#trigger warning for threats of violence

[off-brand-cheese]

Title: Goodbye and Hello

Word count: 1,057

Fandom: Roblox Pressure

Characters: Sebastian Solace, Reader

Content Warning: suicide, murder, swearing, depression, violence, threats, loneliness, slightly graphic, gore

Summary: You, an expendable, had been spending time with Sebastian until he becomes distant and violent, driving you away. That is until you come back to use his gun against him.

———————————————————

An Expendable, sent down to retrieve some stupid crystal in an old, partially flooded facility. Yup, that's you. The details weren't important, but what WAS important was the sort of relationship you created with a certain genetically modified shopkeeper you encountered during your endeavor, even teaming up to off some other Expendables to take back the gear they bought from Sebastian, returning the items and the remaining assets they gathered. 

This had gone on for a few weeks, your bond with the hybrid growing stronger with every day!..  Or so you thought.

One day, when you came back from doing your usual exploring and getting extra items for the shopkeeper, he seemed colder; dismissing you with a snarl. He had been a bit snarky but this wasn't the Sebastian you knew. This one was distant and aggressive. “Seb’, what's wrong, man? This ain't like you. I'm your dude, you told me things and I helped you when you had that panic a-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Sebastian pulled his triple barrel shotgun and aimed it right at your head. He bared his teeth, growling low as he spoke directly to you with no hesitation. “You are a parasite to me. You are more of a liability; the one who is going to get me killed faster. You lead those idiots here just to kill them and bring me back MY items,” He explained through his teeth, shoving the muzzle of the gun against your forehead which caused you to stumble back. You noticed the light of Sebastian's lure flicker with his anger and irritability: something not everyone could easily spot. “I won't let you kill me, I won't let you be the one to GET me killed. I want you to get out of my shop and never come back. I'm getting SICK of seeing your fucking face this often, every damn day. Now leave before I make use of this gun.”

There was no choice but to stand your ground one last time. You straighten your back, standing your full height and spoke back with venom in your voice. “I have been nothing but helpful to you, Mr. Solace, and this is how you repay me? I never asked for anything in return except for a safe place to sleep and some food to eat. You will miss me and how I never harassed you the way the others have,” You threw some documents on the floor in front of Sebastian before leaving through the vent, speaking one last time. “I'll have the final laugh one day, just you wait and see…”

After about two months, every single Expendable that came into Sebastian's shop, he listened closely to their voice when they spoke, hoping that it was you, returning to him to keep him company only to be completely and utterly disappointed, then angered when they blinded him with their flash beacon. 

“... Hey, stranger. Over here…” The aquatic hybrid called out to the new suspected customer into his shop. As the person crawled through the vent into his little shop, he wasn't paying attention to who it was as he was pulling out a few small items with his multiple hands. Sebastian was too focused on his little greeting that he didn't see the person pulling out a taser and pressing it against his massive tail. Before he could even begin to reach for his gun, he quickly looked into the eyes of this intruder only to see the cold, dead stare in your eyes as you sent enough volts through him to make him scream in pain. 

Sebastian's lure flickered like a short circuit, his body fell to the ground, violently twitching and shivering while you casually stepped on his body to retrieve his gun, checking to see if it was loaded, nodding to yourself in satisfaction when you saw three fresh bullets in place. You ignored his pleads directed towards you as you stood back in front of him and spoke in an authoritative tone over his cries, aiming the gun at his head. “I, (Y/N), was sent down to terminate Z-13 for impeding the retrieval of the crystal for, how long again? Oh right! Since about 2013! I'll be respected after this!” You shoved the live taser into Sebastian's stomach and kept it there for about 5 solid seconds, watching him writhe in agony before hitting him in the temple with the butt of his shotgun and aiming back to his head. “Maybe in your next run, you’ll learn to respect the person who trusts you, Sebastian Solace.” 

The hybrid began to cry out for his mother and you, muttering apologies and begging for forgiveness from you as he started reaching for your arm which you pushed away, watching the tears stream down his face and his body tremble. 

“I-I’m ss-s-s-so-rry. S-sorry, sor-ry, sor-” With a loud bang, his body stopped trembling and the light drained from his eyes. His entire form went limp as his brains and part of his eyes painted the walls behind his lifeless body. You put the safety on the shotgun and put it in your backpack and grabbed out a switchblade to cut off what remained of Sebastian's lure as a trophy, taking all you could from his shop and taking the ring from his finger before making your way out of his shop one last time. You looked back to whisper a sorrowful apology to leave. 

Once you got back to the surface with the crystal and everything you gathered, you were praised and deemed as a hero, but the guilt you felt was nearly unbearable.

Living years with the doubt and the guilt sent you into a spiral of depression, knowing that he didn't deserve to be killed, that he was completely innocent, plagued your mind. It kept you awake for countless nights, you went days without eating, you were physically sick and mentally worn, you just couldn't take it anymore. You held the ring he wore as you grabbed the shotgun that you put three fresh slugs in and quickly freed your broken mind, releasing your spirit into the Aether where you saw Sebastian in his original, human form, giving you an annoyed glare and holding his hand out as if he was expecting something. 

“I'd like my ring back.”

[robobrainrot]

The Knack

Chapter 3: Deus Ex Machina

Notes: its a Knockout-Centric Fic with a human OC. Breakdown is alive and well. Optimus is alive and well. Set in the Prime Universe: Post Predacons Rising, Pre-RID15

Updates weekly...ish

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Trigger Warnings for this chapter are tagged below

One of his off days landed on a Thursday so Knockout decided he’d return to his favorite parking spot. It had been awhile since he visited. They had exchanged a few comments back and forth online, but never in person. Nothing in their interactions had given him solid evidence if the human definitely knew he was a giant space alien that turned into a car. They were always very cordial.

It was getting dark and there was still no sign of the artist. Maybe he’d missed them? That was unlikely. He checked their social media page. No posts today.

He shifted gears (ha) and decided to investigate. Knockout drove down to the human’s home. There was no sign of them. Their curtains were open, but he could only see so far into the room.

The ex-Decepticon circled the block in frustration. Maybe the Autobots were making him soft. What was he doing caring about where some human was? It was only a year ago that he had been on the side of the war that would’ve cyber-formed the planet into an inorganic ball of metal. Albeit, he had never been keen on that part. Knockout enjoyed Earth and its culture. Any species that could make such fine automobiles had to be alright… sometimes. Certainly they weren’t worth destroying at the whims of a coked-out warlord.

Knockout drove up to campus then back down the street.

This would be so much easier if they didn’t change their appearance every day. Or just picked a color to stick with. He saw a couple of humans, but as soon as he got close, he realized it wasn’t Kylan. A group of frat boys hollered and whistled at him as he passed. This was not the kind of attention he prefered.

He pulled into a driveway to rethink. It was past time to give up at this point. He was bored. The human was probably fine.

A gunshot down the street broke him of that thought.

Knockout peeled out of the driveway towards the noise. Even if it wasn’t the human he was looking for, it was their neighborhood. Plus, he was trying to be a better Autobot. Saving humans was kind of their whole thing.

There was yelling up the street. The aggressor was dressed in baggy gray clothes and a knit hat. The victim was slightly smaller in frame, and wearing a long bright orange skirt. They had a heavy looking backpack, which seemed to be the motive for the altercation.

A half-empty trash can clattered into the street as one of the smaller got pushed into the row of plastic containers. They were leaning back against the largest bin now. The gray-clothed thug seemed to be getting impatient.

Knockout’s alt. mode was not subtle. Even with his headlights off, he was still a cherry red luxury car. He could go from 0 to 60 in 3.1 seconds. If he wanted to be loud AND flashy, he certainly could.

The aggressor was noticed the Aston Martin as soon as he turned onto the street. Knockout also noticed a very familiar haircut on the cornered human.

“Frag.” The Cybertronian swore to himself, then sped up.

“Time’s up. That's my ride." He bluffed. "The bag or your life, I'm leaving with one of them.” The rev of it's engine startled them both but the man gestured to the oncoming car.

That glance to the side was all the smaller one needed. Kylan swung around, switching places with the largest trash bin. The thug was pummeled with trash as Kylan stumbled out into the street.

Without thinking, Knockout flipped into robot mode to avoid hitting them. His back wheels kicked up to flip the entire car then he landed on his peds 10 feet away on the other side of them.

That was way too close.

Both humans screamed. Surprisingly, Kylan’s was not higher-pitched than the other.

The artist tumbled to the asphalt from shock. They scrambled backwards away from the massive robot.

Knockout caught their gaze for a second. He could see the whites all the way around their eyes. Their bangs were blown back from the WOOSH of his sudden transformation.

Meanwhile, the thug fired at him until he ran out of bullets. He missed six shots, but the other four dinged Knockout’s armor. Considering the size of the target, that was a pathetic ratio. The robot glanced down at the dents then narrowed his optics at him.

The thug went sheet pale. He dropped the gun, and ran like hell. Or, at least he tried.

The Ex-Decepticon grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He hoisted him up to eye level. Through gritted denta-plates, he sneered. “You should consider a change of hobby.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He yelped. “Please don’t-!”

Before he could finish that thought, Knockout tossed him into the trash pile. It would hurt, maybe break a bone or two, but it wouldn’t kill him.

“And that’s how you take out the trash.” He laughed. He dusted his hands off on each other before dropping back down into vehicle mode.

By this point, Kylan was hyperventilating on the curb 30 feet away. They backed away onto the sidewalk as Knockout approached. He opened the passenger side door.

“Get in.”

They stared at the car for a long, terrified moment, paralyzed by their own bewilderment.

“Kylan. Get in.” He repeated through the radio.

“‘Kylan?’” The artist blurted incredulously. “Y-you… you’re a… wh-”

“I will tell you if you get- the fuck- in.” Knockout rolled a few inches forward. “I need to leave, and I’m not leaving you here. I’ll bring you back but you need to get in. Now.”

Flashing blue and red lights reflected off the buildings around the corner.

Of course people had called the cops. Between the yelling, gunshots, screaming and weird-robot-thing noise: it had devolved into a whole scene. The artist momentarily wondered if anyone caught it on video. Or maybe all of this was a sleep deprived, paint fume induced nightmare.

The revv of the sentient car’s engine snapped their attention back to reality.

The artist clamored up onto their feet and into the passenger side. As soon as their butt hit the seat, he was off. The seat belt snapped around them as soon Knockout wasn’t focused on getting out of view of the incoming police cars.

[ultramarine-spirit]

I was reading the novel and this time something caught my attention that I don't know why I had overlooked it before, and that is how Athy talks about her life in the orphanage. Athy says that the children in the orphanage knew things that the children should not know, that she had to fight for what she wanted and that when she left that place she felt a kind of freedom.

To me, that screams abuse.

It bothers me that the fandom so overlooked the fact that Athy was abused not only in her first life (neglect) but also in her second life and I'm sure it must have been hell. I wish the manhwa had put more emphasis on this because many fans overlook Athy's trauma when she is literally the character who suffered the most.

Yes, to me it's canon that Athy was heavily abused in her second life. Adding to what you said, I remember her mentioning having to literally fight for food (a bowl of rice), or how they got a single sad birthday celebration per month. That's also where her initial fixiations with candy, money and her genuine love for studying come from, as Athy herself admits, she never had those kinds of luxuries (she mentions having to eat expired food in a "haha funny" way, but if you think about it for two seconds, it's just tragic. Like, she died from overdosing on sleeping pills to deal with the cold). I know a thing or two about how orphanages operate from my field of work and acquaintances, and kids in those institutions suffer from abuse in all sorts of ways while being completely ignored by society. I'm not from Korea, but going by what Plutus wrote and reading about the subject, the situation seems to be similar or even worse.

If I want to get overanalytical, part of her depression while living alone could be a consequence of the treatment she received at the orphanage. It's super common for kids in those situations to end up with depression, PTSD, having issues forming emotional connections, facing prejudice, etc. It's also canon that she was verbally and physically abused at her workplace. Athy treats her death as an accident, but in my opinion it's implied that it was a suicide, perhaps not in an "active way", but her behavior was edging the line. Which is again, common for people with that background. I think this plot point is interesting, as to my knowledge suicide is a taboo subject in East Asia. Most manhwas don't have their FL reincarnate after that.

I get what you mean, that part of Athy's trauma is often overlooked, but it probably has to do with most people not reading the novel and with Athy herself not really acknowledging it. She mentions her life as Lee Jihye at the beginning of the story, and then very rarely brings it up. But if anything, that's pretty consistent with how Athy deals with her trauma and negative emotions, refusing to acknowledge they exist until their weight is too heavy for her to endure. I like this piece of characterization a lot, but it leaves us with many questions that are hard to answer when Athy herself doesn't remember or actively tries to forget the trauma from her past lives. You could draw some parallels with Lucas and Claude's respective ways of dealing with trauma, loss and trying to forget (but Athy's mindset is more healthy and not so self-destructive lol).

Also yes, to me Athy is the character that has suffered the most by far. Not like this is a competition, but *gestures at LP* and the fact that she was a working class woman in Korea while the other characters (sans Lucas and Diana, I guess) are and always have been rich aristocrats in pseudo-France says enough /hj.

[gaymertheymer]

not putting it in the tags bc those r visible now but that video reminds me of this guy i have blocked in a server i’m in cuz they won’t stop being horny for jack horner. like explicit nsfw in sfw channels. and that’s not even the topic of the server. so yeah that’s what i wanna do to them.

[iwontmakeuasandwich]

I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate men I hate-

[shawmlinsitly08]

// tw: verbal abuse, threats of violence

I HATED feeling suddenly Guilty whenever I wake up. It's that persisting feeling where whatever happens is all going to be pointless or whatever I did for today or few days ago is not enough. Maybe it will Never be enough.

This guilt only intensified last month, after my parents got my grades card, that I got yelled and threatened by my 'dad' for my low grades - name called, shamed, guilt tripped, compared.

Called me "abnormal" several times, compared my grades like a student who doesn't attend to classes, and if I don't rise my grades by the next school quarter, I will get punched to the point of bruises.

And my mom just sat there (who was also Not happy about my grades) letting it happen as I was being emotionally destroyed; not intervening.

The worst part is, hours later, he pretended that never happened. Kissing on the cheek as if to "fix" what he did to me. That he still "loved" me despite that.

