the penthouse windows glowed with the last of the cities lights. la stretched out below like it was yours because in so many ways it was. strip clubs with neon signs pulsing your name, chains of businesses, venues, art galleries, underground lounges. you name it. money came in faster than you could count and it never stopped. neither did the chaos but this kind of chaos? this was different

billie stood in front of you in an oversized tee, one of yours and there was fire in her eyes. she was pacing with her voice sharp and hands moving too fast as she tried to make her point

“you dont even listen sometimes” she snapped, her jaw tight and blue eyes glinting “you just do things, make decisions, and i find out after everyone else”

“thats not true” you said calmly, leaning against the kitchen counter with your arms crossed as you tried to keep your cool “you do know things. you just dont like how i handle them sometimes”

"no” she said, spinning toward you with her face flushed “i dont like being treated like your fucking project. like youre just keeping me in a glass box so you can say im yours”

that got to you. not because it was true but because it was so wrong it made your blood boil

your eyes narrowed “is that really what you think i do? after everything?”

“you tell me” she muttered, her arms crossing over her chest “youve built a damn empire. you could buy the damn city and sometimes i feel like just one of your trophies. like another thing youve conquered”

she didnt see it. the way your hands curled into fists by your sides and the way your chest tightened like her words were bullets. the way she could destroy you faster than any rival business ever could because it was her and you were so in love with her it made you irrational and dangerous

you had done insane things for her. paid off managers. threatened producers. bought out media outlets to bury stories. hell youve moved whole events around just so you could watch her perform from the front row. she was the only one who made you feel in this life

“im not your fucking trophy y/n” she whispered but her voice broke just slightly and that was it

you crossed the room in two strides, grabbed her by the waist, and kissed her so hard she gasped against your mouth. her back hit the wall behind her with a soft thud but she didnt push you away. she just clung to you like she needed this just as bad as you did

you lifted your knee between her legs, holding her there and pressing into her like you were trying to brand her with every piece of you. she gasped again as her hands went up into your hair

“you talk too fucking much” you muttered against her lips, breathing heavy “and you say shit that cuts deeper than you even know”

her chest was rising and falling fast as her hands gripped your shirt “im sorry-”

“no” you interrupted “dont say sorry. just listen”

her eyes searched yours, wild, wet, and stubborn like always

“ive been crazy about you since the second you walked into my life. you think im powerful?” you leaned in closer, your lips brushing her jaw now “youre the only one who makes me weak. youre not a trophy. youre the whole fucking war billie”

her breath hitched and you could feel her body softening under yours, the heat between you impossible to ignore “everything i built, everything ive fought for. it all means nothing if i lose you”

she cupped your face suddenly, her lips brushing yours with a gentler kind of desperation now “then stop shutting me out”

“then stop trying to push me away”

for a moment you both just breathed there, pressed together like the world outside the penthouse walls didnt exist

“im yours” she whispered

you closed your eyes for a second with your forehead resting against hers “and im yours. more than i should be”

it was always like this between you. fire and fury then heat and heartbreak and hands tangled in hair. people talked about you like you were a myth, some fever dream of a love story that burned too hot to last but fuck it. youd just burn hotter