#can violence also be foreplay? yeah

[shyravenns]

Yall ever think that Nikprice like to get into bar fights for fun on their date nights

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him. 

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.” 

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you. 

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles. 

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed. 

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him. 

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape. 

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you. 

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good. 

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way. 

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found. 

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands. 

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!” 

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?” 

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent.  You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat. 

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to  conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke. 

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily. 

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore. 

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence. 

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?” 

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?” 

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him. 

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside. 

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you. 

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten. 

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.” 

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.” 

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.” 

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.” 

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off. 

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work. 

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly. 

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt. 

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing. 

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps. 

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum. 

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip. 

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp. 

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave. 

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!” 

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.  

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes. 

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments. 

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut. 

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave. 

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?” 

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking. 

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come. 

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer. 

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain? 

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V. 

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone. 

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.” 

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same. 

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser. 

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly. 

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt. 

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt. 

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss. 

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle. 

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat. 

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk. 

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it. 

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved. 

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.” 

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop. 

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him. 

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you. 

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see. 

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed. 

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection. 

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob. 

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better. 

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back. 

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily. 

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!” 

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms. 

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you��,  he sobs, hugging you close. 

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it. 

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy. 

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t. 

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek. 

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face. 

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful. 

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in. 

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling. 

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin. 

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly. 

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug. 

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms. 

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you. 

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you. 

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests. 

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other. 

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do. 

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him. 

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection. 

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down and grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[mistyheartrbs]

your thoughts on fuffy? i've always thought that it's the only relationship that actually makes sense for buffy (despite the fact that they almost tried to kill each other, but lbr that's basically foreplay for her). they're foils, they're entirely different but also just alike where it matters, they're the only one that can truly understand the other, plus faith was clearly hopelessly in love with buffy and we love a desperate gay yearning thing. i just think they're neat.

i do like fuffy a lot! i'm a complete sucker for "i see all of you, even the ugly parts, and i love you not just in spite of it but because of it" ships (see: faberry and kumirei aka my two otps to end all otps) and fuffy very much falls in that category. i think it's funny that faith basically falls right between buffy's two main love interests with angel's dark side and also Entire Plot and spike's devil-may-care attitude and the writers seem to know this too, dancing around it in a very quintessential queerbait sort of way. she pulls something dark out of buffy that buffy herself is afraid of looking at too closely - the inherent violence of the slayer role as well as the inherent exploitation that slayers face at the hands of the watchers etc. the blood on both of their hands. it's fascinating and i'm glad that spike was able to sort of carry that torch through s5 after faith left.

in short: yeah i like fuffy

[pear1escence]

Hello! I read your “being keegan’s girlfriend would entail…” and was wondering if you could do one for David/Hesh Walker? My manz doesn’t get enough love

If not that’s totally okay! Thanks for reading!

Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…

Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…

David ‘Hesh’ Walker x fem!Reader (that’s my last name too actually wink wink)

Explicit - 18+

⭒ He’s got a lot of room in his heart for tenderness.

⭒ The pain he feels from having lost his father hasn’t gone away, but it doesn’t plague him like it used to. (Listen, we’ve got Logan safe and sound in this universe our man doesn’t need any more problems)

⭒ What he needs from a lover is patience. The violence he’s experienced, it’s made him rougher around the edges. (Tougher? Rougher? Pls help) He just needs a lil time to soften up to you, I think Hesh would be the sweetest man f’you, such a loving and considerate boyfriend.

⭒ Hesh cherishes the intimate, sweet moments of a relationship. Holding you in his arms in the early hours of the morning, listening to your little puffs of breath, the calmness in your face as you sleep.

⭒ He’s so gentle with you. If it’s his thumb stroking over your cheek in soothing motions, or the palm of his hand running along the soft skin of your back. Treats you so well.

⭒ Chemtrails over the Country Clubs by Lana Del Rey reminds me of him. ‘Tulsa Jesus Freak’ and ‘Let Me Love You Like A Woman’ are Hesh songs to me. Very domestic and intimate.

⭒ I think of him as a socially confident person, a man who carries himself with confidence, falls into conversation easily. He’s charming he’s got rizz basically, you don’t have to search for long to find the reasons you fell for him.

⭒ I mean…pretty green eyes, tall, arms like his? I’d eat him up.

⭒ He’d date someone shy, I think. I think he’d find your shyness endearing, amusing even.

⭒ He loves taking you out for dinner, partly because he loves the sight of you all dressed up for him. He strikes me as someone with he a classic taste, likes romantic makeup styles, dresses that hug your curves and lacy lingerie.

⭒ His softness carries over into the bedroom, of course. I can’t imagine him being degrading or enjoying anything too rough, honestly. He can’t resist teasing you a bit though, a little meanness is all fun. He likes you submissive though, and he can be stern sometimes. Who’s complaining anyways let’s be honest with ourselves😓

⭒ He’s gonna be groping you mercilessly. Loves soft thighs, a nice pair of tiddies, anything soft. He’s big on foreplay, loves to finger you while praising you. Luvs to praise.

⭒ He WILL suck on your nipples. Probably groaning about how much he loves your body while doing so.

⭒ Wouldn’t actually choke you, but he’ll wrap a hand around your neck nd apply pressure gently, he likes seeing his hand ‘round your neck + you find it grounding, even comforting.

⭒ Makes you look him in the eyes while his hand is in your panties, “Does that feel good, baby? Yeah?” Nd you best believe he’s stopping if he doesn’t get an answer.

⭒ Very into eye contact while he’s fucking you. Again with the “You like that, pretty girl?” While gripping your jaw nd making you look at him, groaning out a “Good girl” once you answer him.

⭒ This just turned into sex headcannons bruh😞

⭒ Loves blowjobs. Also lowkey wants you to lick/suck on his balls but he’s a bit embarrassed to ask, you’ll figure out he enjoys it from his reactions anyways. Also pretty hairy, but not as much of a bear man as Keegan is.

⭒ He sends you pics of him in his combat uniform while he’s out on deployment. He’ll certainly appreciate pics of you in return, a mirror selfie of you in some nice lingerie would drive him crazy. Loves a nice photo of you in his boxers too.

⭒ I think he’d be very shy about reciprocating those kinds of images, but he’d send you over some mildly suggestive ones. He’d be very confused if you ask for a nut vid. (That sounds so fucking dumb, nut vid??)

Me?? Writing for someone other that Keegan??? No but this was fun, I’ve been wanting to write for Hesh for a while. Hope you enjoyed!! I think this is my first request ever tihi

[boilingcowboy]

the hole “annabeth is so mean to percy” argument is so funny to me not because it’s wrong but because percy was just as mean to annabeth as annabeth was to him like i fear them being pissy and snippy with each other was a large part of their dynamic throughout most of the books in pjo and it made so much sense and they balanced each other out so much because of that.

like first book they were at each other’s throats (but also halfway obliged at each other’s backs)

second book too but now they’re also at each other’s backs

third book well not much together there so percy is at everyone else’s throat to compensate

fourth book they’re back to each other’s throats and it’s menacing and foreplay at the same time and everyone is confused INCLUDING BOTH OF THEM (and also at each other’s backs)

fifth book (i am still catching up so to be included)

like yes they are “mean” to each other, if you even wanna call it mean cus 99.99% of the time it was either sarcasm or just plain teasing in which both parties are aware that it’s teasing HERE flashback to when in book two percy joked about annabeth tempting him to let her die and annabeth just taking back to it because they’re both aware that it’s teasing and not serious.

and including the fact that both annabeth and percy grew up in an environment where violence was both a survival technique (annabeth growing up being a demigod and percy getting bullied) and in annabeths case (but technically also percys in a way but that’s a hole other post) also something that was celebrated (here again the hole demigod shit with rivalries and camp war games) it is only to be expected that to some way that violence is gonna stick in some sort of way.

and i don’t mean that they both just beat people up and try to hurt people but that they both more some present themselves as a “don’t you even dare fucking with me” type of person e.g. they’re snippy, they’re rude, they’re “cold”, THE RESTING BITCH FACE BOTH OF THEM HAVE MASTERED and so on.