Disgusting. And unjustified.

And then two days laters, as I was eating breakfast before going to school, my mom (who was across the table) confronted me again about my grades. I don't even remember what she said, I was too ashamed to look at her. I do know that she Fucking compared me to a student (as an example) where they were struggling with home life yet still did well at school. In contrast, I, with all my basic needs provided (minus emotional needs), struggled with school despite my decent home life.

Do you know how much it hurts to be compared like that?

As a result, I'm afraid of school for failing. That if I fail, I might get more hurt because it. The fear of failure because my fear of being hurt. Not necessarily physically but you get the point. Being more prone to guilt than before.

It was hard... That it pushed to open up to any trusted people in my life, online and offline. In school or not. Friends, guidance counselors, an online mutual, and two trusted teachers. Anything to lessen the weight in my chest.

It helped more than I thought. And I didn't know I needed to do it than ever. I'm glad that people like are willing to listen to me. Even if I doubt that they will.

I am forever grateful to have them in my life. It may not be much but for what it's worth, I'm thankful for them.

[this-is-me19]

https://x.com/notcapnamerica/status/1703153961442717795?s=46&t=BQmenEkxxKLjBrxpohf-tg

It’s super long but totally worth the point at the end.

[newjenns]

newest school shooting hits me a little harder

[sunshine-and-kookies]

UNHINGED (m)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> The corporate recession has your company grovelling for funds.

As the relegated chief operating officer, you have to bear the brunt of seeking out an enterprising and successful shareholder who can revive your company for posterity.

As a sorry state of affairs, you're compelled to enlist the CEO of Jeon Enterprise for his help. However, The question remains.

Just how much convincing are you willing to do?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Part: 1 of 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Yandere Jeongguk x Female Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings for both parts: Power Imbalance, Blackmailing, Manipulation, inebriation, smut, fingering, groping, penetration, some nasty stuff, light choking, a few corporate jargons, jk is a dick who is smitten with oc, jk is selfish asf, threats of violence (not against OC).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This is a two-shot which delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°

"This is unbelievable", you lament, hunched over your desk.

"How did the stocks plummet so much?"

"Miss. L/N, The stock market is a gamble." Mr. Kwon offers.

"I am aware of that Mr. Kwon. But the risks we took were calculated." You massage your temples, grumbling defensively under your breath.

The predicament at hand induced mixed emotions in you. On one hand, you were anxious. Anxious for the employees who have a family to fend for, the news headlines they'll be witnessing and the confrontation you'll need to have with the stakeholders.

On the other, less dominant hand, you felt uncannily relieved.

Ever since your company, Jubilee and Co, invested in the share market with you at the helm, you've been waiting for something to go awry.

Simply, because you couldn't fathom anything remotely auspicious happening under your leadership. Not because you didn't have faith in your capabilities. No.

It was because you've gotten the short end of the stick from life so often that you've grown accustomed to it.

And now that your trepidations have borne fruit, you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

Gingerly clutching the cup of coffee perched on your table, you take a sip. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

"Mr. Kwon, prepare an excel sheet that has all the consolidated data of the company's capital. We can't afford any delays. I have to begin looking for plausible shareholders."

You could feel the soreness kicking in, as you knead the knots in your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long day.

..............................................................................................................................

You peer at your phone's self camera for the umpteenth time.

Huffing, as you rake your fingers through your hair. Everything about your outfit seemed off but scrounging for a better one would take an eternity. You were living on borrowed time as it is.

"Miss. Y/N L/N, Mr. Jeon is ready for you."

You stand upright, hands clenching the portfolio in your hand futilely, your heels scuffing across the floor of the hallway.

Navigating through the huge corridor, you spot the door of the room where the incumbent CEO sits.

Knocking lightly, you speak "Mr Jeon?"

"Come in."

His husky voice beckons.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you step into the room.

And as soon as you do, you're rendered awestruck by the cabin.

It has expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the bustling city below.

The golden hour sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

The walls, adorned with exquisite golden motifs, which no doubt must have cost a fortune.

Fitting for a billionaire like him, you suppose.

Right in the center of the room is a rich mahogany desk, cluttered with documents.

Perched behind the desk is Jeon Jeongguk, the formidable CEO of Jeon Enterprises. It is renowned globally as the only firm which deals with technological ergonomics. Their unparalleled success transcended borders, setting the standard worldwide.

Needless to say, Jubilee and Co was a far cry from Jeon Enterprises.

You've read enough tabloids about the cold, formidable CEO to know what might transpire.

On behalf of your company's stakeholder, you'll ask him for help. He'll eye you incredulously, disdain marring his face before he politely calls the security guard to escort this deranged woman out.

You're taking a leap of faith coming here and hoping a tech tycoon like him even spares you a glance.

You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, prompting you to look at him.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widened, as he stared at you from across the room.

His gaze trailed your dainty form from top to bottom, eyes darkening the more they consume you.

You shudder.

You should have taken time to look for a more flattering outfit. Or maybe your hair was dishevelled?

Clearing your throat, you politely ask him, "May I take a seat, Mr Jeon?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Jeon suddenly stands up before motioning for you to sit.

"Please do, Miss...?"

"Y/N L/N." , you supply.

"Y/N..." His dulcet voice repeats your name, as though in a trance.

There was an eerie tension in the room but you would be damned if you let it get to you and lose this golden opportunity.

"As the chief operating officer, I'm here to represent Jubilee and Co."

This was it.

This was the part where you'll be catapulted out of the building by big and buff security men--

"How may I be of assistance to Jubilee and Co. today?"

You blanch.

Out of all outcomes you were expecting would ensue your introduction, this was the most unexpected one.

You were not prepared for this, how do you broach the proposal of an alliance now?

Quickly gathering yourself, you resume.

"We are honoured you have decided to give us the time of the day, Mr Jeon."

"Don't mention." His tone, though professional, betrayed a hint of eagerness.

"From what I presume, you're here to ask for an affiliation." He continues.

"Your stakeholders want Jubilee and Co to become a subsidiary under Jeon Enterprises."

You were tongue tied.

Mr. Jeon was an astute man. You'll give him that.

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"And why, exactly, should I invest in a company that is, for a lack of better word, in shambles? Inundated with abysmal employees", He rejoinders.

You wince. No matter how true his word were, they were acerbic.

Jubilee was like a baby to you.

You've gone through hell to make it transition from a tier 3 brand name to a decently esteemed firm. You've spent countless sleepless nights looking after it, skipped meals to tend to it's wounds.

Chagrined, you speak before your brain can process your words.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon. But Jubilee is more than just its current state. It's a testament to resilience, to the countless hours of dedication and hard work put in by its employees, including myself."

Your gaze meets his, vulnerability shining in your eyes.

"Yes, we may have faced setbacks, but we've also overcome them. I believe that adversity often presents the greatest opportunities for growth. I understand your reservations, Mr. Jeon, but I urge you to consider the untapped potential within Jubilee. With the right investments and guidance, I firmly believe that it has the potential to rise from its current situation and flourish once again."

A hush falls over the room.

Jeongguk's gaze remained unwavering, fixed on your face throughout your entire tirade.

"Consider me convinced, Miss. Y/N."

"S-Sir?"

"I guarantee. Jubilee's stock will be restored, funds will be augmented, and brand reputation will be unrivalled. The employees that will henceforth be inducted will be recruited by my personal hiring team."

You can barely hear the rest of his sentence, already thrumming with excitement. Your mind plotting all the ways you can get back at the naysayers.

The resurgence of Jubilee is inevitable, now that you have Jeongguk on board.

"But, you must understand Y/N, there are no free lunches in this world."

And just like that all your dreams come crashing down.

"Pardon, sir?"

Mr. Jeon gracefully rises from his chair, closing the proximity between the both of you as he leans on the front of the desk, positioned directly in front of you.

"I'll accede to all your demands, but I want a fair trade."

Mr. Jeon's words hang in the air. You had hoped for a smooth negotiation, where was this coming from?

"What kind of fair trade are you suggesting, Mr. Jeon?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

"I'll provide my expertise, my resources, to ensure Jubilee's revival," he begins.

"But in return, I ask for something beyond the confines of business."

There is a tacit silence enveloping the room.

The implication of his suggestion is glaringly blatant.

Situations like these were rife in the corporate world. Pleasure in exchange for business gains was not unheard of.

What was however, unheard of, was an employee of Jubilee engaging in such lewd dalliances.

While they were definitely slacking and inept when it comes to work and strategies, Jubilee has maintained a pristine image of possessing the most morally sound employees.

You are caught in a mire.

On one hand, you are disgruntled that he thought you were so shallow that you'll take him up on an offer as promiscuous as that.

But on the other hand, you are convinced this is your only shot at reviving Jubilee. Jungkook's assets and team marshalled together will undoubtedly take Jubilee to unprecedented heights.

"We have a deal, Mr. Jeon."

..............................................................................................................................

"Jeongguk, stop please! Not now, I have to get ready for a meeting."

"I don't renege on my promises, baby girl." He hums, biting your lower lip as his hands fondle your clothed chest.

"And I expect the same from you, yeah?"

The past few months have been very conducive for Jubilee.

As expected, with Jeongguk's acumen & assistance, the company is practically thriving, now in a league comparable to the unicorns.

And it had to be. You've traded yourself for its prosperity after all.

"Fuck", the expletive rolls off your tongue as a strangled moan.

His palms knead the flesh as he grinds his hips on your clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty, my baby. Got me wrapped around your little finger like a hormonal fucking teenager."

He grunts in your ear as one of his hands find purchase on your hip, the other smoothly lifting your pencil skirt to stroke your thigh.

"Kook, I c-can't"

He is terse as he pants, "Yes, you can. You will do everything I ask you to, am I clear?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Good girl" He dotes.

Unbuttoning your top and latching his tongue onto your now bare nipple.

"Stop teasing Kook, touch me already. I'm so fuckin' wet"

He grins as he resumes his ministrations on your inner thigh, cheekily peering up at you from where he is stationed, between your breasts.

"Someone's needy."

You huff exasperated, placing a hand on his as you halt him.

"Fine, I'll just ask Taehyung for help. He won't deny me anyways."

All air escapes you as you're suddenly jerked, your bare back meeting the wall with a thud.

You open your eyes at the sudden movement.

Jeongguk's laborious breath is laden with ire.

Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.

His previous playful beam, nowhere to be found.

He takes in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

They're the darkest you've ever seen them. Pupils enlarged to an extent that his eyes appear pitch black.

You fucked up.

His hand comes up as he lightly chokes you, not enough to hurt you but enough to cause a pool of wetness dripping down your thighs in its wake.

"Say shit like that one more time and see me burn that fucker alive."

"You have the fucking audacity to even think of another man, when yours is right in front of you? Don't you fucking forget who you belong to Y/N. You're fucking mine. Body, Heart and Soul. You've sworn your loyalty to me. You've surrendered yourself to me completely the day I agreed to buy that shitty company of yours."

Your panties are completely drenched at this point and you're unsure if its because you're turned on or petrified of how vexed he has become by the mere thought of you with another man, even though you had said it in jest.

Without any preamble, his fingers prod at your entrance as he sinks them in. Your walls embracing him like second skin.

"Even your tight little pussy isn't yours anymore. It belongs to Jeon Jungkook.”

He slaps your pussy immediately after, as though proving his point.

“And I don't fucking share, so you better pray to any deity you worship that I don't fucking catch you masturbating or so help me god."

He fingers you passionately. Not stopping even after you plead him to.

"T-Too sensitive, K-Kook."

Unbuckling his belt, He pulls out his penis. It stands tall, proud and red with pre cum oozing out of the tip.

You grab him for stability as he pushes the tip in, letting your walls adjust and clamp before he brutally picks up his pace.

"Tell me who you belong to." He bellows.

Too out of it, you fail to form a coherent response.

THWACK.

He slaps your ass hard.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

"I-I'm yours Koo, only yours." you manage to say, eager to cajole him.

"Damn right you are." He hums, seemingly placated with your answer. Picking up his pace, he spits in your mouth, meshing his tongue with yours, while his fingers play with your clit.

You feel the familiar warmth below your cervix, as you groan,

"C-Cumming"

He gently pats your hair, kissing your earlobe.

"Let go, baby."

As you ride off your high, too blissful to pay attention to your surroundings, you don't notice the way Jeongguk's gaze darkens.

............................................................................................................................

Part: 1 of 2

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back��he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part one

part one | part two

a stalker forces you to abandon the bau and leaves you in the streets strapped to an explosive. when spencer finds you, you’re left with a bitter decision to try and save him.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, needles, blood, explosives, and death, lots of angst

word count :: 3k

author’s note :: this is literally the prelude to pure angst. poor reader has been through too much :(

accompanying song :: exit music (for a film) by radiohead

one year ago

you never said goodbye to spencer reid. 

the first set of warnings came in the form of a letter enveloped in frail parchment paper. you found it on your desk after you returned with the rest of the team from a case. the tiredness washed over you as you slumped in your chair, and you lazily reached for the envelope to detach the sealed flap from the wax.

it’s at that moment, when you read the first sentence, that you wished you never unfolded the letter. 

but your eyes betrayed you, and they shifted left and right as you proceeded to read through the spouts of hatred and animosity. 

you already know the story. you will die. everyone you love will also die. you will lose them forever. you will be sad and angry. you will weep. you will bargain. you will make demands. you will beg. you will pray. it will make no difference. nothing you can do will bring them back. you know this. your knowing changes nothing. 

i will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.

you missed the person you were five minutes ago. 

after re-reading the letter four times, you realized the uncanny similarity of the message to the iliad, maybe book 21. it was most likely someone trying to spew out a hollow threat against you and the team, using a contemporary translation to sound modish and intimidating. you made a mental note to ask spencer who the translator was once he returned with his coffee.

it wasn’t entirely uncommon for you to receive death threats, especially after working at the bau for five years. while you’ve managed to lock up some of those who had enacted the worst possible actions against humanity, you also became part of the receiving end – a channel for all of the violence to funnel through. 

before you placed the letter back into its envelope, you noticed a small card tucked in the corner of the sleeve. you cautiously took it out, a glossy sticker of a red eye on the face of the card glaring into your own irises.

you turned it over.

this one instantly drowned the color from your face. it knocked out all of your emotion, sealed it in a box, and shipped it away on a freighter that was already set out on a doomed path. 

tell him about me, go on. tell doctor spencer reid about me. i bet he would enjoy choosing who to save: aaron hotchner or david rossi.  

