cum, fuck, i'm close-"

"wait," you whispered.

he didn't hear you, his fist pumping faster, the muscles in his stomach twitching with the effort.

"wait," you said louder, and this time he paused. his hand slowed, gripping himself at the base, and you could hear his breathing, ragged, desperate, confused.

"what? what's wrong? you okay, princess?"

you stared at the screen. at the abs. at the hair. at the hand wrapped around that thick cock. and you listened to the voice, really listened.

"your voice," you said, "say something else. say... say 'don't care what people think, but work hard.'"

silence. heavy and shocked and absolute.

on the screen, his chest stopped moving. he was holding his breath.

hollis recognized that quote. he said it during one of his interviews.

"say it," you repeated, and your hands were shaking now, the toy forgotten on the bed beside you. "please. just... say that phrase."

a long pause. then, quiet, almost scared: "don't care what people think, but work hard."

"oh my gosh," you breathed. "you're 2hollis. you're actually fucking 2hollis. 2hollis is having phone sex with me. you just paid for this. oh my gosh!!" you gasp "2hollis called me baby!! he told me- oh my gosh." you breath heavily and try to calm yourself down.

the camera jerked. you heard him swear, heard the rustle of sheets, the creak of the hotel bed. for a moment, the screen went dark, he covered the lens with his hand.

"shit," his voice came through, muffled, terrified. "shit, shit, shit. fuck. how did you-"

"your abs," you said, and you were laughing now, your whole body vibrating with laughter. "i've seen those abs in so many photos. the way your muscles are shaped. and your hair, when the camera tilted up, i know that hair. i know how it falls. and your voice. hollis, i would know your voice anywhere. i've listened to you on repeat for years."

the screen was still dark, but you could hear him breathing, fast, panicked. "this isn't... i wasn't supposed to... fuck. no one's supposed to know. no one's ever recognized me."

"you're in a hotel," you said, piecing it together. "you were just at gov ball.. i saw your performance. that's why the room looks different. you're daddy22 but you're also... hollis."

the screen flickered. slowly, hesitantly, he uncovered the camera. the shot was shaky now, unsteady, showing just his chest and stomach, his hand still gripping himself, softening now, the moment broken.

"are you going to tell anyone?" he asked, and that famous voice sounded small, vulnerable.

you looked at the screen. at the body you've fantasized about in daydreams, let alone having phone sex with. let alone him spending thousands on you just for a call. at the cock still wet and hard in his fist, even as he tried to cover himself, suddenly shy.

"no," you said softly. "but i need you to do something for me."

"what?"

"show me your face."

he went still again. "i don't... i never show my face. that's the whole point-."

"i know what you look like," you reminded him. "i've seen your face a thousand times. in music videos. in interviews. in fan photos. i just want to see it now. while you're here. while you're hard for me."

a long, long pause. then, slowly, the camera began to tilt upward.

you saw his mouth, those lips that sang lyrics you knew by heart, parted slightly, breath coming fast. his nose, and finally, his eyes.

hollis' eyes. hollis frazier herndon. dark and intense and looking directly into the camera like he could see through the screen, straight into you.

"hi," he whispered.

"hi," you breathed back.

we stared at each other for a long moment, you in your bedroom surrounded by posters of his face, angled away from the camera, him in some anonymous hotel room with his cock still out, his identity shattered, his daddy22 anonymous persona taken away by a fan who knew his body better than he realized.

"you're still hard," you observed, your eyes darting down to where the camera still showed the tent in the sheets, the obvious outline of his boner.

he laughed, surprised, and some of the tension broke. "yeah. yeah, i am. you kind of blew my mind just now, but my body didn't get the memo that we're having a crisis."

"good," you said, and you reached for the toy again, slicking it with more lube, positioning it at your entrance where you were still wet, still ready. "because i wasn't finished. and now that i know who you are... i really want to finish."

his eyes darkened, that familiar intensity returning. "yeah? you still want this? even knowing i'm just... me?"

"you're not just you," you said, pushing the toy in slowly, gasping at the stretch. "you're 2hollis.. and your daddy22. you paid, what, how many thousand tokens for this?"

he chuckled but it turned into a groan, his hand moving back to his cock, pulling the sheet down fully so you could see him again, see everything. his face and his body in the same frame, the intimacy overwhelming.

"fuck," he muttered, stroking himself back to full hardness, his eyes fixed on the screen where he could see me working the toy in and out, your hips rolling to meet each thrust. "this is insane. this is the most insane thing that's ever happened to me."

"tell me what to do," you gasped, the toy hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your vision blur. "tell me like you would in your songs. like you would on stage."

he understood. his voice shifted, dropping into that performance personality, that commanding tone that made thousands of people scream his name.