In an environment where people are training together, fighting together, war games are celebrated, everyone (mostly) is thriving of of bloodlust in one way or another. of fucking course the result of that is gonna be a kid like annabeth.

and in an environment where violence is a result of being seen as soft, weak or different but if retaliating against that violence only comes with consequences for oneself. once again that kid is gonna be like percy who has put on the “don’t fuck with me” attitude as a means to survival.

now pair those two up you get two kids who are snippy, sarcastic and teasing with each other (sometimes in ways that seem a bit too far) but are also able to be comfortable with each other because once again those two are way too similar in some ways and both of them are in knowledge that they can count on each other.

like there is comfort in the hole thing for both of them. for annabeth because it’s mostly something that she’s familiar with (e.g. her relationship with clarisse) and for percy because to some degree he is aware that annabeth is not like the people he previously was accustomed to (e.g. people like nancy i forgot her last name).

the hole “i just told you to kys a second ago but also i am now going to take that knife for you because you didn’t see it comming” thing is basically the foundation for a lot of the relationships depicted in pjo e.g. percy and thalia, annabeth and clarisse, (later) percy and clarisse. and it’s honestly like the hole demigod principle of “yeah you two can hate each other but at the end of the day you’ll be fighting side by side”.

not to forget that both of them are adhd (and are extremely autism coded but ignore that for now) which means surprise surprise!! they’re gonna behave in a way that may seem “over the top” or “extreme” or just “abnormal” to some people (it’s a book about traumatized neurodivergent kids they’re gonna be weird and fucked up)

so yeah…

annabeth is mean to percy, percy is mean to annabeth and they’re both getting off on it. that’s kinda their dynamic i fear

and once again i am involving myself in discussions nobody asked me to be in and which i am probably too old for but hey that’s how the world works!

[ennn]

IF there is a sequel my feelings for the ending would probably change because i expected more character development for agatha but i don’t see it so i just felt like that was so much missing about agatah and agathario

i heard more about their relationship in interviews than actually saw any relationship on screen and there was practically nothing from agatha there. did she ever love rio?i guess it wasn’t important to answer that and rio was just her crazy psycho ex who wouldn’t stop stalking her for centuries, it was a valid writing choice but it felt very underwhelming

Oh yeah a sequel would totally change / help my feelings as well!

That said, I want to address your points you made — not attacking, I just want to break things down:

We did see their relationship on screen, and Agatha having feelings for Rio

We have seen how Agatha and Rio are together, especially alone together. And the way Agatha behaves around Rio isn't like how she behaves around other people. She loses the theatrics, the more obvious lies. Rio reveals a new side to Agatha and vice versa.

Theirs is a bad romance. Fighting and violence is their foreplay – it's a poor substitute but even in ep 8 you do hear them excited to be fighting each other with magic. If you want a ship that's defined mostly by hugs and kisses and domestic bliss this isn't it.

And also keep in mind that the show has always positioned them as exes. They broke apart for a reason. There is bitterness and anger and pain in their relationship. Neither of them are falling in love with each other. Their relationship is interesting because they know each other so well, including the best ways to hurt each other.

In terms of Agatha's interest: We do see Agatha wanting Rio as Agnes inside the spell – a look into how Agatha would probably feel if she didn't remember why they broke up – and we see her emotional look at the end of episode 1 when Rio leaves.

We see Agatha genuinely embracing and wanting to kiss Rio in episode 4, and how she looks at Rio in episode 5 while on they're flying on brooms as well as how they seamlessly did the hexenbesen with each other.

We didn't get Agatha making heart eyes at Rio with the back few eps but it is hard to get into the romantic yearning mood when you're dealing with the reason you broke up with your ex.

The show has only started delving into Rio as character

I really do NOT think the show wants to position Rio as simply Agatha's "her crazy psycho ex stalker" – I believe the show has set up Rio as a complicated character with depth, in broadly the same way Wandavision set Agatha up to be a compelling character.

Anyone who sees Rio as one-dimensional or just a psycho ex is probably the same sort of person who saw Agatha as nothing but a power-hungry witch – which to be fair she still is, but layers baby.

One key challenge is that Rio is set as the season's major episode 7 antagonist reveal as Death. Just like how Agatha was for WV.

This means that until this finale we couldn't really know much about Rio – not beyond a superficial, limited, or vague level. Because it is Rio's identity and role as Death drives her motivation, her pain, and her tragedy history with Agatha.

Agatha lies and Rio is... not a normal human being

If you took what was happening on screen in episode 8 at absolute face value, without considering the other episodes or history of these characters, I can see why people would think Rio's a psycho stalker ex.

But consider:

Rio looks devastated when Agatha makes her choose between seeing her again or Billy – like this is Agatha knowing what kind of arrangement would pain Rio the most; Agatha testing at what point Rio would bend the rules again.

If you consider how Rio hasn't gone back on her word or told a lie on the show to Agatha, you'd expect that Rio will stick by her promise to leave Agatha alone. That's why it's heartbreaking. Agatha would absolutely back out on a deal but not Rio.

When Agatha says "I want you to stop pursuing me, I want you to stop making my life hell" you have to remember this is Agatha who uses words like weapons, who masks and lies all the time. Making the life of such an asshole hell may also not necessarily be a bad thing.

Rio's only on the Road now because they summoned her. She was honouring what she said about giving Agatha time to get her power back in Episode 1 and just watching.

Agatha is literally a manipulative serial killer who is surrounded by death regularly. "Psycho stalker ex" is a label that really needs to be considered in context here.

The show has underlined how Death isn't evil. It comes for us all. It's what we have in common. Part of a natural order. Rio is an antagonist sure, but only a villain depending on which perspective you take or what the circumstances are.

[twilight-deviant]

"are you ready to behave?" oh my god willy PLEASE 😭

I was headcanoning him as gentle and making love~ instead of fucking but yeah, he would be one of those, actually.....

the bleeding? the fire?? holding her face like that and telling her to be a good girl after, what, she tried to kill him? yeah he would be one of those, actually.

but anyway, thanks for the rambling! this should supress my withdrawal symptoms for a long time

(Referencing Fisk with Typhoid Mary from this other ask.)

LOL! 😂 Yeah, I... really like that scene between Fisk and Mary. >o>;

I mean, one of the great things about Fisk, though, is his duality. I think you can make him behave however you want, depending on the scene you set and with which person. Obviously, how he treats Mary (violence is foreplay?) in one instance would never be something he pulls with Vanessa.

Wilson Fisk is genuinely a full spectrum.

[Daredevil (1964) #261]

[Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man (1976) #95]

But even his relationship with Mary has mellowed out a lot in recent years. I don't think it will ever be quite as tender as what he had with Vanessa, but it leans a little more that way than what they had when they first met in Mary's introduction arc. I think what they have now is fun. It can be sweet but also just kinda silly.

[Daredevil (2019) #35]

[Daredevil (2019) #36]

[The Amazing Spider-Man (2022) #42]

"Boop."

