𝐑𝐄𝐃-𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃

☆ / @SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            hannah listened , nodding along as she set her mug down and sat up straight . ` ` sugar , no offense taken what so ever . ` ` she began , hands folding . ` ` i understand exactly what you are say , absolutely . . but you see . ` `
            
            she tilted her head . ` ` to me , there is a difference between love and protection over lust and obsession . the men who obsess are the ones who like to flaunt , that isn ' t always a bad thing in context but . . ` ` she crossed her leg , her expression serious now . unlike the joyful one before . ` ` someone who flaunts a person as if they own them is where they go wrong . ` ` she folded her hands , elbows on her knee and chin atop her fingers . ` ` i would rather have a man obsess over me and love me for hannah instead of obsess and lust over the angel of applause . . a love in once self is detrimental to a person , no ? ` ` she gave a indifferent smile , as if perhaps . . she , herself , was preaching what she could not practice . . love in one ' s self . . a pity . 
            
            ` ` and it is rare for them to look for hannah . so it is rare that anyone steps foot in here in a romantic sense . ` ` she scooped up her mug once more , bringing it to her lips with her eyes closed . 

@starscreens 
            
            He swallowed, thinking his answer over for a moment with his focus turned back on the mug before meeting her bright eyes once again. She was leant in now, he wasn't sure if that was helpful or not. 
            
            "You're obviously an attractive woman." His accent was thick, his voice low and his gaze steady; without a flicker of desire for anything, even her, in them. He rubbed his index finger over the side of the mug as he spoke. "You are popular. I've seen you multiple times in magazines before I met you. Simply, it is hard to imagine you living alone when men in the city are.." he paused, pressing his lips together as he tried to find a word in English to describe it. He sighed through his nose. "... obsessing..over you. I hope you take no offense to this."

☆ / @SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            hannah seemed to listen , her mug brought up to her lips as she watched him , how he had analyzed her , is how she herself was analyzing him . her baby blue eyes scanning every feature before they made it to his eyes .
            
            ` ` what ever do you mean ? ` ` she asked , curiosity dripping with her honey sweet words as she lowered her mug . moving a bit so she could lean forward , giving a bit of a position where she seemed genuinely interested in his next words .

@bloodshed 
            
            /  thank you so so much, it means a lot <3

/       love it & him already  < 3

@greazemnky 
            
            /  constitution is shorter than this 
            
            He could see the panic seep in. The way her eyes darted, frantic, over the mess inside the car. The moment that light got on she trembled like prey under the hunter's scope. Mikhail was skilled in many things; patching of wounds and tending to his own. But some things had no bandage to stop it from bleeding. 
            
            Brown eyes tracked how she slowly brought herself out. Bit by bit she stepped from the wreckage, and he could pnly be glad that her spine didn't take any damage. He didn't lead her out. He worried about touching her, as if a brush of fingers might break her apart.
            
            When she spoke his name he snapped out of his thoughts - those that concerned themselves with the wound - and looked at her. She was close to crying again. Her face was a mess below the gas station lights, her eye makeup was smeared and somehow that black color brought out her eyes even more. He could feel his chest tighten at the sight. Dealing with victims never struck a nerve as it did now.
            
            Perhaps because he knew her. He couldn't tell.
            
            Her plea surprised him. The wound was deep, the bullet was still in there and yet all she wanted was to go away.
            "Don't say that." He whispered, and his hand reached out hesitant to touch her before lowering down again. His eyes were softer now, lacked their usual cold edge just like his words did. "I can't do that to you.. I can bring you to my car but.." he glanced at the highway away, his jaw tightly locked in place before his face turned to her again. "..we have to wait on the ambulance, Roxanne. Do you want to come with me? I promise I'll .." his hand reached out again, slowly settling against her wrist like an awkward sign of comfort. "I'll stay with you. All the way."

3/2 because I don’t know how to count
            
            
            “I just wanna leave. Please.”
            
            For the first time that night she glances back at the car—the shattered window, the blood, the bullet hole, the place she’d nearly died. Fresh tears gather immediately.
            
            “I can deal with everything else later. I just…” Her voice breaks as she looks away again. “…I don’t wanna sit next to it anymore.”

2/2
            
            Her gaze lifts and finds him.
            
            For a moment she simply stares. His face. The concern he wasn’t hiding very well. The way he’d shown up without hesitation. The way he’d come running. The tears blur her vision slightly, and for one ridiculous second she genuinely thinks he looks like something heaven accidentally dropped into the wrong parking lot.
            
            A shaky breath leaves her.
            
            “Yeah.”
            
            She nods weakly and immediately regrets it. Pain tears through her shoulder so suddenly that her vision spots black around the edges. A groan escapes her as she attempts to shift forward, her legs sliding toward the pavement. The movement rattles something deep inside the wound.
            
            The bullet.
            