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you, and you swore you heard your own heart beat against the walls of your own skin, thudding like a drum with its sunken chambers. you straightened your posture and shoved the letter to the side. you prayed it wasn’t spencer standing behind you.

you sighed in relief when you turned to face anderson.

“ma’am, a letter for you.” he handed you another letter, this time a charcoal-gray envelope with no mailing address inscribed on it. just your name. after he was a considerable distance away from your desk, you teared the flap with shaky fingers and peered inside.

it was a set of photographs, the film papers bundled together with a single rubber band. you lifted the envelope, letting gravity do the work as the stash of photos fell to your lap. 

your throat ran dry. your worst fear was sitting on your lap, and you could do nothing but stare back at it with panic-stricken eyes.

your cheeks suffused with a color of pale blue and a trigger blew off in your head. 

each photo depicted you with a bau member. and you recognized every moment.

you were grabbing prentiss’ arm as you laughed at the nonsensical joke one of her date partners had tried on her.

you were hugging rossi at his doorstep after being invited to vent personal troubles over some scotch and wine.

you were giving jack a high-five after babysitting him as hotch thanked you for covering him when he went to new york to visit beth.

you were sitting at the dinner table with jj and will, happily eating from a plate of steak and fries as you discussed your future plans to go travel abroad.

you were with garcia, carrying multiple shopping bags as you stopped to point at the beautiful dress showcased in the vintage store across the street.

you were deeply engaged in conversation with morgan, sitting on a park bench and watching the children run around as though not a single worry clouded over their heads.

and you were with spencer, legs crossed as you took a sip out of your hot coffee and exchanged novels to read. a red ‘x’ marked over both of your faces. 

tell doctor spencer reid about me.

the tears fell one by one, staining the tanned paper and leaving the inked words to bleed across the wet spots.

you will die.

if ending credits ever existed in a movie as tragic as yours, they would roll right now – and you would be as good as a deceased character, your name marked in white against a black screen.

i will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.

you drew in a shaky breath and folded the letter with trembling fingers. the creases retracted the notebook-sized sheet into a flattened square. each turn of the paper felt like you were shattering your own bones, irreversibly folding them into an inhuman form.

two weeks. that was how much time you gave yourself to leave the bau. and to fray the twine between you and your beloved doctor.

you received the second warning a week before your departure. 

this one was a direct threat, a ruthless sign that he wasn’t giving you extra time to think about your options. in fact, he made it clear that you didn’t have an option.

your stalker had taken jack for twelve hours, during which your team – hotch especially – searched relentlessly. no one paused for a coffee break, and every single one of you was going to devote every waking hour to bring jack home safe. the last thing your team needed was a foyet wannabe, and everyone was on edge for reports, sightings, anything.

but the clues trickled to you. he dropped hints for you directly, even one at your cell number. while you relayed everything to your team, no one asked the questions until later. why did he leave you with the hints, trying to lead you to jack’s trail when it should’ve been hotch?

the inquiries dropped like flies when jack was brought to the steps of the fbi office by a “mysterious presence”, according to a messenger who passed hotch a card.

when the card was shown to you, a bone-chilling shiver propagated down your spine and your pupils dilated.

you already know the story, it read.

no one else knew what it meant except for you. typed in courier and printed on the all-too-familiar brown letter paper, the words bore into your soul and etched onto your heart with a searing pain.

you were angry. so, so angry. not at the fact that you couldn’t even get three hours of sleep ever since the week before, not at the fact that you had a stalker vexing you with taunts, but at the fact that he was targeting everyone but you.

to you, he was a coward. if it was rancor he harbored against you, he should’ve confronted you directly. tear a ligament, make you swim in your own blood, leave you for roadkill, you didn’t care. if he was so inclined to get at you, then you’d let him. but never – never – could you forgive anyone who let others in your own mess.

you reached out to hotch first. you told him you had found a new job in upstate new york, where you were going to work as a lecturer at a local university. to make it sound convincing, you told him that a family member of yours had fallen sick and was currently residing there, and you needed to seek solace in their presence.

he understood, just as you expected. he always did, without question. he’d pay visits at your new place and at the university, and catch up with you once in a while. jack would love to see you there, he said.

rossi, too, accepted it without much hesitation. he gave you one of his heartwarming smiles, wrinkled eyes reassuring you for any hesitation you had trying to tell him before. come by any time, we’ll always welcome you with open arms, he spoke with genuine kindness.

prentiss and jj, more reluctantly so. they gave you a tougher time, practically interrogating you – asking you where the address of your new place was, since when you had planned on leaving the bau, and if you needed help clearing out your current place.

you’ve – i mean we all have, a little, but you seem to be… disturbed lately. especially after… jack was abducted, prentiss told you. prentiss and her watchful eye. it’s why you specifically planned to tell her with jj in the room, so she’d reserve the harsher questions for another time when it’d be just the two of you, but by then you’d find a way to avoid the conversation altogether.

morgan didn’t say much. you had expected that though, considering the fact that you would often go to him to consult worries, plans, and theorize about each other’s future. he was silent when you delivered the news, but then he pulled you in as if to shield you from all of your lingering worries.

promise me, l/n. promise me you’ll come visit.

you broke like a brittle twig in his grasp. you wanted to give up so badly.

i promise, you whispered back. the masterful lie rolled off of your tongue before you could withhold yourself, and it lay suspended in the air with heavy guilt and ill-fated dishonesty.

garcia never accepted departure well. you could only watch in pity and remorse as the mascara stained her cheeks and the tears landed at her keyboard. her arms shook as she tried to embrace you, and you didn’t even have it in you to return the hug.

you wanted garcia to be the last to see you. you wanted to save your goodbye with her for the very last, a fluorescent presence in your otherwise gloomy life. her bubbly spirit met your silence with indescribable serenity, and you monumentalized your last moment in the bau with her. she made your life worth living.

you were trying. you were trying to spare the safety of your dearest friends at the expense of your own. you were trying to reclaim the blood that rushed to your face. you were begging for one chance. who could blame you?

spencer did.

you didn’t leave a single note for spencer. you never even told him a thing. to him, your departure was indigestible torment. he usually doesn’t wish the worst upon anyone, but with you, he wondered if he had to make an exception.

you ended up leaving the office a day before your said departure date, because you didn’t want to risk spencer finding out any earlier. you had meticulously planned everything out, asking every team member not to tell another. to your knowledge, no one knew that anyone else knew, save for prentiss and jj.

the day after you left, you received a text from spencer.

can we please talk? 

his message lit up your screen, a lone star in the night sky that was drowned of its usual vibrancy. 

you were too far into this to take a step back. 

after looking up to the sky one last time, taking in the sight of the polluted air clouding the atmosphere with your bloodshot eyes, you dropped your cell into a garbage bin.

you knew he’d be mad. 

you wanted him to stay mad. it would make all of this — the pain of moving on — easier.

some day, he’d understand. you hoped. you hoped and you hoped.

your bitter end was inevitable.

for three weeks, spencer was all alone.

he drew no effort to talk to anyone about it, because you robbed him of his mental clarity.

since the first day you joined the bau, you held him spellbound. you listened to his ramblings, exchanged book recommendations with him, and sat next to him in the darkness as he lay gasping for air after another one of his horrendous nightmares.

you were there for him, until you weren’t.

your absence was his worst torment, a form of loneliness he couldn’t sleep away.

there were times when he’d pour twice the water needed in his kettle, only to realize after that he set down a single coffee cup.

there were times when he’d intentionally wear his tie crooked, only to realize you were never going to be in the office to point it out for him.

there were times when you’d appear in his dreams, when he’d awake and see nothing but a pile of books before him.

you turned into a dull ache in his chest.

you became the sadness so deep in his chest that he couldn’t even cry about it. 

he wondered how it felt now that you left him behind. he put all of his cards on the table, exposing to you his most vulnerable moments and emotions. if only you showed your hand.

he wanted it to haunt you.

he wanted to hate you.

you were impossible longing, impossible infatuation. he thought you were unloveable.

who could blame him?

present day

you never left virginia. 

in fact, you were stuck making ends meet as a writer for a local news journal under the pseudonym lynne davis.

the truth is, it was impractical for you to find a new job and relocate within the mere span of two weeks. quitting your job at the bau was a given, but that also meant that your compensation would drop significantly. considering that you couldn’t work in law enforcement anymore, you had to start over from scratch.

so you tirelessly worked to scour earnings by typing away, writing editorial pieces on sports and personal health.

your night job, you worked as a cashier at a seven-eleven. because you couldn’t work remotely for your shifts, you took up a disguise. you dyed and cut your hair, exclusively wore long-sleeved articles of clothing, and kept a baseball cap on, making sure it snugged tightly against your forehead and hid your eyes.

yet in hindsight, nothing could have prepared you for the worst. the issue with all of this was that you were too consistent. had you changed up your routine from time to time, perhaps you wouldn’t have been caught while commuting to your night shift. but you were too predictable for him.

it happens when you get off of the bus.

when the man bumps into you, he murmurs apologies that you can’t ignore.

“sorry- are you okay?” he asks.

you look up briefly to meet his eye before forcing a small smile with upturned lips.

“yeah, um, don’t worry about it. i’m all good.” you tell him rushingly with the wave of your hand, before turning to walk to the store.

but he doesn’t leave you. his heavy steps mimic yours, treading quickly along the asphalt. after taking a few staggering steps, you stop. you annoyedly turn around, deciding to tell him off. 

“hey, i don’t know what you’re doing-”

you never get to finish your sentence. when you look at him, he’s already face to face with you, one hand grasping the side of your shoulders while the other presses a needle against your arm.

your entire time at the bau, you took pride in your acute awareness of your surroundings, never letting your guard down even around those you trusted. so this was the price you had to pay for your lack of practice – everything folded into a blurry stream as you looked down to see your legs dissipate in the ground, almost like you were falling in quicksand.

when you wake up, you’re on the ground in a narrow alleyway. you don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s hot and the air’s fetid and there’s an itch spreading throughout your entire body-

you look down. your hands are stained with a horrific shade of red, and there’s a crumpled note in your palm. you unfold it.

it will make no difference.

he had you. you scowl at the thought of him subduing you, strangling you with ropes and leashing you to a chair.

you freeze. he’s also made you wear a black leather jacket, bundling you up in the thick layer of suffocating heat. 

you unzip the jacket, and the walls in your head cave in instantly. to your dismay, you’re wearing an explosive vest, armed with a detonator and all. a timer lies near your ribcage, and your heart sinks. it hasn’t started yet.

a shaky exhale leaves your lips as you try to assess your situation.

you wish death would’ve consumed you already, but you have to stand up on your feet and run, away from the buildings and the people, as fast as your weary legs can carry you.

you stand and start to run in the opposite direction from the main road, the sounds of traffic bleeding into your ears as your feet slam against the ridged ground.

parched with unquenched thirst and begrimed with dust from the asphalt, you come to a stop when you reach a fork in the road. 

as you frantically try to think of which route to take, you hear it.

“y/n?”

it’s too familiar. the voice ridden with a slight rasp, carrying an air of inquisitiveness and soothing tenderness.

it sounds like clarity amidst all of the chaos.

you pray it’s not him.

you turn to meet the sight of the wrinkled shirt, waistcoat, and converses smudged with dirt. the brown disheveled hair, doe eyes, and moistened lips pursing with concern.

spencer fucking reid.

[steviebbboi]

Good For It

Pairing: Ari Levinson x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k~ (no idea how this happened) 🫣

Summary: Ari was deeply misunderstood by everyone except you. What happens when someone tries to hurt the one person he cares about the most?

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 writing challenge, "Siri's Birthday Bonenanza"~ Thank you to Siri for hosting this, and hoping that you all enjoy this as much I loved writing it :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; Mentions/threats of violence, mentions of drugging reader (not by Ari), mentions of sexual harassment (again, not by Ari), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, Lumberjack!Ari, Veteran!Ari.

Prompts: Ari Levinson x F!Reader feat. Bryce Langley (not involved with Reader at all) + "The moment you or babe realize you’re in love with the other" + "Scary!babe is in love and a simp for you" + "Playful trolling/banter"

Quote Prompts: “Why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” + “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” + “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. + “Can you just…hold me, please?”

Trope Prompt: Scary, dangerous!babe who is only soft with you

Kink(s) Prompt: Size kink + Praise kink + Squirting + Manhandling +soft!dom (ish) + Possessive!babe + breeding (ish?)

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

Rowdy laughter and the clinking of glasses came into earshot as you pushed the bar doors open. You greeted the bouncer as you usually did and gave a quick scan of the back of the bar. Once you found who you were looking for, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile as you headed toward the back.

Ari Levinson, the local town recluse with only four friends (including yourself and the bouncer-ish). He’s a retired military veteran and is known as “that weird, scary dude who lives alone up in the mountains.” To be fair, the town’s whispered descriptions of him were not entirely inaccurate.

You could feel the regular, daily stares coming in hot as you continued walking toward the back booths. Although you were used to it at this point, you could feel yourself becoming more tense as the whispers started to creep through.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you passed by one woman in particular who seemed to always let out a muttered comment under her breath—all synonymous with criticism that you never took lightly.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’ll end up in the morgue someday.”

“He just has her wrapped around his finger, huh? Someone should say something.”

“You know he almost beat a guy to death a year ago. What is a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like him?”

“Nobody told her to leave the undesirables alone.”

Any and all comments surrounding Ari’s character felt crushing every time you heard them. In the beginning of your relationship with Ari, you used to cry yourself to sleep every night because some of the comments were so scathing. All these people were just judging you because you were with a person that you deeply cared about.

Ari would be there every night to soothe you (he didn’t care as much about what others said). He would wipe your tears by holding your face in his big hands and kiss you until you couldn’t remember what you were crying about in the first place.

See, there are things that people don’t know about Ari. They judged him based on his background and one incident at the mill. He was hulking over everyone at 6'5", his stature and demeanor a bit more closed off and quiet. When people tried to say hi to him, he would give them a small grunt and continue on his way. He wasn’t a small man by any means, emotionally or physically (of which, your size difference is something you both indulge in, in many ways).