One thing's for certain though, Ann Nocenti who wrote for Daredevil during Typhoid Mary's introduction and created her is my hero. (In her time on DD, Nocenti also wrote the creation of characters Blackheart and Bullet, aka: Buck Cashman, whose variant is now being used in the Born Again show.) Love what she did. I think she's maybe? the one writer to put Matt in a rural setting, and I'd love to see something like that again. Also she wrote Matt unknowingly making out with Mephisto (the devil sorta) in a bar, so there's that. Nocenti, I salute you, you mad queen. O7

[ask-sibverse]

"This is torture isnt it?" "Not in the slightest" KillerxReader

tw: violence, blood, Killer being a dumbass

"are you having fun torturing me?" you asked, breathing heavily.

"this isn't torture."

You looked around, just to make sure you weren't going crazy. You were chained to a wall in the dungeon. You were battered, bruised, lost enough blood that your vision was getting fuzzy. "This is torture, isn't it?"

"not in the slightest. It's foreplay!"

You stared at him. "Killer, I'm not a monster. I won't just heal instantly from this with some monster food. Actually I think I'm about to lose consciousness from blood loss."

He panicked. "wait, seriously?! Shit!" He started unchaining you. "Uhhh fuck fuck what do I do??"

"monster food would probably start stabilizing Mr at least, and rest. Dunno if I need a transfusion or something. Maybe some juice. Definitely should clean off the blood though, it doesn't go away like magic does."

He grabbed you and shortcut you both up to his room before rushing off to get a wet wash cloth to start cleaning off the blood, along with some juice. "When you grabbed me like that, I honestly thought you'd finally snapped and were going to kill me," you admitted quietly.

"shit, no, never," Killer said. "I uhh- Dust and I do stuff like that sometimes so I thought-"

You reached up to pet his face. "But you forgot monsters and humans are built differently, right? Humans have a similar foreplay, but there's also some important things called informed consent and asking first."

"Right, I uhh- I forgot I-"

"it's alright Killer, I'm not mad at you." You closed your eyes. "can we cuddle though? I feel so exhausted."

"yeah. Sure, I think that would be great."

[nixie-writes-aot]

Blood Yearned, Blood Earned

Warnings: nsfw, minors dni, blood play, afab reader (fem terms used), mentions of violence/murder, praise, degradation, ownership, possessive behavior, foreplay

Characters: Levi Ackerman

Prompt: No Name Band/Modern AU // Vampire AU

Author's Note: I have not written vamps in a long, long time. First reader insert of this whole damn week, hell yeah. Where did my brand go?

Levi was a simple man, all things considered. He was born and raised in the Underground where a few warm bodies being drained wasn't a call for concern, they were either dead already or low enough in value that no one really saw their deaths as some tragedy. Well, raised was under some debate. More so, Levi raised himself. Regardless, all he strove for was to keep himself fed and high enough in the food chain that there wasn't really anyone who could go against him. Now, coming from the Underground he had expected the same apprehension and common awareness everyone had down there. That wasn't the case, however. It was one of the few things the Underground was ahead of the majority with.

There were certainly some misconceptions that Levi appreciated and encouraged among those within the Scouts. The whole "vampires burn in the daylight" ordeal was one of those. It was simply easier to keep his dirty little secret if those who might become suspicious thought he would burn to a crisp the second the sun shone. Of course, there were other things that Levi couldn't account for. One of those was you.

You were troublesome, to say the least. Normally, Levi had no trouble resisting his urges to sink his fangs into the throat of those who might be missed no matter how pretty they might be but you were different. If Levi was a monster of the night, he was sure you were the day's pretty little priestess. Sometimes, Levi just wanted to grab you by the throat and rip it out. However, that would be far too messy. Too dirty. Beyond that, it meant he could no longer be around you.

For the first time in a long time, Levi found himself properly hunting his "prey" in the methods passed down to him by Kenny the Ripper. More than anything, he found himself entranced. So, when he did finally get you in his grasps? Levi never wanted to let you go.

Levi pressed you against the wall, pressing his lips against your neck. He could hear your blood pumping within your veins, he could feel your pulse against his lips. "I want you." Levi growled, pressing his thigh between your legs as you whimpered, "I want your blood, all over my lips. Can I have that? Will you give me your blood?"

You whined, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. You had known since day one that something was off about Levi and when you learned his strength was tied to his status as one of the monsters the Capital kept a secret in the dark? Part of you was terrified but part of you was also unbelievably turned on by the very idea. "P-please." You whispered, feeling the sharp point of Levi's fangs press against that vein in your neck.

"I would love to start here except the carotid is an artery, you'd bleed out in seconds." Levi groaned, his cock hard and throbbing in his pants, "So," he began, pulling his face away from your throat and grabbing your hand, "I'll start here. I can't just kill my pretty little meal, can I?" You shook your head, stifling a low groan as he sunk his fangs into your wrist. The feeling was immaculate.

Levi knew you would taste good but not nearly as good as you did, piercing your skin and letting the blood drip and gush into his mouth. He moaned at the taste, wanting to fuck you on his cock at the taste. Levi knew he would. He wanted to claim you in every possible way, really. So, Levi trailed his hand downwards and into your pants. He pulled away from your wrist, "You taste fucking good. Lets see how sweeter your blood will taste when I'm fucking your pathetic cunt."

Taglist: @leviweek2023 @yourthoughtsjim

[basuralindo]

You'll Have Me Rise ch.19 is up!

Content warnings for nongraphic discussion of animal death, relatively graphic arachnophobia, mentions of family death and funerals.

Editing by @kamikazequail

And as always, commentary under the cut

-Yeah Jamil just walked straight into that pickup line completely unaware… Jade's never gonna let him live it down, if anyone ever tells him.

-Jade hides his emotions as well as he wants to when he's prepared, but have you noticed he's totally transparent when caught off guard in canon? I think he'd be more obvious than expected if something he wasn't prepared for made him uncomfortable.

-Yugioh voice: "You've activated Jade's special interest! You must stand by and listen to nature facts for a full hour." 

-Yeah Jade totally picked blue for poison specifically because it's such a universally innocuous color

-Jade: "Yeah I got whosits and whatsits galore" *opens door to reveal a horde of roadkill and mold*. Rizz game like no other

-tbh I just love slime mold and wanted to bring up slime molds because they're so fucking cool <3

-Oh btw, another fun psychology thing: If someone has a lot of stressors that they can't control or afford to be afraid of, the repressed terror can manifest as really intense irrational fears to things that are safer to avoid. For example, Jamil can't do anything about his situation and the risks and pressure involved, but he can absolutely obliterate a bug with very little repercussion. I feel like that phenomenon explains the level of fear he has with bugs in canon tbh.

-I also just really love bugs and didn't want Jamil killing them for character accuracy, so I've inserted Jade as protection. 

-I might go into this more in some other post but like, I love the contrast of classic fishtail mermaids in their reef environments vs deep sea monster mermaids. There's just so much room to build on the potential cultures surrounding that.

-Did I need to go on a tangent about mermaid funerals? Will the details ever be plot relevant? Probably not. But hey, world building. (I'm considering Azul keeping a locket with his stepdad's teeth)

-!!! I've been waiting to drop more info about the tweels parents! Anyway, it's a personal headcanon that the twins' social issues developed in response to being involved in mob violence early on. Too much ugliness to handle as kids, and they both kinda broke in opposite ways. Also kinda ties into their unique magic imo: Floyd being expected to handle himself in a fight and needing a defense, and Jade needing a more efficient way to extract info from people. 

-I could go on a whole ramble about my ideas for the Leech parents, but the short of it is that I think Jade and Floyd each picked up some personality quirks from the parent they were around more, but mostly developed emotional responses to balance out each parent's behavior (ie: reserved, observant, and meticulous in response to unpredictable emotional outbursts, vs emotional instability and exaggerated emotional reactions in response to emotional neglect and under-reactivity), hence the two comparing each other to opposite parents last time it was brought up. It also resulted in them balancing out each other's dispositions, leading to the kinda codependent dynamic they have as adults. I think they'd both feel like they specifically came out wrong as a result too. Like, Floyd believing he should be more pragmatic and levelheaded like Jade (like his mom wanted), and Jade feeling like he's too far gone and distant to connect with other people the way Floyd does.