            Still there.
            
            Still buried.
            
            “Mother of—”
            
            Her hand shoots out immediately, grabbing onto his sleeve. Her fingers clutch the fabric tightly as she squeezes her eyes shut.
            
            “Okay. Nope. Hate that. Hate that so much.”
            
            A watery laugh escapes her despite herself, the sound wobbling dangerously close to a sob.
            
            Slowly, awkwardly, she manages to drag herself the rest of the way out of the driver’s seat. Every muscle feels weak. Every breath hurts. By the time her feet finally touch the ground she’s trembling—not from fear anymore, but exhaustion, pain, and adrenaline finally burning itself out.
            
            “Mikhail…”
            
            His name comes out quieter than usual. Smaller. She hates that almost as much as she hates the look she’s certain he’s about to give her.
            
            “Before you get mad…”
            
            Her eyes immediately drop toward the pavement.
            
            “…no doctors.”
            
            A beat.
            
            “I know. I know exactly what you’re gonna say.”
            
            She swallows hard and her fingers tighten around his sleeve again—not enough to stop him, just enough to keep herself steady.
            
            “Don’t do the disappointed thing.”
            
            The plea comes out before she can stop it.
            

@SUNSWALLOWING    ( … )      [     a   low   growl   exited   her   lips,   one   of   frustration   more   than   anything   else.   this   was   becoming   a   shit   show.   her   hand   clasped   around   her   firearm   at   her   side,   crouching   down   low   with   her   back   pressed   against   the   closest   wall.   her   gaze   snapped   over   to   him,   eyes   narrowing   in   suspicion   at   his   denial.   someone   had   clearly   tipped   them   off — if   it   wasn’t   mikhail,   then   who ?   her   piercing   hues   assessed   him   for   a   few   moments,   gaze   lingering   on   his   temple,   before   she   shook   her   head.     ]       you   have   a   concussion.   / stay   down /.       [      kalina   glanced   around,   her   focus   honing   in   on   the   closest   stairway   that   led   to   the   ground   floor.   she   checked   how   many   bullets   she   had   left,   closing   the   magazine   with   a   loud   click.      ]      we’ll   talk   about   this   later.   can   you   walk ? 

@killerwidows 
            
            [  His pulse thumped hard in his ears, he couldn't get his lungs to keep up. Mikhail stared up at the sky and at the helicopter approaching like a man witnessing divine intervention with his own human eyes. It didn't make sense. Swallowing, he turned his face to her first but his eyes failed to follow at the same time, only late by a moment before settling on her, frightened, unsure. ] I didn't.  [ He breathed, and wiped the blood off his temple from the fall he just took. The bruise bit back in anger, sending a surge of pain into his skull.  Cursing instead of letting a groan out, he looked at the vehicle again before shaking his head. ] They came by themselves. I didn't do it.

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            Roxy watches him in silence for a moment longer than she probably should.
            
            The cigarette between his fingers, the gold flicker of the lighter against his face, the smoke curling from his mouth—it all looked unfairly cinematic on him. Like something out of one of those old crime movies her mom used to watch late at night.
            
            And annoyingly, she could tell immediately that this wasn’t casual for him.
            
            The shaky hands gave it away.
            
            Her teasing softens a little at the edges.
            
            “Mmm,” she hums quietly, stepping closer so she can steal the cigarette straight from between his fingers instead of taking one from the pack.
            
            She takes a quick drag purely for the dramatics before handing it back, smoke slipping from her lips with a grin.
            
            “You know,” she says lightly, “for somebody who keeps pretending he’s relaxed, you look very stressed right now.”
            
            Her eyes flick toward him again, softer now—more observant than teasing.
            
            “Which is exactly why my racer bar idea is sounding smarter and smarter, by the way.” She nudges his shoulder lightly with hers. “You get information, people see us blending in instead of skulking around looking suspicious, and maybe…” a small grin tugs at her mouth again, “…you stop looking like you’re two seconds away from fist fighting the air.”
            
            She glances ahead before adding quieter:
            
            “And honestly? You might actually have fun if you stopped trying so hard not to.”

@greazemnky 
            
            He looked over at her but she turned her head away just as quickly, hiding her face from him. Mikhail watched the side of her face now only, the length of her hair that covered it, and how far it stretched. The Russian pushed air out of his nose in a mock laugh, and turned to look ahead again.
            
            "I am relaxed." 
            The words came out foreign and so fake it made him internally recoil at it. Mikhail sighed and pushed hair from his face before slowing down his steps when they reached a more quieter area. He felt his pockets and fetched out a cigarette pack. Whenever asked, he claims he is not a smoker. It doesn't attract him, it is not professional, hell - it is bad overall. And yet when his hands shake and when things seem too tight for him to breathe in, he pulls out the one thing that clogs his lungs.
            