The problem was that they only saw and perceived things from the surface. They didn’t see all of the qualities underneath that make him so desirable, wanted, and valuable to you. With Ari, you felt protected, safe, and secure in ways that you had never experienced before. You never felt disrespected by him in the slightest. People didn’t see that, even through his dark aimless stares or quiet mumbles and grumbles, he still cared and was incredibly kind.

One day, you were working furiously on your laptop as you sat on Ari’s couch. Your work was demanding, and more often than not, you would work your remote 9-to-5 job straight through without taking care of yourself. Ari only ever gazed at you with curiosity and never said anything about it. Although you could tell from his stare that he disapproved of your self-negligence. The next time you sat working, Ari placed some dinner on the coffee table in front of you. The smell of the hot, homemade food made your tummy rumble as you stopped typing after four hours of working nonstop to look up at him with surprise.

“Eat,” Ari said simply and reached out to stroke the exposed skin peeking out from underneath the blanket on top of you before heading back to the kitchen. You usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your work, but his act of care was so wholesome and precious that you stopped and ate the whole thing.

Ari came back once you were finished to sit down next to you under the blanket with a book. He made an effort to get comfortable by placing his large, calloused hand on your inner thigh underneath your now-shared afghan before getting back to his reading. You could only stare at him, astonished by how this beefy, quiet giant of a man managed to not only get you to pause your work but also make you eat (disrupting your chain of focus and habits was not an easy feat, just ask your ex-partners). He let out another deep grumble when you kissed his bearded cheek with a soft thank you as you put away your laptop and leaned into his shoulder to read with him.

It was then that you realized Ari, depicted as this scary, violent, tainted, isolated person, was deeply misunderstood.

It was also the moment that you realized you were deeply in love with him.

Coming out of your reverie, you let out the tension that had been carried in your chest as you saw your man start to turn as you finally approached the booth. Your soft smile turned into a genuine grin when your eyes met his. You greeted Sammy (his third friend) as you went to scoot next to Ari. You put an arm around him to give a gentle rub on his large back while giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. As usual, he gave you a quiet, deep mumble of acknowledgement but proceeded to put his muscular arm around you protectively, giving you the opportunity to place the hand that had been shoved to your side around his thick, jean-clad thigh.

“What are we talking about?” You engaged Sammy first, knowing that Ari would likely be more of an active listener, as he usually was.

Sammy and Ari were in service together, along with Rachel (the bartender and the fourth friend, completing the group). Ari was noticeably relaxed with them, as he was with you, but you had no idea how they got the man to talk. You heard stories of their time in active duty, but they never went beyond surface-level details. You knew Ari had done some dangerous work during his time in the military; he never really talked about it, but you could surmise that he was still recovering from it, especially since that incident a year ago.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Rachel threw beer on a guy who was trying to score free drinks by hitting on her,” Sammy said with a smirk.

You laughed freely. “Man, I wish I had been there to see it! Some newbie at the office messed something up, and who has to fix it? Me, of course.” You rolled your eyes and put a hand to your forehead to rub away the fatigue.

“Did you eat, baby?” Ari cut in quietly. You turned to meet his concerned gaze and gave him a soft smile with a rub to his knee. “Yes, honey. I was able to have my assistant run out to grab some grub. Don’t worry.”

He gave another affirmative grunt with a nod and shifted to hand you a beer that was hidden at the end of the table. You huffed out a quiet laugh before giving him one last squeeze on the knee before reaching for the drink gratefully. Of course, Ari had already gotten you a drink but only gave it to you after you gave your daily report. He was always looking after you.

“When are they going to gear up and give you that promotion?” Sammy asked, shaking his head.

You gave a despondent shake before sighing. “You know, they’re a small company. I think we’re understaffed as it is right now. That’s why these new hires keep making these small mistakes.”

“Aaaand that’s why they need to promote you to manager, to teach some sense into ‘em! Ari’s always sayin’ you’d be a great supervisor.” He replied with an encouraging smile.

Now you were the one letting out a small questioning mumble while looking down at your drink bashfully. You felt Ari stroke the back of your arm with a firm gentleness, and you knew it really meant, “Yes, you do deserve more.” 

This kind of touch was often a reminder for you to believe in yourself and that you deserved better things (a tough job for your ex-partners, you might add). Ari had seemingly broken a cycle for you, helping you genuinely care about yourself in a way you hadn’t before. (All the ways he protects you are just sickeningly cute, aren’t they?)

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gave Sammy a stronger “hm” in response and said, “I know. I mean, when will these bastards just wake up?”

Sammy gave a shout of laughter and a “hell yeah”  before giving you another supportive response. You turned to Ari briefly to give him another smile of appreciation, only to notice that he was already looking at you. But the glint in his eyes… you hadn’t seen that before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Sammy announcing he was going back to the bar for another drink.

The two of you were now alone, just observing each other. A shiver ran down your spine at his piercing gaze as you asked quietly, “Everything okay, honey?”

At your reserved tone, Ari gave you a subtle, tilted smile. “I love you,” he said simply.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes widen at his surprise revelation. You knew that you loved Ari, maybe even before you realized it yourself. There were many ways the two of you showed your love and care for each other—from cooking food for each other to gentle caresses during more intimate moments. However, this was the first time either of you had ever said it out loud.

Now you were the one stumbling over your words, struggling to respond, swallowing thickly as you tried to say it back. It’s not that you felt you couldn’t, but the man had just revealed that he loved you, in a bar no less! The guy was usually full of grumbles, deep hums, and mumbles. You never would have expected him to reveal something so vulnerable and intimate in an environment like this. You figured your actions would be proof enough, and that was okay with you. You accepted that about Ari—you never expected him to actually say it.

At your floundering, Ari had a full-on smirk on his handsome face. He seemed to appreciate how the tables had turned. You stopped your mumbles once you saw his reaction to your shock and squinted your eyes in fake indignation. His smirk only grew wider, the glint you noticed earlier now turning into an affectionate mirth that you knew Ari reserved just for you.

“Damn him and his sexy, lumberjack hotness,” you thought to yourself. You and Ari both knew you loved it when he teased you like this. You pretended to be upset, but it was all part of how well the two of you bantered throughout your relationship.

Most of your relationship involved speaking in a language your friends couldn’t quite understand, which only played into the image of how polar opposites you two were. But you and Ari reveled in it, just like Ari was now. You were more embarrassed at being caught stumbling on your words, and felt the need to beat him in your little game. The man hadn’t even said anything in the past minute, and he was already winning. He knew how you felt about him; it was just fun for him to see you all flustered.

“HA– alright, Mr. Grumbles. I’m going to get us some more drinks. Did you want anything else?” you said begrudgingly while gathering your glasses to bring back to the bar.

“No, baby. Sammy said he was going to get us some, though.” Ari conceded his smirk (and victory). Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—Sammy came up behind you to slide back into the booth, but with only one drink in his hand. You and Ari stared at him and then looked back at the beer with questioning eyes.

Sammy got comfortable and noticed both of your stares only when he realized that nobody was talking. Glancing down at his own drink, then toward your empty glasses, and back to your amused stares again, he muttered abashedly, “You didn’t say I had to get you another drink too.”

You let out a small giggle and looked back at Ari again to repeat, “Did you want anything else, baby?”

Ari responded with the same amusement in his tone. “No, love.” He grinned back at you as he said the endearment, which only furthered your fake ire. You pouted your lips in playful anger and met his beguiled stare with your own before standing up from the booth.

As you gathered the empty glasses again, you saw Ari attempting to grab them from you as he also stood up from his seat.

“No– don’t worry, Ari. I’ve got it,” you reassured him, but he ignored you and responded only with a grunt. He proceeded to scoot out of the small booth, hunched over the table.

Letting the glasses go, you pressed down on Ari’s shoulders hard to shove him back into his seat. His eyes widened in surprise at the forceful touch as he sat back down, but you knew you hadn’t hurt him. If anything, he lurched back from you since he didn’t want to bump into you while attempting to get out.

“Goddammit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” you scolded him in feigned anger. You grabbed the glasses quickly and scurried away before he could respond. You only heard him and Sammy laughing at your retreat before the chatter from the other end of the bar became more prominent as you approached.

Setting the two glasses down on an empty section of the bar top, you leaned over slightly to catch Rachel’s perceptive gaze. She nodded with a smile on her face as she made you two new drinks. Glancing around the rest of the bar with mild interest, you couldn’t help but reflect on Ari’s intimate reveal.

A smile spread onto your lips, and you let out a small laugh to yourself. You were in love with a man who communicated with short hums and grunts, and with only three words—he had unraveled you. You felt so happy in that moment to be with someone who could meet you where you were, for once.

At first, you were intimidated by the looming lumberjack, but as you got to know each other, you grew to understand that he didn’t need big, fancy words to connect with you. Ari was the kind of partner who was straightforward with you and never hid anything maliciously while still respecting the integrity of your relationship. You felt grateful to be a part of each other’s lives.

Floating mindlessly in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man staring at you across the bar. You also didn’t notice him approaching until you heard him say, “Hey there, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

Glancing over, the giddiness you felt thinking about your relationship with Ari was now interrupted by feelings of annoyance and suspicion. “I’m good, thanks,” you responded dismissively, not even bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, c’mon—just wanna talk a bit. Hey, are you with anyone right now?” the guy persisted.

Looking at the intrusive person, you could tell he was a bit younger than you. His polo shirt was disheveled, and his demeanor seemed careless. If his side-swept hair wasn’t an indication of his immaturity, it was the way he reeked of alcohol and weed. A smug smile lifted on his face as he assumed you were checking him out, when in reality, you were trying to piece together how to shut this down and walk around him on your way back to the booth.

“Uh, I am. Just waiting for our drinks,” you answered shortly, hoping your dismissiveness would be enough to make him go away. Heckling men never seem to take the hint when you’re not interested, and it seems like telling them off only riles them up more.

“Well, if I were your friend, I certainly wouldn’t have let you come up here by yourself. There are some weirdos out here, y’know?” He leaned onto the bar and into you, his body too close for comfort. You leaned back and crossed your arms defensively.

“I’m sorry—let me? Listen, kid—you got one thing right: there are weirdos out here. Almost like some weirdos just don’t seem to get the hint when they’re harassing women who only want to be left alone by the bar.” You couldn’t hold in your snark as this misogynistic asshole seemed to only smile wider at your reactions.

“Right! That’s why you’re lucky I’m here, sweetheart. Considering that I’m being so helpful by giving you this piece of advice, I think that now makes us friends.” He laughed, ignoring your irritation.

“Everything okay here?” You looked up to find Rachel putting down the newly made beers while looking the stranger dead in the eyes. You could see him squirm a bit, and you stifled a giggle—you were always amused to see her put men in their place.

“It’s okay, Rach. I’m heading back to those two dummies, anyway.” You left some bills on the counter. Rachel gave you a look since she always insisted drinks were on the house for you, but you never really listened. She took the money anyway, gave the guy one last daggered look, and made a small dismissive sound before leaving to attend to other customers.

Ignoring Rachel’s reaction, he turned to you and said, “Well, where are these two dummies you speak of? Are they cute like you?” He looked over at the general crowd of women lingering behind you.

You cleared your throat at his blatant ignorance. “Actually, my two dummies are over there.” You pointed to the back where Sammy and Ari’s profiles could be briefly seen.

He followed your hand to see the two men sitting there and let out a surprised “ah.” He looked back at you after seeing the men but couldn’t help but do a double take once he recognized one of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy’s friend?” he asked incredulously, looking at you expectantly.

You gave him a warning look and made an affronted sound. “Careful. ‘Friends’ don’t talk to their friends like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You gestured to take your drinks, which seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Hey, hey—wait! Relax, relax. That just took me off guard, but… I mean, you do know what he did, right?” He gave you the same look others would give you, almost disgusted, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘girl like you’ would be with a ‘guy like him.’

Your eyes narrowed and you huffed an exasperated breath, preparing to retort, but were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Yo, Bryce, hurry up!” You looked to the end of the bar to see another young man in a polo (god, these entitled kids are a dime a dozen) looking over at you. They wore the same cocky, smug smiles, and you were immediately done with this interaction.

Letting out a scoff, you replied, “Well, Bryce, it’s been real. Now, please, leave me alone.” Not mincing words nor your mocking tone, you started to grab your drinks when you froze in place, frowning as you noticed one of your drinks had an abnormal fizz on top.

“Are you kidding me? Did he just…?” Your thoughts felt scattered as you realized that your drink had been spiked. Your frown persisted as you looked back at Bryce in disbelief. “Did you really just do that?”

Bryce looked nonchalant at your question and, almost innocently, responded, “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He had a dopey look on his face, but he couldn’t even hide his rising grin at your growing outrage. You knew you weren’t overreacting and you knew what you saw in your drink.

“You just spiked my drink—what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You accused and turned to catch Rachel’s attention. A strong grip twisted your arm back to Bryce as he looked at you with something completely vile in his eyes. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear with venom as you leaned back and attempted to get his hand off you. “Stuck-up bitch. You know you would’ve been asking for it if you didn’t have your killer boyfriend to cover you.”

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you panic even more, his unrelenting grip getting tighter by the second. You shouted while trying to push him off you, “Get the fuck off of me! LET GO!”

You flailed your limbs more in your attempts to make a scene. You heard a barstool crash to the ground loudly, and all of a sudden Bryce’s fingers were no longer around your arm. The only thing in your vision was a person’s vast back.

Ari.

Catching your breath from your panic, the sounds of the bar that had seemed to mute during your thrashing suddenly tuned back in. You registered pained groans and the utter silence, yet concerned murmurs scattered across the room. Looking over from behind Ari’s back, you saw Sammy putting a hand in between Ari and Bryce, who was now on the floor, clutching his nose with blood spilling out rapidly.

“You fucking prick! I’ll press charges!” Bryce shouted from the ground as his friends crowded around him, trying to get him up.

Rachel raised her voice to be heard amidst the chaos and said, “I saw what happened, asshole. I’d be happy to call the cops and let them know about you and your buddies’ attempts to sexually harass my customers.”

Bryce, now being held up by his friends, looked over at Rachel menacingly. Rachel didn’t back down and walked towards the phone on the wall. “Shall we?”