-Mind games can be a form of foreplay, if you're tedious enough.

-I think Jade and Jamil would have similar ways of showing insecurity, Jamil's just more flexible about it. Jade, meanwhile, has ensured a position where he doesn't have to relinquish control unless he chooses to

-Will these people ever make out with Jamil in a normal location? The world may never know.

[bohemian-nights]

What upsets me the most is how Daemyra stans sexualized Daemon choking Rhaenyra, and then claimed that she wasn't phased by it. It's like are ya'll, sorry but for lack of a better term, retarded?! Did ya'll not see the look on her face when he was choking and after he finished choking her!?! Homegirl went 5 stages of grief throughout that whole thing. First she was shocked, then she was confused, and then she was freaking terrified. You could even see her lips quivering. Hell, Ryan Condal said that she was terrified! Sure she laughed in his face , but she was laughing at the realization that he was never he father's true heir. That doesn't mean that she brushed it off. Did they miss the part where she was rubbing her neck afterward?

What also pisses me off is how they justify Daemon abandoning her during her horrific stillbirth, and go on a tangent about how "traumatized" he is from childbirth and how he's preparing for the war. First of all: fuck his trauma! What trauma does Daemon have when he's the one going around and traumatizing all of the women in life! He called Rhea everything but her name, he used Mysaria for his games nearly getting her killed and then slut-shaming her, he treated Laena like 2nd best, he groomed Rhaenyra since childhood and left her with abandonment and attachment issues. If anyone has trauma from childbirth it's Rhaenyra! Her mother's death is the catalyst as to why she resents being a woman and suffers from gender envy.

So I ask again what trauma does he have that excuses his abandonment of her at that moment? And then walks away after seeing her cradle their dead baby, and then is glaring at her during the funeral pyre, and then glares at her when she gets crowned. He then spends the rest of the episode treating her like an idiot child who doesn't know what she's doing and then chokes her. But sure he's the one we should feel sorry for. Not to mention let's not even talk about how he exploited her trauma in 1x04 in order to get her to to be more susceptible to him so he could use her to get back at Viserys, and almost get her disinherited.

See, Dumbnyra stans will not answer these questions. When you ask them to explain their logic they literally start crying saying the show isn't canon(lol they were the main ones loving the show until the finale) and then threaten to block you.

The facts are Daemon had no excuse to be making war plans while Rhaenyra almost died. If he was actually traumatized like how they try to claim, he would’ve been in the room with her making sure that she was alright. They had Rhaenys there. She could’ve handled things for a while, but nope. Daemon did what Daemon wanted without a care for anybody except Daemon(well he was emotional because his first and so far only love just died, but yeah he definitely wasn’t concerned over Rhaenyra).

That choking scene(which happened after she just gave birth so the fact that they really thought they were gonna f*ck when her vagina just pushed out a dead fetus 🤢) wasn’t foreplay. That was domestic violence. You don’t do what he did to the woman you love

This ship is a hot mess(he might not have choked her in the books but he still left her to become dragon food when she was losing what was left of her sanity).

The fandom who stans said ship is a hot delusional mess that needs Jesus or a self-help book at the very least. They wanted Rhaenyra to change Daemon that didn't happen so now they've taken to deluding themselves that it somehow did.

They can claim what they like, but the only thing that supports what they say are the voices in their head.

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

2 20 & 33 4 locust!

2! scars & how he got them.

.. ykw im gonna just put. all of this under a cut Locust is a survivor of one of theeeee most physically and uh . sexually abusive situations i have for an oc, being one of the Skeptîîcs cullees... proceed with. so much caution

uh. yeah he has a lot of scars, from cuts to burns to bites to bruises to... yeah he has. he has a lot of scars. uh there are two groups of his scars, ones from him, and the other group. The ones that are self inflicted are usually burn scars from the metal in his mask, heated up to press into his skin for pain. his gloves, before he was allowed to take them off, meant his claws couldnt. yknow. and his teeth are dull herbivore style and locked behind a mask during his worst times, and his horns have been dull for. . pretty much his whole relevant life. he has several overlapping bite scars on the spot between his left shoulder and his neck, claw marks on his flanks and thighs, and some bladed marks on his arms and stomach. those partially overlap with his slurryspaying scars. he caused none of these, of course. just the burns. . Orcata and Lanius are semiregularly tortured by Quefim Quartz so uh. retaliatory violence! they get some of their own medicine...

20 ! self destructive habits! yes. its mostly isolated to different headmates, though. for example, Plague is. . mostly self destruction by volume. theyre kind of . full tilt manic energy and their only uh non self destructive habit is spewing wack shit. otherwise theyre slamming their head into a wall. Solitarious is pretty obvious, their headmate nickname is literally the name of their bad habit, isolation. Similar to Plague, F⁴ is kind of cornered animal core, though Plague is preemptive, a kind of find the biggest guy there and stab him kind of scared, that is, Plague seeks out altercations to comfory themself, F⁴ is reactionary by comparison. like Solitarious, F⁴ is just. Named for the habits more or less, though i wouldnt say its really a self destructive tendency because of the fact that theyre reactionary. theyre named for fear responses after all, fight flight freeze fawn, f⁴. I would say technically speaking Locusts pica is also kind of a self destructive habit. i mean it is a coping mechanism, and eating rocks isnt... great for you. oh yeah also everything with monarch. like just kind of all of it. the uhh like trauma seeking yk? the "hey monarch can you tell me to kill myself again" thing is pretty squarely self destructive.

33 ruinous sentence...

hmmm. i think probably itd have to have a lot of preamble, uh. foreplay if you will, stuff to set it up for a violent reaction. Theres obviously stuff like saying that actually his life situation is going to go back to how it used to be or worse or something but thats kind of cheating imo. i think it would be something pale as hell. its the sappy kind of ruining. but yeah. something that through insinuation refutes some horrible foregone conclusion that locust has. maybe it could be something . body worshipy. this is kind of straight up kink talk for locust who is both a minor and heavily sexually traumatized, but i dont think it would be sexual for him, hes just not a sexual beast for a number of reasons biological and psychological, i guess more of a pale kink. shrugs. still dont really like talking about it due to the . gestures at him. little guy-ness of it all. i just think Locust is Weak to praise, esp praise aimed at parts of them they see as love irrelevant. a lot less the self harm and a lot more the slurryspaying. the household of tirent is pretty eugenicsy obviously he fucking sterilizes his kids like hes cosplaying a fucking american asylum who treats any amount of minorities. but yeah. i think Locust has a lot of deeply ingrained im-less-person-than-you ness in him. like. a lot of foregone conclusion dehumanization. i think thatd be a good target if you wanted to permanently alter their brain chemistry.

[swampstew]

𝔸𝕥 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat next to the log fireplace as we begin this in-progress, spicy/smutty reader insert story starring YOU (AFAB Reader) and the Kid Pirates. Powerade and snacks are provided! You can find links to the mini-series on Wattpad and AO3 at the end of the post.

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for mature audiences only. Spicy start and violence/torture.

The sound of wet squelching echoed in the air along the beat of slapping skin on skin. Gasps for air, moaning and raspy groaning breaking through like a chorus, the instruments of bodies thrusting into each other pulling forth a cacophony of high-pitched praises.

“Ooooohh Kid! Killer! Fuuuuck you’re both too big,” Y/N wailed, tears streaming down her face as the two chuckled and fucked her faster.

“Poor thing, think we wiped her out, Kill,” Kid grunted out, roughly gripping her ass in his right hand as he bucked up sharply into her throbbing pussy. Y/N let out another cry of pleasure.