            Mikhail took the cigarette from the pack with his lips, keeping a good walking pace despite lowering his head to guide the flame of the lighter to the end of the cig. That brief flick of light illuminated his hair golden. 
            
            With a puff of smoke he was back into his previous pace, glancing at her before taking the cigarette out of his mouth. In a moment of weakness, perhaps, or kindness wearing shrouds of sin (in his eyes), he gestured with head towards her. "Want one?"

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            Roxy goes quieter after that.
            
            Not fully silent—she didn’t think she was physically capable of that—but the teasing edge in her voice softens when she hears the strain underneath his words. The way he keeps explaining himself like he needs her to understand.
            
            Like he needs himself to understand.
            
            She lets him guide her through the crowd without complaint this time, even when his hand settles against her bare shoulder. The cold touch sends an embarrassing little shiver down her spine before he pulls away too quickly.
            
            And for some reason, she misses it immediately.
            
            Her gaze drifts toward him again, catching the tension locked into his jaw, the way he stares ahead instead of at her now.
            
            “You know,” she says softly after a moment, “you keep saying this is just about the mission…”
            
            A small smile tugs faintly at her lips, though there’s something more uncertain beneath it now.
            
            “But people usually don’t look that stressed over someone they’re only using for information.”
            
            The words leave before she can stop them.
            
            Roxy looks ahead quickly afterward, fingers tightening around her keys again as she tries to recover some version of her usual composure.
            
            “I mean—whatever,” she mutters lightly. “You’re the scary assassin federal guy here, not me.”
            
            A pause.
            
            “Besides,” she adds, forcing a smaller smile back onto her face, “if we walk around looking tense and awkward, people notice. Relaxed people blend in better. Less curious eyes.”
            
            She says it casually enough.
            
            Like that’s the only reason.
            
            But somewhere in the back of her mind, another truth lingers quietly beneath it:
            
            Because when you’re around, I kinda stop feeling like I’m alone in it.

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            /  pshhhh she’s totally not obviously crushingggg 
            
            Roxy pauses halfway through opening the driver’s side door, immediately latching onto the topic change like a lifeline.
            
            The second she sees the cigarette pack in his hand, a grin spreads slowly across her face again.
            
            “Ooo,” she hums, leaning against the car for a second. “Finders keepers, federal boy. That’s basically garage law.”
            
            She plucks the pack from his hand without hesitation, turning it over curiously between her fingers before tucking it into the pocket of her cargos.
            
            “And besides,” she adds with a smug little shrug, “if your mysterious little cigarette friend left them behind, then clearly they didn’t need them that bad.”
            
            Her eyes flick back up to him afterward, playful again—comfortable again.
            
            “Look at us,” she teases lightly while unlocking the car. “Already sharing clothes and bad habits. This is getting deeply concerning.”

@greazemnky 
            
            /  I know who you liiikeee <33
            
            [  amour. Mikhail furrowed his eyebrows hard at it, unable to decipher where it came from nor why. Amour. It felt unnatural, clung to his clothes like smoke, carried a reminder of a past that doesn't stay buried. He pressed his lips together and stayed quiet, aware the playful, teasing air had diminished due to his lack of reaction and her overdone one. Her cover up barely fixed anything, Mikhail watched the keys with the same fascination a cat watches a cheap toy, and when she headed for the car he took his old jacket. Taking out his wallet, keys, gun, his hand froze when he held his badge and for a moment he hesitated ; if he were to leave it, where should he? It is not safe in some girl's garage. Glancing up to where she went, he tucked it into his wallet and gathered all the items into the various pockets of his new jacket. ]
            
            [  Walking over, he felt the inside of it and an unfamiliar shape brushed his fingers. He felt his left breast pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes, barely touched. Unsure how to break the ice with her again, and heavily aware how awkward he really is, Mikhail walked behind her like a golden retriever puppy before showing her the pack in his palm. ] "Are you a smoker? Should we leave this behind for your... friend or bring it with us?"

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            Roxy’s grin only widens the second he looks away from her like that, like she’s just won something without him realizing it.
            
            “Mhm,” she hums knowingly, rocking back on her heels. “Sure, mon amour (my love). I’m the one taking this too seriously.”
            
            The tease leaves her lips so casually it almost sounds natural—until she catches herself immediately afterward.
            
            Her own eyes widen a fraction.
            
            Then, before he can react to it, she abruptly spins away with a sharp little laugh, digging through her jacket pocket for her keys.
            
            “Anyway!” she says quickly, jangling the keys in the air as if that fixes everything. “C’mon, scary federal man. Try to keep up.”
            
            But the pink tint creeping across her cheeks as she heads toward her car absolutely gives her away.