Bryce hissed in pain from his new injury and looked back to meet Ari’s stone-cold eyes. Sammy turned to face Bryce and his friends with a look of caution, almost ready to get into a fight if it came to that.

Bryce took a heavy gulp, attempting to stare Ari down with bravado. He then locked his jaw and scoffed, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

The bouncer suddenly appeared behind you, making you startle slightly, and pushed the group toward the exit. As they got closer, you hid yourself behind Ari’s back and gripped his shirt tightly for comfort. You could feel Ari’s hand reach for your waist, and you assumed he could sense your shaking and wanted to offer you more protection and ease.

In your peripheral vision, you could see and feel Bryce’s eyes staring at you, almost as if he wanted to say one last thing. But Ari’s grip on your waist tightened as he turned to face Bryce directly, orienting you with him and blocking his gaze from you. Though you couldn’t see it, Ari looked deadly in that moment, removing any access Bryce had to your presence.

“If you ever come back in here, and if I ever see you near her again, I will hurt you,” Ari said quietly, but his warning reverberated across the large space. “And you know that I’m good for it.”

Bryce, still clutching his nose, averted his gaze and continued moving toward the exit.

As the group exited, people still looked over but gradually returned to their tables and muttered conversations. The jukebox came back on at a lower volume, and people eventually resumed their activities.

You were still clutching Ari’s back as you released a sigh of relief. You leaned into him, your forehead resting between his shoulders. The adrenaline had left you with residual energy, and it was noticeably hard for you to regulate your emotions. Ari heard you release one more exhale in an attempt to calm down before he turned to meet your tight grip with his strong hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby.” He released your hands with one last squeeze and cupped your face sweetly. He whispered more reassurances as he pulled your face close to his and leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sammy, we’re gonna get going.” Ari glanced at the teary-eyed look on your face and knew you couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t have expected you to, either—he was accustomed to chaotic and loud environments, able to regulate during scary situations. Ari knew this was exceptionally jarring for you, and he desperately wanted to protect you from any feelings of unsafety. His priority since you entered his life was to preserve your softness, and if his hard exterior could help do that, he would go to any length to ensure you felt secure with him.

“Of course, check in and get home safe.” You also turned to give Sammy and Rachel a soft smile and a quiet ‘thank you.’ If there was any effort to expend, it would be that.

They returned your smile with reminders to be safe while driving home, and Ari took your small hand in his to lead you to the exit. You both passed by the bouncer, who returned Ari’s thanks for earlier with an affirmative nod and also gave you a parting “feel better.” You muttered your appreciation and clutched Ari’s forearm with your other hand still in his. You felt that if you weren’t right by his side, if he weren’t touching you, the panic would rush back in.

On the car ride back to Ari’s place, you kept yourself as close to him as possible. The truck’s seats facilitated closeness; Ari wrapped his right arm around you protectively while driving with his left.

Ari appreciated that you felt safe with him. Unbeknownst to you, his own panic about losing you crept in whenever you weren’t by his side.

His arm wrapped around you tighter, and his caress provided comfort for him as well during the rest of the ride home.

Later that night, after Ari got out of the shower, you noticed cuts on his knuckles from his punch earlier.

“Ari, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Come here.” You scolded him as you led the giant of a man (a very half-naked, still wet giant of a man—okay, focus) to sit on the toilet seat.

“Baby, it’s fine—” Ari began to say, but you interrupted him, “Honey, let me do this—why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” Ari let out a rare scoffed smile at ​​your dramatic flair before acknowledging you with his usual grunt. You returned his smile and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Ari watched you as you ventured over to the bathroom counter to gather the first aid kit. You were already in your sleep clothes—simple camisole and shorts. Though he remained silent, you could feel his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. You glanced up at the wide mirror and caught him in the act as his gaze lingered a bit too long on your ass. You stifled a small laugh, and his eyes met yours unashamedly.

You turned to walk back over to him, and his eyes never left yours as you took his palm gently between your hands. As you cleaned the small wound, you could feel his gaze burning on your skin. You took your time patching him up, and with the last bandage, you brought his burly hand to your lips, planting a meaningful kiss on his knuckles. Continuing to brush your lips against the back of his hand, you left more kisses until you reached the underside of his wrist.

Ari’s gaze darkened with every peck of affection you left on his clean skin. As you raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, Ari’s other arm wrapped around the low of your waist, pulling you in closer. Deciding you weren’t close enough, you straddled his towel-clad waist. Enjoying the intimacy, you both savored the simplicity of feeling safe in each other’s embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you softly caressed his wet strands of hair away from his face. Tucking your face into the crevice of his neck, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly, feeling his large hands rub up and down your back. You felt so small enveloped in his arms.

“Look at me, baby,” Ari whispered softly. He laid a calloused hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. His other arm remained wrapped around you to support you, and he said, “I know that we don’t talk about this often enough, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You gave Ari a confused look. “I know that, Ari. I trust you. I always feel safe with you.” His eyes were full of concern as you rushed to reassure him. Your own hand rested on his bearded cheek. “I know that what happened at the mill last year has lingered a bit.”

He turned his gaze downward until you cooed at him, making him look back at you. “Hey, I know you. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right. At that moment, it was about protecting Sammy. The guy was making threats against you both. It made sense that you went to defend yourself.”

Ari was quiet for a minute. You continued stroking his cheek to let him process. This was a vulnerable conversation for Ari that his usual grunts couldn’t explain.

He broke the silence by saying, “I lied to you.”

Your heart froze, and you felt even more confused. Your hand dropped back down to grip his bulky shoulder. “What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

Ari met your curious gaze with an ashamed look. “He wasn’t making threats against Sammy… he was saying things about you. Us. How a woman like you shouldn’t be with someone like me—‘damaged goods.’”

Lines formed between your eyebrows as you tried to register what Ari was saying. Leaning into your silence, he continued, “Then he started saying that he would be a better fit for you. He talked about all the ways he would treat you better, and then he shoved me and… I just lost it.” Ari’s mouth twisted grimly, and his eyes held a weighted look. “I just… didn’t want to lose you.”

Swallowing thickly, you reflected on that time in your relationship when you heard about Ari being involved in an accident at the mill. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized there had been no accident, and that Ari had put his co-worker in the hospital. Of course, you worried about the implications of his actions and what it would mean for the two of you. At a certain point, you did question your safety with Ari.

But you remembered meeting him at the station when the police let him go due to it being self-defense (and many of Ari’s co-workers, including Sammy, vouching for the incident). He had the same look that he had now—fear.

In that moment, despite what he had done, you knew there was something so strong and willed behind his reaction. He was so protective and gentle with you, and you believed him. You believed that that was the man that you were falling in love with. You just never would have guessed it came from the fear of losing you.

Realizing you had been quiet for a while as you processed your feelings and what you wanted to say, Ari didn’t move from his position. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for your response.

Releasing a slow breath, you cupped Ari’s face in your hands and looked him in the eye. “You protect, Ari, that’s just what you do.”

Ari exhaled in relief and felt a dark weight lift off of his shoulders, his stomach no longer churning, while putting his forehead to your chest. He moved his arms under your butt and lifted you slightly to do this but you embraced him openly. You stroked his hair again as he started kissing your exposed skin above your breast until he was laying a series of soft kisses up your neck. You both knew what his kisses really meant: “I’m sorry, I love you.”

You hummed out a soft moan as his lips found that spot under your ear that felt extra sensitive to his touch. Turning his face to meet your cheek, he tilted his head slightly so that he could finally reach your mouth. You allowed Ari to control the pace of the kiss and moaned when you felt his tongue softly caress yours. 

The tension in the air quickly thickened into something more primal and electric from Ari’s confession. There was something about this huge, strong man protecting only you that made you feel so worshiped and desired. These feelings start to overcome you and you move to sit on top of Ari’s towel-covered erection only to grind yourself down on him. Ari groaned sensually into the kiss at the feeling of delicious pressure sitting on his hard cock. Your mouths continue languidly meeting each other when you let out a squeak from Ari suddenly gripping your thighs tightly to carry you back into the bedroom. 

You released a squeal as Ari threw you on top of the bed before dropping his towel on the floor. Breathing heavier, you backed up on the bed to get a better look at his glorious sculpted figure and Ari only smirked at your hooded eyes gazing all over his body. Standing at the edge of the bed, Ari decided that you were too far away and he gripped your ankle to roughly tug you back towards him. Letting out another brief squeal and giggle, you quickly sought into his rhythm as he kneeled onto the bed. 

His bulking mass overshadowed you as he leaned forward to place more deceivingly gentle kisses upon the exposed skin of your stomach where your tank top rode up. Your stomach fluttered as you could feel his kisses getting wetter, and were leading down towards your cotton-clad pussy. You whined in anticipation as Ari gently tugged off your shorts to reveal your soaking core. 

Ari let out a deep groan at the sight of your pussy weeping for his touch. Using his hands to spread your legs open to make space for his massive stature, you gasped for air even though he has barely touched you. You stroke the hands holding you down and beg, “Ari, please. Please do something.” 

At your begging, Ari released a louder groan this time. “God, baby. Look at you just creaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me to take care of you, sweet girl?” 

He used his forearms to hold your already squirming legs down as he used his thumb to cut through a string of wet and reveal your thrumming pink clit. Not being able to resist his own yearning, he gave a firm lick up your cunt and released a deep groan at the first taste of you on his tongue. “Oh fuck, you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned and went back into your cunt for more. 

You sobbed your pleasure at the feeling of his tongue caressing your wet folds, “Yes, please, Ari– please!” His tongue continued licking all over your pussy while he released his own small moans at the taste of you. He made sure to thrust his tongue into your soaked opening before licking his way back towards your now puffy clit. 

Your moans steadily increased in volume and small, short-bursts of whimpers fell out of your mouth as Ari devoured you. Feeling his lips suction at your clit, you mewl and feel his thick finger start to breach your entrance. Your head fell back on the bed, your mouth agape at the sheer pleasure you were receiving from your man. One hand tightly gripping the sheet next to you and the other wrapped in Ari’s hair as you kept him in place, your hips started to thrust back into his mouth and fingers. Not expecting for you to turn so wildly, Ari’s mouth left your clit unwillingly. Letting out a whine at the loss of warmth, you press down on the back of Ari’s head to get him back into position. 

But all of a sudden, you felt a sharp smack on your ass and you let out a yelp. Ari was still thrusting his finger, and inserting a second one, at a slower pace when he looked up at you. His lips and beard glistened with your wetness when he said darkly, “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand me, baby?”

You could only respond with a soft whimper before letting out another cry as he slapped your ass again. “I said, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Ari, I understand.” You responded with a glazed look in your eye at the combination of pain from his smacks and pleasure from his domineering words. 

“There’s my sweet girl, so good for me.” Ari said before he kissed his way back to your sopping cunt, his fingers thrusting faster now as his mouth created a suction on your clit again. Releasing out a louder cry at the transition, you could feel Ari’s fingers start to push deeper and curve inside of you to find your g-spot. You let out a sharp gasp once you felt him start to stroke that spongy spot over and over again while his tongue started to softly create a rhythmic pattern on your throbbing bud. 

The other thing about your relationship with Ari is that he was the most vocal when you were fucking. He always let you know how you felt around him and freely praised you as you gave each other the most visceral and intense experience. Anticipating more from him, your body rolled with his fingers to get him even deeper inside of you.

Only squeaking out sounds now, your high-pitched tones of pleasure were music to Ari’s ears. Your wet starting to squelch around his fingers and spurt out of you, Ari knew you were almost there. His fingers thrusted faster into you and curved in deeper with each thrust. He groaned, “Hmm, yeah baby? Is this the spot right here?”

You couldn’t conjure up a response as you were only experiencing the immense pleasure that he was giving to you and almost animalistic groans started leaving your throat. Ari looked up to see your head thrown back on the bed and your upper body contorting, your tanktop having ridden up and was now showing your beautiful perky, round breasts. Nipples peaked in heightened pleasure. Witnessing you like this was a privilege for Ari and he never thought you looked more beautiful than when you were writhing for him in the bedroom. 

A deep desire to witness more of you, Ari increased his efforts by pushing down on your tummy just above your mount. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Be a good girl for me, and let me have it. Let go for me.” He breathes against your slit while giving you one last intentional suck and rapid licking at your clit. 

Inhaling sharply, his words were your undoing as you felt that tight knot inside of you tear in ecstasy. Your head tossed back in euphoria as you cum hard, your pussy clenched around his fingers. Though, Ari didn’t stop thrusting his fingers deep inside of you. Whispering good girl and so sweet against your thrumming folds as he continued to coach you through your release. 

You let out a satiated whimper at experiencing your orgasm but Ari wasn’t stopping. If anything, his fingers curved into your g-spot faster and his tongue licked harder at your humming, swollen clit. You did thrash at the overstimulation. Your disobedience resulted in Ari slapping your ass once more. Even though it was served as a punishment, it seemed to only end up heightening your yearning for a second release. Noticing that your juices were spurting out excessively now, Ari kept slapping your ass as your pussy gripped tighter onto his large fingers. 

Letting out a myriad of whimpers and desperate moans, you sobbed out, “Ari please, please…I can’t do it, please!”

“Yes, you can baby, you can. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You couldn’t answer him other than your random babblings– you couldn’t even think as you felt so consumed by the pleasure that he was giving you. You felt like you were being consumed by him and adored at the same time. 

A cry left your lips as he slapped your ass harder. “I asked you a question, are you my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, please, let me cum, please!” You sobbed out. 

Ari grunted deeply, “Your pussy is begging for it– you hear that?” He quieted only for the sounds of your own wetness slopping out of you to fill the space. “Mmm, see, I know you can do it, just one more, love.” Ari went back to suckling on your clit while he rubbed and grabbed at your now pink-colored flesh. 

Hearing him use this endearment again as his lips never left your body made your eyes roll up and you inadvertently held your breath as you let go for the second time. You register Ari’s moans and praise against your clit as you squirt your cum into his awaiting mouth. 

All you could let out were quiet mumbles of satisfaction as Ari’s fingers slowed. Your body was still jerking as it carried out aftershocks of your release, and you let out another sharp breath as Ari left one last kiss on your velvety folds. 