“Tsk, we’ve only been at it for like 56 minutes,” Killer tutted, almost disappointed. Killer stilled his thrusting and without warning, lifted Y/N’s hips and rapidly pulled her flush down on to Kid, holding her down while Kid’s body jerked.

“Watch it! Not ready to cum yet,” Kid growled, pulling Y/N down to cover his chest. His arm held her down just above her waist. Killer spread her ass cheeks wide open and pushed his heavy cock back in place. While Killer drilled into Y/N, Kid focused on kissing her puffy lips, biting them and her neck as he gave her long, slow strokes of his cock.

“Hnnnnooohhhh,” she whined, “Kid please, it feels so good!”

“Does it feel good or am I too big? Make up your mind!”

“Itsss boooooth! You-you’re gonna tear me apart if you keep taking me at the same time!”

“Shut up, no we won’t. That’s what the foreplay and aftercare is for,” Killer bent his mask into her back and he started thrusting faster.

He wasn’t lying and they weren’t idiots. They knew they were well endowed and big, strong freaks. While Y/N possessed great endurance to the men’s sexual impulses, they also knew that they would probably still break her body if they didn’t prepare her for what they had to offer.

That thoughtfulness extended to aftercare. They always checked her for signs of internal injury, treating any wounds and then providing her with comfort, food, and company for a little bit after their escapades. That’s how it’d been for the last few weeks of sailing.

“I think she need’s one more big orgasm to knock all the stupid shit outta her mouth,” Kid’s face broke into a sneer.

“Copy that Captain.”

Kid brought his hand down to Y/N’s clit and began rubbing fast circles on her while Killer pressed against her back, hands cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples.

“Ahhhrckk!” she panted. “I-I-I can’t I ha-have to—”

The words died in her throat, the white-hot feeling in her lower belly shooting fire through her veins and feeling impossibly hot, causing her voice to simply cease. Killer and Kid drilled into her without mercy, their own ends drawing nearer as they slammed into her body.

Both men could feel her muscles fluttering, clamping, and pulsing. It was going to fling them over the edge.

Y/N threw her head back forcefully, slamming into Killer’s chest as she let out a voiceless scream. Her body clenched down tightly, causing the pirates to groan in unison. Killer came after her, bottoming out in her ass and rutting his hips without rhythm as he came, his hands still squeezing Y/N’s breasts.

Kid, ever the stamina beast, kept pistoning into Y/N even after Killer pulled out. Kid switched positions and threw Y/N on her back on the mattress, filling her pulsing hole once more and fucking into her.

“K-K-Kid,” Y/N let out a raspy whisper, “It’s tooooo mu-much,” she whined.

“Yeah? Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m almost there. I’ll give you one more, for being my good girl,” he kissed her lips.

Hitching her legs over his waist, flesh hand and prosthetic gripping her thighs up, he began to fuck her with long, precise strokes; hitting the spot that had her vision going spotty.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck,” Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Yeah that’s right sweetheart, ooooohh fuuuuuck,” Kid grinned, sweat running down his face. The way she looked on the verge of passing out from pleasure, her walls fluttering on him more and more. His strokes became faster, rubbing his tip directly on her g-spot.

“OH FUUUUCK,” Kid groaned and bit his lip, burying himself to the hilt and bucking his hips sloppily, coaxing his release.

“Aaaaaahhhh ffuuuuccck!!” Y/N let out a final cry, her pussy gripping Kid tightly as she rode the waves of overstimulated pleasure, her body taking a static like buzz from her nth orgasm. The effect rippled to Kid and he came, shooting ropes of pleasure inside her. His hips stuttered to a stop as he finished spilling into her.

Fiery red hair plastered to his scalp and forehead, Kid’s face hovered over Y/N’s chest as he panted.

“Bath or shower?” his golden eyes finally lifted to hers.

“Mmmm bath,” she slurred.

“Want me or Killer to lifeguard?”

“Boooooth.”

“Tsk, so selfish. You’re lucky we cleared our schedule off to indulge your pretty little desires.”

Y/N cast him a disapproving glance, “I do plenty for you both.” Killer let out a dark chuckle before walking to the bathroom to run the water.

Since the day they had infiltrated her guarded secrets, they had become significantly more generous with her. Killer no longer feared that she was a Marine or enemy pirate rival spy sent to undermine them. While still puzzled over her background, he grew to appreciate the strong woman Kid picked up on that one daft island.

Making great company, he often found he could vent to her about shit that bothered him and she never judged him or invalidated his feelings. She just…listened. Didn’t try to interject anecdotes or superficial sentiments about his issues. Gave him a simple nod, offered advice if asked, and told him he was free to talk to her whenever he wanted. She knew a kickass pasta recipe and then some too. Y/N would also seek Killer out whenever he found time to play the drums, laying down in the room and tapping her foot to the beat with her eyes closed.

Kid felt like he found a rare treasure. Laid back hot chick who was a little unhinged, could handle her own shit, intimately knew all of life’s little pleasures, and who made him feel like he was…The Captain Kid. She treated him with respect to his position and didn’t try to do weird or frilly shit with him and Killer like past lovers had. It was only behind closed doors that she became vulnerable to him, with him.

He shared some of his hobbies with her and was internally thrilled that she liked spending time in his workshop. Y/N told him she came from a background in blacksmithing and was no stranger to refining and enhancing weapons. She even helped him improve and polish some of the crew’s storage of weapons too. Kid was delighted to find out she knew how to wield weapons well too and would on occasion, make her indulge him in betting pools where she fought against the crew with chosen weapons. She had only lost to Killer and himself – whether that was intentional on her part or not, he had no clue – and that excited him.

“Besides only one of you is good at washing my hair,” she pouted, stretching under Kid.

“Excuuuuuse meee, princess,” Kid rolled his eyes as he pulled out, reaching his flesh arm to scratch the top of his back, stifling a yawn.

Y/N eyed him for a minute before taking a deep breath, “The two of you have been…cooler towards me recently. What changed?”

Kid shrugged, “You came out of your shell more? Started seeking us out for our company?”

“No you know what I’m talking about,” she covered herself with the sheet.

“I’m serious. We were ready to kick you off but then you just seemed more at ease with us. Wire and Heat said you took charge during a snag in the plans and saved one of my men from a shameful death at that one island and since then you’ve been more active with the crew and shit. You spend more time with me than you do with Killer. You’re with us longer than we all expected since you haven’t found your little clues to whatever the fuck you’re looking for. Is it possible that you…want to be part of the crew? That you might even like being around us?” He smirked at her, hoping he didn’t give himself away.

“I still have my own plans,” Y/N scoffed but didn’t deny anything Kid said. “But you all aren’t bad to be around.”

“Sure ya do.”

It was late afternoon when they came upon an inhabited island. Kid and Killer did their traditional survey of the area to root out enemies while the crew did their own shit, finding bars or whatever fit their fancy. Y/N had departed with the crew so they assumed she had stayed with them. However, by the time the Supernovas had found the bar the crew had taken over, they realized she was not among them.

So they waited.

And waited.

…

The bar didn’t dare close on the Kid Pirates but after midnight Kid was seething and left anyways.

“Where the fuck did she go?!?!?!”

Killer and Kid kicked down the door to the women’s cabin, making Y/N jump from her position on the floor. She was laid out with her massive map in front of her with an open journal and her various inking tools, a half-eaten fruit bowl next to her.

“Knock much?”

Kid was flushed from exertion and anger. “You never showed up at the bar!!”

“I didn’t know I was expected there.”

Kid blinked. Then he looked at Killer who shrugged at him.

“We didn’t tell her to stay with the crew or meet us there,” the masked man sighed.

“So you’ve been here the whole night?”

“Mostly. Grabbed dinner before I came back. Hey, will we be passing by this region?” She pointed to a spot on the map.