"touch your clit," he ordered, and you obeyed, your fingers finding your sensitive spot, circling it in time with your thrusts. "good girl. fuck, you look so good taking that toy. wish it was me. wish i could feel how hot you are, how tight. i'd fill you up, make you take every inch until you couldn't remember your own name."

"yes," you moaned, the pleasure building, coiling tight in your belly. "yes, daddy!" you whined loudly.

"pinch your nipple," he continued, his hand moving faster on his cock, the muscles in his forearm flexing. "hard. make it hurt a little."

you did, crying out at the sharp sensation.

"now fuck yourself faster. like you need it. like you'd die without it."

you obeyed, slamming the toy into yourself, your hips lifting up, your whole body arching toward the screen. he was matching your rhythm, his abs standing out in sharp relief as he braced himself against the pleasure.

"close," he warned, his voice breaking slightly, losing that commanding edge as he got closer to the edge. "fuck, i'm so close. cum with me. please, cum with me, i need to see you—"

"yes," you gasped, "yes, daddy, hollis, yes!!—"

he came first, his head falling back against the pillows, his mouth open in a silent scream as thick ropes spilled over his fist, his stomach, painting those abs you recognized, marking that body you've studied from afar. the sight of it, 2hollis coming undone, daddy22 losing control, pushed you over the edge.

you cried out his name, "hollis,fuck, daddy,!"as your orgasm crashed through you, your body clamping down on the toy, your fingers working your clit through the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

when you finally came down, gasping, trembling, he was looking at you. really looking at you, his face soft in the afterglow, his chest heaving.

"that was..." he started, then trailed off, laughing breathlessly. "that was insane."

"yeah," you agreed, your voice hoarse.

we lay there in silence for a moment, two people connected by a screen, by a secret, by the most intimate kind of recognition.

"so," he said finally, a small smile playing at his lips, the lips you've seen in music videos, in interviews, in your dreams. "you recognized me from my abs?"

"and your voice," you confirmed. "and your hair. and the way you move. i know you better than you think, hollis."

he was quiet for a moment, thinking..then, "can i call you again? not as daddy22.. just... as me?"

he looked slightly embarrassed, "i'll pay! i'll pay double, is that okay?"

you smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the orgasm just a few minutes ago. "i'd like that."

"good," he said, and he looked relieved, almost giddy, like a this is the best thing that could ever happen. "good. because i think i need to get to know someone who can recognize me from my abs. that's special. that's crazy, but special."

you laughed, reaching for something to clean up, watching as he did the same, wiping himself down with a hotel towel, still keeping the camera angled so you could see his face. the mystery was gone, but something better had replaced it.

"next time," you said, "i'm buying an eight inch toy."

he grinned, that smile you've seen in a thousand photos, but this time it was just for you. "next time, you won't need a toy at all."

the call ended, but the connection remained, vibrating in your chest.

tags :: @xomyli @cherryscrumbles @greensprvalley @glitterandviolence13 @kingoveverything @nothinlikeuuu @baddestbitchtoeverlive @y-yasminn @velvryz @glowygurlie @lunaasolar @luvvconceal @2bun22 @gwensexxual @sweet2sin @isol0philia @swagaliciousdragonn @antiunicornform @natesibsdih @iampercprincess @ilysophia

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♱⠀

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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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♱⠀

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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. his gaze felt impossible to escape. your fingers twitched faintly at your sides, but you refused to move. refused to look away. your heart pounded for two entirely different reasons.

the man standing in front of you had murdered your fiancé. he had stolen your future. he had buried the life you once believed would be yours. he had destroyed everything.

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.  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."

your brows drew together. "what?" - "everyone else did, my love." his voice never rose. "your family. your fiancé. even your friends." he took another slow step toward you. you took another one back. the distance between you remained exactly the same.

"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." 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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

with a quiet sigh, he reached across the passenger seat and pulled your late fiancé's case file onto his lap. crime scene photos. forensics. witness statements. he read through everything again. carefully.

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

a few minutes later, you found yourself standing at the mouth of the alley. your alley. the one you'd avoided ever since your fiancé's death. but now it pulled you back in. because somewhere inside you, hope had quietly taken the place of fear. hope that he'd be there again. saint.

your saint

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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 he never did. he always came back. the guilt never left you. sometimes, it still woke you in the middle of the night. your late fiancé's face still found its way into your dreams. roman's kindness still sat heavily on your conscience. but the weight became easier to carry.

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.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

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.

⠀

♱⠀

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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.

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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.

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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.

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they spent months searching for saint. in the end, he was found exactly where he'd always wanted to be. in your arms.

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