You were attempting to catch your breath as Ari kissed his way up your body, spending some time on your nipples by taking one in his mouth while his hand caressed your other breast. Ari brought up his fingers that were just inside of you to stroke your nipple and groaned as you glistened with your own cum. Leaning down, he took your nipple in his mouth again to suck it clean. You moaned softly and arched your back to give him more access as your hands stroked affectionately through his hair.  

Working his way back towards your bite-ridden lips, Ari slanted his wet mouth over yours as you taste yourself on his tongue. The both of you moaned as you continued making out leisurely. Ari pulled back to lick your lips sensually before dipping into your open mouth one more time for his tongue to meet yours in a passionate, sloppy dance.

Ari stroked your hair away from your face. “You ready for my cock, baby?” 

You whined and nodded as he leaned down to give you another wet kiss. You feel him reaching for his cock, hard and resting on your clit heavily. You mewled at him again as he slapped your clit with the wide mushroom head of his cock and he pushed in slowly. 

Groaning together at the feel of his thick cock bottoming in you, Ari lets out a strained moan. “Fuuuck baby, your pretty pussy is just sucking me in. Agh, so tight.” 

He withdrew until he was almost out of you before thrusting back into you deeply. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open as you could feel the veins on his girthy cock graze your inner walls. 

Ari leaned his head back in ecstasy at the feel of you clenching around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out your name, “Yes, take it, baby. Take my fat cock.” 

You felt like you could barely breathe as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was sinking in so deep and you were gasping for air at all of the sensations your body was experiencing. Besides your mutual groans and moans, the sounds of your union could be heard as you only became wetter at the stimulation. 

“I’m so full, so full…so big, Ari.” You mumbled out, your eyes crossed in ecstasy. Ari let out a condescending laugh, “Aww, look at you. Can’t even speak, can you? Just continue taking my cock, honey, you’re so good at it.” 

Ari leaned up and thrust out of you, despite your desperate whining, only to turn you on your stomach. You feel him kneel outside of your thighs that were clenched together, and only had time to hold onto the pillow in front of you as he thrust back in. You gasped out a high pitched moan and small, repeated sounds of pleasure came out of your mouth as you felt his long shaft pit up against your g-spot with every thrust. 

“There she is, yesss. You’re so fucking tight when I take you like this, baby. Your pussy is gripping me like a vice, goddamn.” Ari groaned louder as your warmth enveloped him. Tension started brewing again deep inside your belly as he thrust faster into you. 

Leaning down, his chest was damp and his hair grazed your smooth skin as it met your back. He lifted you slightly to wrap his right hand around your neck and squeezed. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine. This pussy is mine, your body. I’ll always protect you, you hear me, love?”

Gripping onto the pillow in front of you fiercely, you couldn’t contain your moans that were now resonating in the room. His possessiveness, his fingers gripping your throat so protectively, and the passion in his words made you feel so hot, you felt that coil in your belly about to snap. The sensation pulling at that area inside of you that felt so full and relieving when released. “Ari, yes, I’m yours! You’re gonna make me cum again!” 

“Yeah, I am, love. Soak my cock, make a mess with my pussy.” He released the grip on your throat to lean back up and take your hips in his hands for full control. His thrusts were consistently hard and deep. It twisted that coil inside of you so delightfully that you finally snapped and cried out your orgasm. 

Ari’s thrusts became sloppier as your juices squirted around his cock. He bellowed out a deep and low groan from his strained throat and followed you as you rode out your orgasm against him. You moan at the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you and feeling him cum so deep in your pussy made you feel like you were being claimed. His dick was still buried deep inside as you gyrated against him. At the overstimulation, Ari thrust out of you with a sharp hiss and a mixture of your cum with his started to spurt out of you. 

“Fuck, so pretty, baby. Here, let me help you.” He breathed out heavily while his hand left your hip to use his finger to push your combined cum back into your quivering pussy. You moaned out at the sensation of his thick finger thrusting his warm spend further into you and mewled in content. 

Ari kneaded and squeezed your ass one last time before attempting to get off the bed to get a towel to clean you up but you clutched his hand before he could fully leave and pleaded, “Wait baby, stay. Can you just…hold me, please?”

He picked up the hand that you were holding to kiss the back of yours softly and collapsed on the bed next to you as you leaned into his outstretched arms. Cuddling him as your head rested over his chest, you felt him graze his fingers soothingly on your arm. You both were satiated in your passionate release, and after the day that you had, you both were starting to feel the effects of it. 

Embracing you in his arms, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin felt like heaven against him. Before his sleepy eyes shut completely, you gave him a gentle tap above his heart to get his attention one last time. He peered down at you and gave you a relaxed grin. With his familiar grunt, his eyes questioned your touch. 

You gazed into his blue eyes that were filled with such affection, the same glint that you saw earlier at the bar. A familiar burning in your eyes started to come on at his stare, but you blinked them away to smile back fondly at him. 

“I love you too, Ari.” 

A/N: Welp! We made it -- I'm hoping ya'll enjoyed Ari and reader on this one. Something about Lumberjack!Ari being protective and only having eyes for you makes me feral and that can be the only explanation as to why this is so long lol. I would love to know what ya'll thought! Speak soon, lads~

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[fictionally-driven]

Bruises and Blossoms

Pairing: Jiyan x f! Midnight Rangers reader Word count: 3165 words Trigger warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of death. Plot: Jiyan is gravely injured and saved by the resilient and resourceful field medic, (Y/N), whose unwavering dedication and quick thinking catch his eye amidst the chaos of war.

Author Note: I have been writing fics about WuWa characters developing feelings for someone. I could not help but indulge in this after playing WuWa from the past few days. If you liked it, then reblogs are appreciated, Thank you!

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of smoke. Tacet Discords, their dark forms swirling like a malevolent storm, descended upon them. Jiyan led his troops into the fray against the looming threat to Jinzhou and Huanglong. His blade cut through the fog on the enemy with lethal precision.

But the Tacet Discords were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as they swarmed over the battlefield. It felt like an other outbreak was on the verge of breaking through and Jiyan was resolved to quell it before it got to that point. Jiyan fought with all his strength, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he pushed himself beyond his limits to protect his troops from the brunt of the attacks.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, a joint attack from the Crownless and the Tempest Memphis caught Jiyan off guard. Despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed, his vision blurring as pain seared through his body. Blood filled Jiyan's mouth as he struggled to maintain his footing, his ears ringing with the clamor of battle. But even in the midst of his pain, he refused to yield, his determination unwavering as he faced his enemies head-on. Slaying the crownless, Jiyan collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover. Black spots emerged in his vision and he shook his head, trying to remain focused. Amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the din, pulling him back from the brink of darkness.

An on-field medic approached at Jiyan's side "General! focus on me," she urged, her voice firm yet comforting as she assessed his injuries. Her hands moving with practiced precision as she tended to his injuries with the supplies she was carrying. "Let me patch you up."

But Jiyan, his resolve as strong as ever, swatted her hand away. He insisted that he was fine, his voice strained with pain. "There are others who need your help more than I do," he protested, his gaze flickering with concern for his troops. “I’ll be alright.”

Yet the medic, undeterred by Jiyan's protests, remained steadfast in her resolve. "You need medical attention, General," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let me do my job."

"I'm not leaving you like this," She retorted, her tone firm as she continued to patch up Jiyan's injuries. "No man left behind, remember?"

As she outlined Jiyan's injuries in her terminal, recording and transmitting the message to the infirmary, she detailed the extent of his wounds. "He's broken his arm, sustained a deep femoral artery laceration, and has multiple contusions and abrasions," she reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "We'll need a transfusion and surgical intervention."

With practiced efficiency, she stabilized Jiyan's broken arm, carefully wrapping it in a makeshift splint to prevent further injury after removing his signature midnight green gardebras. Administering pain medication, she sought to alleviate his discomfort, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked.

As she wrapped a tourniquet around his open wound to stem the bleeding, she barked commands to the surrounding troops, directing them to cover their path back to the infirmary. "We need a clear path, now!" She pointed to two soldiers. “You two. Cover for me and the general till we make it to the infirmary. Take defense positions at the back.” She then points to another soldier beside them. “You take the front. What? Do I look like I have sprouted two horns? Move. Now!”  With Jiyan's uninjured arm draped around her, she lifted the general up, staggering a bit due to his weight before stabilizing herself.

Despite his delirium from the pain and blood loss, Jiyan couldn't help but notice the warmth of her presence, her lively nature. "You're like a whirlwind, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with admiration as she dragged him towards the relative safety of the infirmary.

Despite the chaos and confusion of the battlefield, Jiyan finds himself drawn to the medic at his side. Was she glowing? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. How could someone be so beautiful, almost amidst the carnage of war? Though the scent of blood and smoke filled his senses, he could still smell was the antiseptic and medicines that she had used on him, comforting him. As she dragged him towards the infirmary, Jiyan weakly protested against her, insisting that he would be fine. She seemingly ignored his words, only to focus on the task at hand. And in that moment, as he clung to her for support, Jiyan knew that he was in good hands.

Inside the infirmary, the harsh lights made everything seem too bright and painful. Jiyan was gently lowered onto the bed, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the medic busied herself. Jiyan’s eyes fixed on her, noting the blood, his blood, smeared on her skin and on her clavicle. He noticed the small injuries that marred her too. Her hair, disheveled from the chaos, fell out of place from its tie, framing her face. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “You are injured too. Make sure to get it patched.”

She glanced at him, a mix of frustration and tenderness in her eyes. "You need to rest, General," she admonished, her voice soft yet firm. "Let us handle the battlefield for now. Your troops need you to recover."

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his vision blurring again. "You... you're quite something," he murmured, his voice trailing off. “What is your name, soldier?”

She stood up, her expression softening as she looked down at him. "And you're quite stubborn," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Take care and recover soon. Your troops have got this, and you need to focus on resting." She wiped his blood off her using a few wet wipes as more medics gathered to tend to the general. “My name is (Y/N).” She said, as the medics began working on treating him.

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Thank you, (Y/N)." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling. “Let the medics tend to you. I’ll be off now.”

As she turned to leave, her figure was haloed by the harsh light, making her seem almost ethereal. Jiyan watched her go, the scent of antiseptic and the warmth of her presence lingering even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Days had passed since the chaotic battle, and Jiyan, who transferred to the hospital in Jinzhou city was gradually recovering. His body, still wrapped in bandages and dressings, bore the marks of the intense skirmish. His broken arm was securely cast, the deep laceration on his hip stitched and bandaged, and the myriad of contusions and abrasions were cleaned and dressed. The medics had done their job well, but amidst their care, Jiyan's mind lingered on one thought: the medic who had saved him.

(Y/N), she had said her name was. She hadn't served directly under him before, always stationed at a distant outpost. The recent upheavals had brought many changes to their forces, including her reassignment to the Northern border of Huanglong. He'd learned through her records that she was exemplary, her combat skills and medical background making her a perfect fit for an on-field medic. Jiyan knew he needed to thank her, not just for her skillful treatment, but for her unwavering determination to save his life.

Her image was etched into his mind: her firm yet gentle hands tending to his wounds, her unwavering resolve, and that fleeting moment when he had tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Despite the pain and blood loss, he remembered the warmth of her presence

The Tacet Discord outbreak from that fateful day had been contained, though at a grave cost. Several lives had been lost, each one a heavy burden on Jiyan's heart. As he regained his strength, he prepared himself for a somber duty he never neglected: honoring the fallen. With a pouch of Emortia seeds in his hand, Jiyan made his way to Knell Square, the hallowed ground where he planted these seeds to commemorate the soldiers who had perished in battle.

Stepping out into the streets of Jinzhou, Jiyan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The city was alive with activity, but he sought solace in the quieter parts. His path took him away from the bustling marketplace, past the familiar landmarks of the city, and towards Knell Square.

As Jiyan approached the square, the familiar sight of Emortia flowers greeted him, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. He paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene, his heart heavy with the names and faces of the comrades he had lost. But then, his gaze caught sight of a solitary figure standing by the flower bed, lost in thought.

(Y/N) stood there, her posture relaxed yet somehow somber. She seemed absorbed in the sight of the flowers; her eyes distant as if she were communing with the spirits of those who had passed. The soft light of the late afternoon cast a gentle glow on her, highlighting the subtle strength and grace that had left such an impression on him.

Jiyan's heart skipped a beat as he watched her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories from the battlefield. He wondered what she was thinking about, what memories or emotions had drawn her to this quiet place. He took a moment to observe her, the way her eyes seemed to soften as she looked at the flowers, the way her hands gently brushed against the petals. He cleared his throat, stepping beside her. "I didn’t expect to run into you in Jinzhou."

(Y/N) turned to him, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "General Jiyan," she greeted, her voice soft. “I see that you are recovering quickly.” She turned back to the flowers. “I was here to collect some personal supplies and stopped by to admire these flowers. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jiyan nodded, stepping closer to stand beside her. "They do. Each one represents a life, a sacrifice. It's a way for me to remember and honor them. I plant these seeds for the rangers who lost their lives." he said quietly.

She looked back at the flowers; her expression thoughtful. "These flowers... they carry so many memories…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. Jiyan took a deep breath, summoning the words he had been wanting to say. "Thank you," he began, his voice earnest. "For saving me that day. I owe you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) waved a hand dismissively, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "I was just doing my duty, General. But next time, let me do my job without fighting back.” There was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You of all people should know that without a general, the army would have fallen into disarray."

Jiyan felt a pang of sheepishness at her words, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right," he admitted. "I was stubborn. But so were you. Your quick thinking and actions saved me. Your efforts will be formally acknowledged."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No need for formalities, General. Knowing that you're alive and well is enough for me. I don't want praise," (Y/N) said, her voice firm yet soft. "I didn't do it for the recognition. I did it because it's my duty, and I want to be more efficient in that duty. I could have saved more lives that day if I was better."

Jiyan nodded slowly. "I do. It's a heavy burden, knowing lives depend on your actions. But that's also what makes it so important."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flashing in them. "That's right. You were a medic before you became a general. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Jiyan smiled faintly. "It's not something I talk about often, but it's a part of who I am."

She gave him an incredulous look, almost looking offended. “You, of all people, should know better than to resist treatment on the battlefield! Next time, I'll tie you up if I have to."