Kid’s eyes snapped to Killer who eagerly dropped to the ground to inspect the map.

“Sort of, our heading is more North but we generally explore every island we come across. Seems like a reasonable detour, what do you think Kid?”

Kid held his stance before stomping over to where Y/N was and sat cross legged on the floor. He grunted an affirmative.

“There you go. Found a clue?”

“I did,” she smirked. “How would you rate your experience in the torture department?”

Kid blinked again, “On the receiving end or…?”

“Being the ones to dish out the torture,” Y/N popped a piece of fruit in her mouth.

The Captain exchanged a glance with his First Mate before a sinister grin grew on his face. “We can do your detour. So, who are we torturing?”

“An old coworker.”

Killer let out a chortle, “We were under the impression you worked alone.”

“Not always.”

The two men deadpanned her.

Sighing, “Once upon a time, this sweetheart princess turned to merc work.”

Kid’s eyes widened, as did Killer’s. Their brief overview of her journals had not revealed this.

“I wondered how you were so proficient in fighting and shit,” Kid mused.

“Mmmhhhhmm���Anyways, the person I’m looking for got me acquainted with the first of many who fucked me over. Figured my best shot at finding those bastards is by nailing this bastard. He’s incredibly sweet on me and won’t take me seriously so that’s where you two come in.”

Neither man liked the sound of her soon-to-be-dead coworker.

It took them a week but they found the coworker. Landing on the coordinates Y/N had given, the Kid Pirates discovered an inhabited island that seemed innocent enough. On the surface.

The whole thing was a sham. A sort of peaceful existence governed by a shadow group. Rogue mercenaries took the town hostage and ran it to their whims. None of that mattered to Y/N or the crew.

Kid and Killer were mesmerized by her. She executed an extraction and diversion team to weed out and find her target. Some of the crew were to start a commotion outside the front of the building in order to garner attention and maybe attract heavy muscle from the targeted building. Cause a big enough disturbance that would have Y/N’s target be moved to an isolated area. Kid, Killer, and Heat followed her lead as she snuck behind the back of the building and began scaling the side. Once on the fourth story, she shimmied the ledge of the building to inch close to a blacked out, sliding glass door. She waved at Kid.

The Captain stood front and center and used his power to rip all the available metal in and around the building. While the occupants were in a panic, Heat began spitting fire to disarm, burn, and send the small fries unknowingly towards Killer’s blades. Kid also used his power to repel the metal right back, battering anyone still around. After the first assault, Y/N dashed into the shattered threshold and after a minute called out to Killer.

“CATCH!”

Thrown from the fourth floor came a slender but muscular man who was knocked out cold and bleeding from the head. Then a safe was pushed off the ruined ledge. Killer caught him and the safe with ease. The Kid Pirates left the island in chaos as they set sail with their prizes.

The unconscious man woke up in the ship’s prison cell, tied to a chair with only Y/N in his direct line of sight. His head lolled as he took in his surroundings before he focused on her. Then he laughed.

“You little fucking bitch.”

“Hey Gaston. Long time, no see.”

“If I would have known you would cause me this much trouble, I would have left your ungrateful, starving ass in that prison cell.”

“ME? I’M THE PROBLEM?” she smacked him across the face. “I followed every order, every mission. All I asked for was my severance package like you promised me. 5 years and I was OUT. I THOUGHT we were GOOD. I didn’t think for a single second that you would set me up with your pal and that the two of you would scheme to RIP ME OFF!” she smacked him again.

“That’s on me for being naïve. I’ve grown up.”

The man named Gaston leered at her from his seat, “Yeah guess so. Got prettier too. Lean on that a bit? To survive this long?”

Y/N punched him in the face. His broken nose was a gory mess on his face, dripping blood all over himself and the floor.

“I did things I wouldn’t tell my parents about sure, but never that. Anyways, you’re here for one reason and one reason only. Tell me where I can find your shitty little partner.”

“Suck me off first,” Gaston spat on the floor.

“Thought you might say that. So I’ve requested help from experienced veterans. This is Captain Kid and Massacre Soldier Killer. They’ll be your torturers this evening until you give me everything.”

Gaston’s eyes widened in horror and his already pale face became white as a ghost sheet. “Th-th-the Kid Pirates?!”

“Aye, that’s right,” Kid growled, a sneer on his face. “Word on the street is, you fucked with my doll. By extension that means you fucked with me.”

“Wait a minute!” the man gasped. “My issues with that cunt have nothing to do with you! I haven’t SEEN her in 8 years!”

“8 years, 13 years, 17 years, time doesn’t matter to me,” Kid’s eyes shined in the light. “I love torturing people; I don’t need a special occasion or reason for it.”

The silence in the hull of the ship was shattered with inhuman shrieking and sobbing for hours. Sometimes gruff yelling broke the screaming, lull moments of tense silence with a ruffle of pages being flipped – then the shrieking would begin again.

In the end, Y/N had a page of her journal filled with names, islands, and coordinates. She asked the pirates for a smoke break while she checked some information out and left the prison cell while Kid and Killer took a moment to wash their hands and drink a little.

“Well, this took an unexpected turn,” Killer quipped.

“I know! I’m super fucking into it! I’ll rip apart anyone she wants limb by limb.”

“Yeah, guess she’s finally ok with letting us in. Think she’ll let us witness how she finishes off the others?”

Kid eyed Killer with a hopeful look in his golden orbs, “Fuck, I hope she asks us to join her when she does.”

They made their way back to the prison cell, stopping in the threshold as they observed the scene before them. Y/N was crouched down on the balls of her feet holding a bloody dagger in her hand. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared at Gaston who was twitching sporadically. A puddle of blood was running down the floor towards the drainage holes.

“Y/N?” Killer called out to her, getting no response.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Kid tried to get her attention, to no avail. She didn’t acknowledge either of them with a glance or word, simply lifting a finger to her lips to silence them. After another minute, Gaston’s body stopped moving. Y/N slowly rose to her feet, her eyes still transfixed on the dead man.

“Two minutes and twenty-three seconds,” she whispered to herself repeatedly, committing it to memory.

Kid walked up to her and gently cupped her chin, tilting her face to look at him.

“I know where to go next,” she said softly, reaching up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Thank you for your help.”

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 13 - Trouble [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Fights can be inevitable.

Series Masterlist

Oh God damn it.

This mission was not supposed to include anything from your real life, and it certainly was not supposed to include your real life ex-boyfriend.

Not only was this going to make things very, very complicated, it also put the entire operation in danger. No part of the background that was specifically created for your cover had any details on your ex relationships and you didn’t think you would have to come up with something now.

Well. For what it was worth, you weren’t the one who came up with it.

“Just joking man. I’m her ex-boyfriend but no worries, I pose no danger.”

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with an answer and you heaved a sigh, trying to control the anger bubbling in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “Yeah, we used to—um, we used to date.”

Bucky frowned, “Didn’t you say you moved here two months ago?”

“I did move here two months ago.”

“We used to date back in Oregon,” Julian explained and Bucky huhed.

“Yet here you are.”

“Yeah you know, the big apple,” Julian motioned around you, “I just got a job here and I figured I could come and see Y/N. Small town people have to look out for each other, you see.”

You gritted your teeth, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“She took you there yet?” Julian asked Bucky “Cannon Beach?”

“No,” you answered on his behalf and Julian clicked his tongue.

“I guess you could take him with you when you visit next month,” he said, “Surely you are visiting next month?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Come on, no way.” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s sand castles contest time, you love that contest!”

Right.

Julian had always been the best at playing the civilian and memorizing the back story of any cover. He was great at lying and that was why every mission you had gone on with him was that easy, he could fool anyone.

Including you.