[ Lucian remains a statue in the rain, the downpour slicking his hair against his forehead, though he doesn't so much as blink as the droplets track down his face. A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth not out of friendliness, but from the grim satisfaction of a professional being asked to reveal his trade. He adjusts the fit of his glove once more, the leather creaking softly in the quiet between them. ] " Preparation is a quiet business, Mikhail. Bases aren't broken into; they are dismantled from the inside before you ever step foot across the perimeter. " [ He tilts his head, his gaze remains sharp and analytical, locking onto the position of the sniper. ] " You're looking for a grand entrance, but the best ones are invisible. I didn't break in. I was simply meant to be there, and the security was too busy looking for a monster to notice the shadow already standing behind them. Are you asking because you want to learn "

@bloodshed 
            
            [  the sniper clicks, aimed but not firing yet. Mikhail watched him like a vulture perched above prey that refused to die; angry, and slightly disappointed. Brown eyes flickered down to the attire he wore, then to how far the ground was from his position. He lowered his weapon downward, and remained in the low laying position. Mikhail chewed on his words, his face cold and hardly human in its lack of reaction. Then he spoke. ] "Tell me, how did you do it?" [ It was a whisper, curious and surprising even to himself. The rain soaked his hair, made his fingers loose on his gun. If he weren't fond of it, she would cause him to slide right off and onto the pavement like a corpse.] "That day; how did you break into the base."

[ Lucian remains perfectly still, the sharp gaze Mikhail noted earlier smoothing into a mask of chilling, professional indifference. He slowly relaxes his fist, smoothing the leather of his glove with the rhythmic precision of a man who has done this a thousand times. A dry, rasping breath that might have been a laugh escapes him as he tilts his head, meeting the cold stare behind the scope. ] " A walk implies leisure, Mikhail. I’m working. " [ He takes a single, deliberate step forward, unbothered by the rifle trained on him, his voice dropping to a low, velvet hum that carries despite the distance. ] " And you're wrong about the trigger. I don’t kill because a 'branch snaps' or because I'm startled. I kill because I’ve decided the target's time is up "

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            Velatrix watched him pull the gloves on with quiet amusement, her molten gaze lingering on the careful control in his movements like she could see the tension stitched beneath his skin.
            
            “Attached is a strong word.”
            
            The corner of her mouth twitched upward faintly afterward.
            
            “I follow cops because your jobs tend to bring me closer to home when I’m feeling nostalgic. Murder, corruption, human suffering… very infernal atmosphere. Comforting, really.”
            
            A small shrug rolled through one shoulder.
            
            “Besides, you say that like telling me no has ever actually stopped me before.”
            
            She pushed herself off the desk then, boots hitting the floor softly as she moved toward the office window instead.
            
            “I’ll meet you there regardless.”
            
            Her eyes flicked back toward him briefly, amused now.
            
            “What exactly are you going to do? Arrest me?”
            
            “Pfft.”

@sinfulsitter 
            
            [  His features wrinkled when she got close, the smell was too hard on his senses. It gave his fury a scowl to carry as a crown. Her words reached her the same way they would've reached a wall. ] "I don't care." [ He replied simply, and keeping his cold eyes fixated on her molten ones, Mikhail straightened his posture, and slowly let go of the table. He lingered close for a moment, and one could almost see the clogs in his mind turning right behind his brown eyes. His head tilted at her then, slowly,  as if assessing baggage too heavy to carry. ] "You, for some reason, have gotten attached to me." [ He whispered, and his dark eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.  ] "I don't see why you would. Unfortunately,  I have no time to think about it," [ His head dropped so he could focus on pulling his gloves on, and his body turned away from hers, already set on going to the crime scene and going alone. ]

@SUNSWALLOWING 
            
            Velatrix went still for a moment after he finished speaking, staring at him like he’d just said something so profoundly ridiculous she almost respected it.
            
            Almost.
            
            Then a quiet scoff left her, smoke curling past her lips as she tilted her head slowly at him.
            
            The expression on her face wasn’t offended.
            
            Worse.
            
            Amused.
            
            “Mikhail,” she murmured smoothly, “you keep talking to me like I’m some disobedient housecat you can lock in another room until you’re finished working.”
            
            Her molten gaze dragged deliberately over him afterward—the rigid posture, the hand braced against the desk hard enough to whiten his knuckles, the careful control stretched thin beneath his calm voice.
            
            She noticed all of it.
            
            Of course she did.
            
            “And what exactly is your plan here?” she continued softly. “You leave, I sit politely on your desk, smoke cigarettes, maybe stare wistfully out the window until you return?”
            
            The corner of her mouth twitched upward faintly.
            
            “You have a very optimistic understanding of demons.”
            
            Then she leaned forward slightly, close enough now for the scent of smoke and infernal heat to settle heavier around him.
            
            “And you,” she added in a quieter voice lined with amusement, “are far too tense to be giving orders like they’ll actually be obeyed.”

/       mayhaps , cuz why not    ;)

/ plsssss bb plsssssss

      /      <33