A chuckle escaped Jiyan before he could stop it, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise. "Something the matter?" he asked, bemused.

She shook her head, a look of astonishment on her face. "I don't think I've ever heard you chuckle before," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "It suits you more than your usual frown and scowl."

Jiyan was momentarily stunned by her words. He wasn't used to such candid observations about his demeanor. "I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) returned his smile, her gaze focused on the sky for a moment, "I'll leave you to your moment with the flowers, General," she said, stepping back to give him space.

As she began to walk away, Jiyan found himself not wanting her to leave just yet. "Wait," he called after her, his voice catching slightly. "Would you... would you help me plant these seeds?"

(Y/N) turned back, her smile widening as she walked back to him. "Of course, General. I'd be honored."

They knelt together by the flower bed, the pouch of Emortia seeds in Jiyan's hand. He handed a few seeds to (Y/N), their fingers brushing lightly. Together, they dug small holes in the soil, carefully placing the seeds within.

"Each seed represents a life," Jiyan said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "A sacrifice that must never be forgotten."

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes reflecting the same solemn respect. "And each flower that blooms is a reminder of their bravery and our duty to honor them."

They worked in silence for a while, the act of planting the seeds almost meditative. The gentle rustling of the flowers and the distant sounds of the city created a peaceful backdrop to their task.

As they finished planting the last of the seeds, Jiyan looked at (Y/N), admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For everything."

(Y/N) smiled, her lively spirit shining through once more. "You're welcome, General. And thank you for your service. We all rely on your strength and leadership."

With the seeds planted, they stood together, taking a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of Knell Square. The Emortia flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals a symbol of hope and remembrance.

"I should be going," (Y/N) said softly. "But if you ever need someone to tie you down for treatment again, you know where to find me, General."

Jiyan chuckled, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. “And please, call me Jiyan.”

“Jiyan…” She repeated, nodding at him. “Alright then, I’ll do just that.”

As (Y/N) repeated his name, a warm feeling spread through his chest. He didn't want her to leave just yet. There was something about her presence that he found comforting, something that made him want to know more about her.

He recalled Mortefi's words, a dear friend who often chided him for being too stoic and reserved. "You need to put yourself out there, Jiyan. Go on dates, meet new people, relax a little. Stop being a tragic brooding hero all the damn time and go live your life."

Jiyan had never thought he desired companionship. After all, the Jué had entrusted him with a duty, a responsibility that he had always taken seriously. But this woman, (Y/N), had come out of nowhere, stirring feelings within him that he had never felt before. It made him yearn for more and all he wanted was to be the subject of her attention at the moment.

Summoning his courage, Jiyan hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, his voice slightly awkward. "Um, (Y/N), wait!"

She turned back, a curious expression on her face as she regarded him. Jiyan stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. At this very moment, he felt as if he would rather fight a horde of the Crownless than speak his mind.  "I, uh, I was wondering if... if it would be alright for us to, um, go out for a nice dinner? And maybe catch a lion dance performance after?"

(Y/N) turned back, a slight smile playing on her lips as she observed Jiyan's flustered state. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jiyan hesitated, first blurting out. “N-no…that’s...” He immediately corrected himself. "I... uh... yes, I suppose I am," he admitted, his voice slightly uncertain. "If... if that's not out of line, I mean. I'm sorry, I should probably let you be..."

(Y/N) giggled, the sound light and musical, easing some of Jiyan's anxiety. "It's endearing to see the General so flustered," she said, her tone gentle and kind. “I’d like to see more of this side of yours, Jiyan.” She met his gaze, still amused. “So yes, I'd like to go on this date if you're still up for it."

Relief flooded through Jiyan, mingled with a newfound sense of excitement. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but now that she had, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. “Yes. It... Its settled then.”

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and inviting. "Alright then, Jiyan. When and where?"

Jiyan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "There's a lovely restaurant near the theatre. How about we meet there at seven tonight or is that too soon...?"

"Seven sounds perfect," she agreed. "I'll see you then."

As they exchanged contact information on their terminals, Jiyan's heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He watched as (Y/N) took off, her graceful form moving with purpose, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. With a final wave and a cheerful reminder to take care, she disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving Jiyan standing there with a smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the spot where she had vanished, the memory of her infectious laughter and warm smile etched into his mind. For a moment, he placed his uninjured hand on top of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. Yes, even he, General Jiyan, renowned for his stoicism and unwavering dedication to duty, found himself looking forward to tonight and the possibility of many more nights spent in (Y/N)'s company.

WuWa Masterlist

[untoldsoup]

Thanks to my unending insomnia I was able to push this update out two days sooner than planned lol. Things are starting to heat up in the story, and the next update will be even wilder. If you enjoyed the chapter let me know, comments and reblogs really help. I put a ton of effort into drawing and coloring these pages. Anyway I'll be taking a two week break to prevent burnout before I start working on the next pages :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: comic typical violence, inappropriate reactions to pain, threats of violence, possession, fire

Previous: Chapter 3 part 2

Next: TBD

This is a sequel, Start from the beginning here!

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part II

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. gun/physical violence, blood, dead bodies, etc), very vague indication of past sexual assault, additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

A/N: thank you guys so much for all the love you gave the first part, it means so much to me 🥺 Hope you enjoy this chapter too (Y/N and Jungkook bicker for like half of it 💀)

<< previous part || masterlist || next part >>

It was supposed to be simple. 

You kill Jungkook, breaking up the alliance between the Lees and the Jeons, blame his murder on a rival mafia, and then be on your merry way back to your father’s home before you could be caught up in the chaos you’d have started. Sure it hadn’t been the most complex of plans you’ve come up with, you hardly had the time to map out a plan like that anyway, but sometimes simple was all one needed. 

Unfortunately, this had clearly not been one of those times. 

The problem was Jungkook. Your first husband had been an idiot and completely fooled by your featherbrained facade, so much so that even after you’d stolen the gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the chest he’d stared at you like you’d grown two heads. He just couldn’t comprehend the fact that a seemingly frivolous girl could have the courage to pull the trigger. Even after what he’d tried to do to you. After he almost-

You felt a shudder sweep across your spine.

But Jungkook was different. He had been assessing you the second you appeared before him during the wedding ceremony and, even though he had seemed to take in your carefully crafted performance, his gaze still refused to complete its assessment. At first you thought it was just lust -most men in the mafia couldn’t seem to be rid of that tenacious emotion- however, the lack of sexual initiation on his part despite being alone together in his room made you realise that perhaps Jungkook was a lot less like the mafia leaders you had grown up with than you realised. 

For one, he was scarily observant, and it was this skill that had ultimately led to the downfall of your assassination attempt. 

A huff escaped your lips at the thought, your hands continuing to expertly manoeuvre two pins inside the lock of the door you were currently crouched in front of. You had stayed sat on Jungkook’s bed the entire night, too wary to even attempt sleeping in the bedroom that was entirely unfamiliar to you. You half expected Jungkook to sneak into the room while you were out cold and enact a fitting revenge; you’d be unable to even blame him, you’d tried to kill the man after all. But Jungkook hadn’t left the mystery room all night, only emerging once the clock had struck 7 in the morning to wordlessly grab a black coat from the top of his dresser and disappear behind the front door with nothing but a single, hasty glance in your direction. 

Your brow had raised as you watched him get into his black car and drive off through the window, wondering how he could just leave you unattended in his home after the threat you had dropped near the end of your conversation earlier. Sure he probably had people monitoring his house at all times, but there was still a lot you could get done in front of people that wouldn’t suspect the girl with fluffy dresses and doe eyes to be much of a threat. 

Luckily for him though, you were beyond tired, and that meant that his absence was just a window of opportunity to get some actual rest without the constant fear of his retaliation keeping you awake. So following a long yawn, you had naturally felt yourself drift towards the bed, eyeing the soft duvet and fluffy pillows sleepily. But then, before you could lose yourself to the comfort of his mattress, your curious gaze had slowly wandered to the door Jungkook had disappeared behind last night and, next thing you knew, you were crouched in front of its gold lock and jabbing two pins into its keyhole. 

Your focus snapped back to the door before you as a familiar click sounded from the lock, causing it to swing open just a few centimetres. You pocketed the two pins, muttering a small “finally...” while your fingers wrapped around the gold handle. But before you could push it open, the muffled sound of an object dropping suddenly startled you. You whirled around, eyes immediately scanning the bedroom with intense precision as your hand grabbed the closest thing to you: a vase. Had someone managed to get into the room without you knowing? Perhaps you weren’t as observant as Jungkook seemed to be, but you’ve never been so absentminded that you could’ve been this caught off guard-

“Oh my god,” you gasped abruptly, a recollection surfacing as you quickly placed the vase back on the bedside table and scurried over to the closet. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten something so important… She must have been waiting in there the entire night.

You hastily threw open the closet door, gaze scanning the space until it finally fell on a small shadow peeking from behind the white and fawn island. The black shadow stood still for a moment, as if identifying the intruder, before the familiar cat sauntered out of the small space, black fur gleaming under the light. She looked up at you with an expression that eerily resembled a scowl. 

“Hi Persilla,” you cooed, crouching down to run a hand apologetically through the creature’s fur. Persilla evaded it at first, almost punishing you for forgetting her in the small, dark walk-in closet for the entire night, but eventually she gave in, purring as she brushed her soft tail against your still bare legs. While you could understand being stuck in a place like that for hours might’ve been slightly uncomfortable, she really had no right to act like that after how damn hard it had been to have her smuggled into Jungkook’s house without alerting anyone. It had been a huge risk, one that you might have a little trouble justifying, but you swear there was just something calming about her presence and you needed that desperately, especially in such a foreign place. 

“I failed to kill him,” you frowned, watching as Persilla’s feline eyes raised to watch you, “which means we’re going to have to stay here a little longer than I thought.”

You pulled yourself from the floor, shifting your focus back to Jungkook’s mystery room as you felt a pang of irritation hit you. You needed Jungkook dead, the delay in his death getting in the way of everything you’ve been working towards. Yet here you were now, stuck in the house you thought you wouldn’t be spending more than a night in. 

You cautiously walked over to the door you’d lock picked earlier, taking special care not to step on Persilla as she skittered between your feet, before grabbing the handle and pushing it open. The room turned out to be a seemingly simple office, which you found unsurprising for the most part. There was a wall full of books on one side, a glass cabinet of liquor wedged between its centre, while another wall was made up entirely of glass that showed off an enormous portion of Jungkook’s estate. It was the large desk to your right that really caught your attention, the sight of a map sprawled over its smooth surface particularly piquing your interest. 

You walked towards the glass cabinet first, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to pour yourself a drink, before you walked over to the desk and glanced at the map curiously. Persilla jumped onto the surface, circling the piece of paper like a predator surveying its prey. 

“It’s a map of the North,” you noted, taking a sip of the drink in your hand momentarily as you recognised the illustration instantly. You’d spend months studying a similar map back home before marrying Jungkook after all.

Handmade lines ran throughout the northern portion of the country, separating the territories run by different mafia leaders. You recognised Jungkook’s territory first, one of the bigger ones in the region, while Taehyung’s was right next to his, both of which were detailed with the locations of different landmarks: docks, hotels, residential areas, etc. You noticed that the other territories hadn’t been labelled like that, with the territory above Jungkook’s labelled “Park Territory” simply containing one or two locations and the territory labelled “Min Territory” containing no locations. There was a region above those two territories that hadn’t even been labelled at all, similar to your own map of the North back at home. 

“Aside from Taehyung’s territory, Jungkook doesn’t seem to know much about the northern region. I guess we’re similar in that aspect,” you muttered, speaking to Persilla as if you were giving her a report of the current situation. She turned towards you, tilting her head for a moment before she nudged the corner of the paper with her paw. You narrowed your gaze at the action, deciding to flip the paper. To your surprise there was another map, this time illustrating the southern portion of the country; the one where your father’s territory, the Lees, was situated and where you’d grown up your entire life. 

You smiled at Persilla, scratching under her chin while she purred in delight at the attention. What would you do without her?

It was surprising to see this map so much more detailed than the first, you thought, taking another sip of the whiskey in your hand. While Taehyung’s territory had been the only one littered with details in the northern region, all the territories in the South were full of details upon details. You could make out each one labelled with its respective mafia leader, a number of important locations, and even predictions about possible actions each leader might take in the future, all of which you could confirm to be highly accurate.

You flipped the map back to how it had been initially, gaze raising to move onto scanning the rest of the room while Persilla dropped to the floor quietly.

“How could Jungkook know so little about the northern region, yet so much about the South?” You thought out loud, tracking Persilla’s movements as she began pacing around the room. He was clearly great at collecting intel, the amount of information he had on the southern region was evidence of that, yet the North, his own region, was practically blank aside from Taehyung’s territory. Having grown up in the southern region yourself, you knew it better than the back of your hand. So if Jungkook had grown up in the North, how could he know so little about it? Was there some kind of history between the mafias in the North? 

Like your thoughts, you began absentmindedly drifting towards the enormous bookshelf, fingers brushing against the hardcover spines. 

If there really was history between the northern mafias, then knowing that history could be useful. Once you killed Jungkook and blamed his death on Park Jimin, there would be war between the Jeons and the Parks, and since the Kims and Mins are allied with the Jeons and Parks, respectively, it would be a full on war of the North. It’s that kind of instability you were aiming for, but knowing the more personal history of the northern mafias might help you create further tensions between the alliances, making things even more unstable. It would be perfect; the messier the better. That’s what your ultimate plan called for. That’s how you’ll finally-

You suddenly came to an abrupt stop, your fingers freezing as they came in contact with a particular book. It was a hardcover, just like the others, entirely black aside from the title, which had been written in bright gold, and the off-white pages. 

Persilla was back to skittering between your ankles once again, as if sensing the change in your thoughts. Her soft, black tail brushed against your bare legs as you delicately brought out the book with both your hands, wide eyes scanning it almost in disbelief. 

The Choice of a Nation.

It was the book that had changed your life. A fictitious book about a protagonist that lived in a world of human rights, justice, and structure. A world where everyone, more or less, was defined by their achievements and hard work rather than who they were born to. 