“She came in fourth place two years ago, she made this dragon castle, you should’ve seen it.” He told Bucky, and you rolled your eyes.

Fourth place.

Easy enough to make someone believe, hard enough to find a trace of on the internet.

Julian was an asshole for sure, but he was a great spy and now you were beginning to remember why though every mission with him was a success, you had still avoided it even before your break up.

This was what he did, he took over every single assignment, no matter who was the leader.

Not this time. This was your mission and your mission only.

“Y/N, did you….” Julian let out a chuckle, “Did you tell him about the time your grandma caught us at the—“

“It was good so see you,” you cut him off, glaring at him “But you should probably go now, I’m kind of busy.”

Julian paused only for a moment before holding up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Okay,” he said, “It was nice to see you too. Again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was nice to meet you Bucky,” he said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

He walked away from you and you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning your head back to the wall.

“Fuck this shit,” you murmured under your breath without even realizing it wasn’t something your cover would say, and opened your eyes to look up at Bucky.

“Was he bothering you or something?” he asked you and you scoffed.

“Please,” you muttered but then pulled yourself together. “He’s not…that type no. Just annoying, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—“

“No,” you shook your head fervently, “No, please don’t. It’s fine, it’s just— who he is.”

How dare he?

How dare he try to take over your mission? You had put so much thought into this, coming up with multiple strategies, trying to convince yourself that-

That you were doing the right thing. Even if you felt yourself getting lost in this cover, it didn’t mean that Julian could swoop in and take this over as if you were a rookie agent in need of help.

This whole assignment belonged to you, not to anyone else.

If you were going to betray Bucky’s trust and feel like the most terrible person in the world, the least you could do was not let Julian take the credit.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you attempted to change the subject and Bucky tilted his head.

“Come on Y/N, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You don’t have to pretend like it’s fine,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you don’t have to pretend, ever.”

Okay, this was too much. You could almost feel your defenses going up, the whole hangover and stress and anger and now Bucky being able to tell you were faking something, it was all getting the best of you and if you weren’t careful, you would say something you would regret later.

“I’m sorry?”

“I just,” he took a deep breath, “Sometimes you’re like…too good to be true, you know? And Sam has this theory that you’re—you’re somehow you’re doing this for me or the people around you but you don’t have to.”

“You think I’m pretending?” you asked, your voice coming out way too defensive for your own cover but you could hardly care.

You were slipping, and you didn’t have the luxury to slip. It seemed to take Bucky by surprise because for the first time since you had met, you were-

Aggressive. That was the word. Less like your cover and more like your real self.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said and you let out a bitter chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah,” you said, “Okay. I’m kind of busy you see, I have so much to do at the shop so I should probably go back inside.”

“Y/N—“ he started but you pushed yourself off the wall.

“No it’s fine,” you managed to say, “This is me not pretending, for the record. I’ll see you later I guess.”

With that, you walked past him and went back to the milkshake shop, fury still poisoning your insides.

                                                 ***

You could hardly wait until you could go back to the base. Even though you thought that by then you would have calmed down, that didn’t seem to be the case.

You were fucking good at your job, and you were going to prove it to anyone and everyone. Without any help.

“Is he here yet?” you asked Chloe who rushed to greet you as soon as you stepped out of the elevator into the base and she cleared her throat.

“Who?”

“Don’t even, I know you heard what happened,” you cut her off and she shifted her weight.

“Yeah. I read his report.”

“Exactly. Where is he?”

“Okay, before I tell you where he is I feel like it’s important that you remember we’re not supposed to kill our own agents,” she said, “The paper work is a nightmare.”

“Where is he?”

“Keith says it’s considered rude to kill your team members.”

“Chloe,” you looked her in the eye “Where is he?”

She heaved a sigh, “In the training room.”

“Great, more weapons to use,” you muttered as you walked away from her to walk downstairs to the training room. Anger was pulsing through your veins and you kicked the door open, making the pair currently trying to hit each other stop.

“Get out,” you nodded at the other agent and Julian let out a small chuckle before he wiped his face with the towel. The agent rushed out of the room and you narrowed your eyes at Julian.

“You look upset,” he commented, “Want to exercise it out of your system?”

“What the fuck was that?”

Julian uncapped his water bottle to take a huge sip. “Come on, I saw an opening-“

“You made that opening,” you cut him off, “And crossed the line.”

“Oh please,” he waved a hand in the air, “It worked out perfectly fine.”

You could barely control your voice now, “You almost blew my fucking cover!”

“I would never,” he said, “Trust me, if anything I did you a favor.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms, “A favor?”

“Yeah. Guys love competition, an ex-boyfriend being in the picture will even speed up the process.”

“This is my mission.” You said through your teeth, “You don’t get to make spontaneous decisions without running them by me first.”

“When was the last time you had a proper fight?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You always get cranky if you haven’t had a good challenge in a while,” he stated, “A good fight. I take it your boyfriend doesn’t tire you out enough?”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you and you let out a small chuckle.

“You couldn’t tire me out if you tried.”

He tilted his head, “Is that a promise?”

You shot him a look and lunged but he easily dodged you, scowling.

“Come on Y/N,” he taunted you, “I won’t hold back, you shouldn’t either.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t hold back.” you grinned at him and darted to grab at him but he twisted your hand to push you back, making your back hit the wall. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and jumped to wrap your legs around his neck, spinning in the air to shove him to the ground. As soon as you both fell, you straddled him and pulled the dagger out of your boots to raise it and slam it to the ground right next to his head. A sly grin pulled at his lips as if he was having the time of his life.

“Look at you babe,” he said, “You got even better.”

You were very, very aware of the position you had both found yourself in. You used to find this whole thing hot, it was like foreplay to you. Mock fighting, training, all of it -especially with Julian- it used to be your second favorite activity.

Now, all you could think about was just how much more fun it would be with Bucky.

Maybe Julian was right. Maybe you were just a wild card.

A smirk curled your lips and you leaned in slightly to lock your eyes with his, looking down at him.

“My mission,” you growled. “Not yours. The next time you try to control what’s mine, I won’t be so nice.”

You pushed the dagger into your boot again and got off of him before storming out of the training room, still trying to keep your anger in check.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

                                               ***

No matter what you did for the rest of the evening, it just wasn’t enough to calm you down. Now to think of it, it wasn’t even completely about Julian and his nonsense, it was because—

You didn’t want Bucky to think you were pretending, even if you were.

Just because it was a cover, didn’t mean your reactions and the happiness you felt with him was fake as well. But he could still tell something was off— Sam could still tell something was off despite your best efforts.

Great.

You poured wine into your glass and changed the channel, trying to decide whether you should go and bug Keith or not. You heaved a sigh and tore your eyes from the screen to lean your head back, nibbling on your lip.

Dealing with feelings was much more difficult than taking down a target.

You groaned to yourself and took a huge sip of your wine, but before you could grab your phone you heard the doorbell ring. Your head shot up and you grabbed your gun to walk to the door, but as soon as you looked through the peephole to avoid yet another mistake like actually opening the door to Julian, you froze.

Bucky.

….Fuck.

“Um- just a second!” you called out before rushing to your room to hide your gun, then quickly looked around the apartment to see if there was anything that could tip him off. Overall, it looked perfectly civilian and you ran a hand over your face to pull yourself together.

Your cover was supposed to be angry at him.

You threw your shoulders back and walked to the door to open it, then leaned sideways to the doorframe, your lips pulled into a slight pout.

“Hi,” you murmured and his gaze lingered on your shorts and flimsy tank top before he looked away for a moment.

Ah.

Compared to 1940s, it was almost the same as you opening the door in your underwear.

“Hey,” he said and held up a small box of bagels. “Listen, I know you’re angry but um…I was hoping we could talk?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Keith’s door opening and he stepped out but as soon as he caught the sight of Bucky on your doorstep, his eyes widened and he froze. He quickly fixed his jacket so that it would cover his gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans and gawked at you.

“What the fuck?” he mouthed and you got momentarily distracted, causing Bucky to follow your gaze over his shoulder to Keith.

And Keith, the badass spy, probably the only spy in the whole division who could give you a hard time in a fight, whom you had seen take down five armed soldier by himself with no weapons-

He waved at Bucky.

“Hi- hi neighbor,” he stammered as he turned to you and you shot him a forced smile.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for the cookies, I was going to bring you your plate the other day,” he said, “Do you need it now?”

Translation: Do you need back up?

“No, no,” you shook your head, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“Alright then. See you later.”

You cleared your throat and took the box from Bucky.

“Come in,” you turned around to walk to the living room, hearing him close the door behind him. It didn’t take him long to step into the living room and his eyes darted around as if trying to take in as much as he could. You figured it was natural, homes always gave clues about who their owners were.

Not to mention, as an ex-assassin he was automatically finding the nearest exits and things to use as weapons.

You would know. You did the same thing whenever you were in a new place.

You peeked into the box and frowned.

“What is this?”

“To be honest with you, I have no idea,” Bucky admitted, “It’s supposed to be a bagel. I just asked the guy to give me the most modern and weirdest combination.”

“Is this—is this glitter?”

“He said it was edible glitter, yeah. With lavender and cheese with honey.”

“Why is there two of them?”

He put his hands into his pockets. “I figured I could try one.”

You blinked a couple of times, “You want to try a lavender cheese honey bagel with edible glitter.”

Even the sound of it seemed to be painful for him but he pressed his lips together and nodded fervently. “Mm hm.”

You tried to stop the smile threatening to warm your face and put the box on the coffee table before looking up at him.

“Bucky, listen—“

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, “That comment back there, it was so uncalled for.”

You crossed your arms, “Why did you say that though?” you asked, “Is that—is that what you think?”

“No,” he shook his head fervently, “Of course not.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know if I can give an explanation without it sounding incredibly weird to you.”

“Try me.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said “It’s like— the way you are, it’s like someone somehow looked into my whole life back in 40s before everything and saw every single detail of what I wanted and made you.”

Yeah. That was exactly what you and the division had done.

“I’m not used to…” he motioned at you, “This. It’s like you’re too good to be true, like you’re perfect, does that make sense?”

A dull pain flipped your stomach and you stared up at him, trying to ignore your throat tightening before you went to sit down on the couch.

“I’m not,” you rasped out, “I’m not perfect. You’ll see it sooner or later.”

That right there was as honest as you could be with him. You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed the wine glass to take a huge sip as he sat down beside you, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m sorry too,” you said, “It was an overreaction, it’s just… Julian’s effect on me.”

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds as if he had no idea how to approach the topic.

“Rough break up?”

“You could say that,” you scoffed a laugh, looking down at your glass, “I mean….you think you know a person, right? And they have no problem with proving you otherwise, prove that you didn’t know them at all. They—they betray your trust and everything was a lie all along and—“

And just like that, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, making you stop talking.

You were doing exactly the same. It was just another version of the betrayal you had seen from Julian, and you were doing the same thing to Bucky.

He thought he knew you, and you would prove him otherwise, and betray his trust and walk away when this mission was over. In fact, by the time it was over, he would hate you even more than you hated Julian.

You cursed under your breath and took another sip of your wine, trying to ease the crushing guilt making you feel almost breathless.

“Sorry,” you managed to say, “I didn’t mean to unleash it on you, I just don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“I could pay him a visit if you want?”

You pulled your brows together, distracted for a moment before you tilted your head to the side.

“What?”

“To warn him to stay away from you.”

“Uh, I appreciate the chivalry,” you said, “But I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he pointed out, “It’s just the old-fashioned thing.”

“Oh the old-fashioned thing?” you repeated with a smile and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said, “You know, taking care of my girl.”

You thought your heart would leap out of your throat as the warmth spread through you before the idea of betraying him hit you once again. The words felt like they were trying to escape from your mouth, the urge to come clean getting heavier and heavier before you leaned in to brush your lips against his, making him wrap his arms tight around you to pull you closer. You settled in his embrace, the back of your eyes burning but you blinked a couple of times to get rid of tears. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked and he smiled, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Sure thing,” he said and nodded at the TV screen, “What is this movie about?”

“I don’t know, it has cars and criminals,” you said, the guilt making you feel almost nauseous, “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

He would never understand what your confession actually meant, but you felt as if you would choke if you didn’t say it.

“I like who I am when I’m with you.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest before he reached out to caress your cheekbone.

“Makes two of us darling,” he murmured, “I like who I am when I’m with you too.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you bit inside your cheek to control yourself, sniffling inaudibly before you closed your eyes, enjoying his warmth.

Chapter 14

[feelin-woozy]

B, H, I, X, Y, Z, V For Stu? Only do your favs if it’s too much <3

Also for X what if with a masc dom partner that cross dressed??? 🥴👀

Dirty A-Z headcanon game

NSFW under the cut! No minors <3

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?) 

Loves it. Both giving and receiving depend on Stu's mood. Stu would be good at tying knots and restraining you, but he wouldn't be the best at intricate ties. He would love it if you did some more intricate ties on him. Forces to slow down and be at your mercy.

H - Humiliation (does degradation and insults get them hot? do they get off on humiliating someone else? what kind of humiliation is good for them?) 

Loves humiliating you. It could be situational humiliation or verbal, he doesn't really care too much, but Stu absolutely gets off on humiliating you. He will take it too far sometimes, too, don't expect a genuine apology. It will be lowkey manipulative unless he wants something from you, then he'll play it up and make it more genuine. Don't be fooled, though.

He doesn't really like to be humiliated; he's got emasculation issues.

I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.) 

Oh yeah. Violence turns him on full stop. Prefers to give but isn't against receiving, he just has to be in the right mood to have violence inflicted upon him.

V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?) 

I think he likes watching and being watched. Totally grew up staring through people's windows with binoculars LMAO. But fucking in public gets him going; he loves knowing anyone could see. From both a humiliation aspect as well as an act of possession.

The only time he'd be ok with seeing someone fuck you, though, would be a poly Ghostface scenario. That's the only time he'd be into cucking. He's way too possessive for that to work with anyone else. But God, watching Billy fuck you would turn him on a lot. On the same note, having Billy watch him fuck you would also drive him nuts.

X-dressing (do they crossdress as a part of teasing / foreplay? does crossdressing turn them on? turn their partner on? do they prefer to do it or watch their partner crossdress instead? do they use other costumes? cat ears, tails, etc?) 

He's totally into it. I think Stu is pretty lax in what he'll allow in the bedroom, especially if you accommodate his unconventional desires. If you're amab/masc presenting and want to wear some lacey lingerie or a skirt/dress, you don't have to worry about him making you feel ashamed. He's all for it.

Stu is all over the idea of submitting for you while you're dolled up. He would beg for you to keep your skirt/panties on so he could just pull them aside and go down on you. Bonus points if you're in heels, he'd fucking love you stepping on him.

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?) 

He really just likes to hear his name. He won't ask you to call him anything. If you call him Daddy/Sir/Master, he can roll with that, but he won't actively seek it out.

He'll call you lots of names, from degrading ones like 'slut' and 'whore' to soft ones like 'good boy/girl' or 'baby.' It Depends on his mood.

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?) 

Loves having his nipples played with. Be rough with him; it'll leave him a puddle in your hands. Also loves having nails raked over his back, not only for the feeling but the marks left as well.

A hand on the thigh or knee can be enough to get him into the mood. But Stu is someone who is kinda just ready to go at the drop of a hat lmao.