Reality was far from that. It was an enormous country cut up into territories based on which mafia leader ruled it. It was having to grow up watching innocent people be slaughtered because of petty disputes between said mafia leaders. It was watching people from mafia families be automatically rich and educated and powerful while people born to those under their rule automatically be poor, uneducated, and stepped on again and again and again. You were taught that this way of living was normal, that it was the only way of living in this world. 

Reality was something you’ve always found difficult to come to terms with because of this, because despite being taught the normalcy of such a way of living, it never seemed right to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of people’s entire lives being dependent on who they were born to, something that wasn’t in their control. If you were born a servant, you and the rest of your generations would stay servants forever. If you were born a mafia leader, you and your future generations would stay in power forever. Your sentiments made you feel alien when you realised no one else around you seemed to share the same thoughts, so much so that you started wondering that perhaps you really were being too unrealistic. 

But then came The Choice of a Nation, a book that introduced to you concepts like governments and elections and courts. It was all entirely fiction, every term having to be explained in great detail to be understandable, but all that mattered to you was that it was doable. Having different levels of governments, having a justice system that judged everyone fairly no matter who they were, and having the people decide who they want leading them. It was realistic. 

And you’re convinced that the mafia families knew it too, because despite its fictitious nature, the book was immediately banned the second it was published, while its author had been killed just as quickly. You yourself had only gotten your hands on the book out of sheer dumb luck. Distantly you wondered how and why Jungkook had this copy. 

After that you had become dead set on making the book’s world a reality. But in order for things to go as you’ve planned, you need things to be unstable, because unstable things are weak. The South has always been like that, with mafia leaders constantly at each other’s throats. You doubt any of them even know what the word ‘alliance’ even means. It was perfect for you. 

The North, on the other hand, was a bit different. There were two alliances and the most northern region was a complete mystery to you. At first, you were stumped with how you were going to weaken the region, but then the opportunity had presented itself when your father had announced your hasty marriage to Jungkook. And once again, it was perfect. 

All you needed was Jungkook to be dead, and the rest would fall in place just like you’d planned. 

A meowing noise suddenly sounded from your feet, causing you to look down and find Persilla standing on her hind legs, her front paws brushing against your bare shins repeatedly. Her impatience was clear as day, making you smile. 

“You’re right, that’s enough snooping for today I think,” you nodded, running a hand over her small head while the other clutched the book firmly, “you deserve some expensive salmon for being such a good girl.”

As if she understood your words, Persilla dropped to the floor and purred, rubbing her furry body against your ankle. You gave the room one last look, as if expecting to find something else worth surveying, but ultimately decided you were way too tired from your all-nighter to continue on. 

-

-

-

At this point in his life, Jungkook could say with certainty that he was a pretty patient man. He wasn’t born with the trait, if anything impatience seemed to have been stitched well into his personality the second he’d entered this world. But, over time, he’d learned to get rid of the pesky trait and replace it with the much more effective and fruitful quality that was patience. 

Yet, not even all those years of cultivating the characteristic could have prepared him for how late Kim Taehyung was. 

Jungkook had been standing at the West docks, hands in the pockets of his long, black coat, since 8:00 AM in the morning, waiting almost 4 hours for his friend with furrowed brows and an unimpressed frown. He’d left the house as early as appropriately possible, partly because of your presence and partly because of the urgency in addressing the dock’s issue. Now it was almost noon and Taehyung, who’d promised to be here by 9:00 AM was still nowhere in sight. 

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he felt the ocean air breeze through the nearly black strands of his hair. Taehyung being late had given him more time to think about earlier this morning, when he’d shot you a glance before he was out the front door. You looked like you hadn’t slept a wink, which Jungkook could relate to, but he supposed that was for the best. You’d threatened to kill him at the end of your conversation last night, so having you sleep deprived would probably work in his favour. 

Not that you could really do anything anyway. Jungkook had made sure to set guards in every entrance to the kitchen and stripped the house of every weapon that wasn’t locked in a hefty safe. There was no way you could get your hands on any kind of gun or knife, so he was pretty confident that you couldn’t be a threat to him at the moment. Though, the memory of your fiery eyes from last night had seemed so determined…

“What are you smirking about?” Taehyung asked as he strolled along the boardwalk, making his way towards the younger man. 

Jungkook’s scowl instantly returned, causing Taehyung to raise his hands in surrender, “it took Chaewon and I a whole hour to get Suho to bed, who’s also sick by the way. Cut me some slack, man.”

“I told you guys to stay over at my place and not some hotel,” Jungkook chastised, feeling bad for the little guy. He made a note to send some sweets to their hotel room when he got back, “the maid could have helped you guys out.”

“The newlyweds deserve to have the house to themselves,” Taehyung waved him off before he smirked, “besides, I didn’t know how freaky you guys were going to get and I couldn’t risk Suho hearing, he’s way too young for that stuff.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, motioning for Taehyung to start following him. They started walking along the boardwalk, Jungkook’s hands still shoved into his coat’s pockets while Taehyung’s were covered in black leather gloves. 

“Okay,” Taehyung said, “I’m just going to ask one question, and then we’ll drop it and you can explain this whole dock’s situation to me.”

That earned him a raised brow, but the lack of the younger’s refusal spurred him on. 

“What do you think of her?”

Jungkook didn’t answer for a moment, mulling over his reply before he finally answered. 

“She’s fine.”

He didn’t know why he wasn’t telling Taehyung the truth about you, about how your entire ditzy personality was a front and about how hellbent you were on killing him to get a divorce. Maybe it was because he didn’t really see the need to. Jungkook had concluded that you were only trying to kill him because you wanted a divorce, allowing you to go back to whichever boyfriend was waiting for you back in the south. 

“Your words are saying she’s fine, but your face is saying you’re mad,” Taehyung noted with a brow raised. But Jungkook waved him off, ready to end this conversation and get onto more important business. 

“Anyways, as you know, the Parks decided to attack the West docks last week,” Jungkook began, pointing towards his left to show Taehyung the damage sustained. One of the enormous warehouses, which collectively formed a neat line leading farther than his eye could decipher, had caved into itself, its walls charred almost entirely. The two warehouses by its side seemed more salvageable, with only a wall or two affected by the evident fire that had taken place. Construction workers could already be seen surrounding the area, hard at work to replace the damaged structures. 

Taehyung nodded as he took in the scene, “an attack at the docks… they’re checking to see how strong the Jeons are at the moment.”

“They’re doing it because they want to know if they can take over our territory.”

That was the standard protocol after all. When a mafia attacks another mafia’s docks, it’s usually because they want to test how weak or strong they are and whether they can take them over or not. The fact that the Parks pulled something like this right after their alliance with the Mins was no coincidence to Jungkook. 

But to his surprise, Taehyung paused, as if mulling over Jungkook’s words. He watched Taehyung’s gaze drift over to the vast sea on their right, a contemplative look shadowing over his eyes before they flickered back to Jungkook. 

“Is that really what you think Jimin is doing?” 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowned, “this is the textbook procedure for taking over another territory.”

When Taehyung didn’t answer him, Jungkook placed a hand in front of his chest, blocking his path so the two could stand facing each other as they spoke.

“I’m just saying,” Taehyung finally explained, “it seems a bit out of character for him. Wasn’t he always the one that was going on about how dumb it is to want to take over other territories instead of cultivating your own?”

Jungkook scoffed, “yeah, in university, which was years ago. Jimin has changed since then.”

Taehyung’s lips formed a grim line at the animosity in his voice. 

“Look, I know you both-”

“No,” Jungkook cut him off quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going, “this isn’t the hatred from what happened years ago talking. Jimin has changed, and I have the evidence to prove it.”

Jungkook turned around to resume his earlier path, Taehyung walking slowly behind him as they passed by the workers sighing in relief at the cool breeze of the ocean and large ships anchored alongside the piers. In a matter of minutes, Jungkook had led him to the entrance of an enormous warehouse. Taehyung’s brows furrowed when Jungkook turned around to face him, a grim expression washing over his strong features. 

“When the Parks attacked the docks last week, I managed to prevent them from seizing control of it by bringing out some old blackmail. Obviously I didn’t think it would hold them off for long if their plan really is to take over my territory, but I didn’t expect them to retaliate so soon,” Jungkook explained, “nor did I expect them to retaliate in this way.”

He turned back to face the warehouse's door, hand wrapping around its handle, “the night before my wedding, I was called to the docks because some of the worker’s had found something in this warehouse.”

Then he turned the handle and pushed the door wide open, revealing its inside.

“This is what I found.”

It was awful. 

The entire warehouse was full of dead bodies, some thrown haphazardly on the ground while others were thrown over the equipment spanning the room. Taehyung could make out bodies of men, women, and even some children -he couldn’t look at them for too long without thinking of his own son- all of which had clearly been killed in varying ways. Some looked like they had been burned, while others looked like they’d been thrown into a blender. Being in the mafia, Taehyung was no stranger to blood and gore, but this… this was too much, even for him. 

But then his gaze caught onto a wall in the far corner of the warehouse, particularly the sight of dried blood smeared against the grey metal. He took in each stroke of red, processing each letter it had been made to resemble until he could read what had been written. 

“‘We’re coming,’” Jungkook read out loud, keeping his stoic gaze fixed on Taehyung. 

He shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, “I knew Yoongi was brutal, but I never could have expected he’d be capable of… this.”

Jungkook’s gaze drifted around the room, grimacing at the scene before him. 

“Jimin and Yoongi clearly aren’t who they used to be,” he concluded, looking towards Taehyung for confirmation. Thankfully, Taehyung nodded this time, gaze becoming hard as he agreed without protest. 

“Well, they’ve warned us that they’re coming,” he said, gesturing towards the bloody message, “what are we going to do about it?”

Jungkook motioned for Taehyung to follow him back outside, where the air didn’t smell like death and the sights didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with one of the unaffiliated gangs located in the West in about an hour. As long as we pay them well, they’ll do just about anything for us. Having extra manpower should tip the odds in our favour. Not to mention, I’ll make good use of the Lees.”

Taehyung nodded as he watched Jungkook close the door of the warehouse, “are you going to contact Jimin first?”

“No,” he shook his head, beginning to walk back to the parking lot alongside Taehyung, “I’ve had a headcount done and it doesn’t seem like any of the people in the warehouse were one of ours. I think the Parks were just trying to send a message to scare us.”

“I’ll get a headcount done for my people too just in case,” Taehyung said, to which Jungkook agreed. 

Once they had made it back to the parking lot, Taehyung turned to face him.

“I was thinking of heading back to my territory tonight, since I have a few things I need to take care of,” he explained, opening the door of his bright orange car before leaning against it casually, “but Chaewon wanted to have a late lunch or dinner with the bride and groom before we left. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jungkook’s interest piqued as a thought suddenly came to mind. This would be a good opportunity to assess how you and him were going to act like a couple in front of others. If the two of you failed, it would be fine since it was just Taehyung and Chaewon, two people that he trusted with his life. Then you and him could learn from the experience and hopefully get it together before having to make any public appearances. 

“Does 6 work?” He asked, to which Taehyung nodded. 

The two then exchanged quick goodbyes, Taehyung explaining that he should probably get back as soon as possible to get things in order, before Jungkook watched as he got into his car and drove off, standing for a few minutes until someone came to stand behind him. 

“Sir?”

He turned to find a man bowing in his direction, waiting for permission to speak. Jungkook motioned for him to go on, already getting an idea of what this was about. 

“Our informant within the Lees just contacted us,” he explained, “he said that Lee Y/N’s father believes his daughter to be a frivolous and naive girl, her sole purpose being to marry someone that will benefit the Lees.”

Jungkook nodded at the news. So you had been telling the truth when you said that you’d fooled everyone, including your father, with your performance… Distantly he wondered why you would decide to resort to such an act. 

“Have there been any talks of betraying this alliance?” Jungkook asked, to which the man shook his head. 

“The informant said there were none. Lee Y/N’s father seems dependent on this alliance to protect himself from neighbouring mafias. The South is quite unsettled in that aspect.”

“I see, and have there been any talks of Y/N having some sort of significant other in the Lee territory?”

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, “the informant said that there weren’t really any talks of that… but he did mention that before your marriage, when Lee Y/N was still living in the Lee territory, he’d accidentally overheard a hushed phone conversation she’d had in her bedroom. He couldn’t make out what they had been talking about, but he was able to confirm that the voice on the other line was male. The informant hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but since you’re asking now, he decided it would be safer to let you know just in case.”

It could have been anyone, hell, you could have been talking to a relative or something, but Jungkook’s mind went straight to his initial theory. It made sense, especially considering you wanted a divorce so badly. He couldn’t really think of any other reason besides your heart already belonging to someone else… even though you were his wife. 

“Sir? Was there anything else?” The man asked, causing Jungkook to reel in his scowl.

“Contact Lee Y/N’s father and schedule a meeting with him as soon as he can,” Jungkook said, “that’s all, thank you.”

The man bowed, instantly scurrying away from sight to get to the assigned task, while Jungkook turned to start making his way to his car. 

For some reason, his mood had suddenly soured. 

-

-

-

“So we finally get to meet the famous Y/N.”

You smiled shyly as you walked into the grand dining hall, automatically taking in the spiralling chandelier, marble floor, and dark brown dining table filled with formal decoration pieces. Only after this assessment did you let your gaze fall on the two sitting on the dining chairs; the first one you already knew to be Taehyung, who was dressed in a rich grey suit, while the other was a woman -you automatically assumed she was Taehyung’s wife considering the maid had told you you’d be dining with the two today. 

She had been the one that had spoken, but the first thing you noticed when your eyes landed on her was that she was gorgeous. Her straight, long black hair and hazel eyes sparkled under the glittering light of the chandelier overhead, while her dark maroon dress fit elegantly into the rich ambience of the room.

As she stood from her seat, you felt yourself automatically tense. Back in the South, the wives of mafia leaders were always vicious and constantly at each other's throats, a reflection of their husbands’ animosity towards each other. Now that you were married, you supposed you’d have to be subjected to the same, but the only difference was that your ditzy facade would bar you from being able to fight back. Whatever Taehyung’s wife threw at you, you’d have to take it. 

But after she made her way towards you, her actions as smooth as silk, you were surprised when she pulled you in for a quick and formal embrace. 

“The wedding was absolutely beautiful,” she praised, even the flow of her voice silk-like, “and of course your dress, it was exquisite! You must tell me the designer you went with- or perhaps it was all just your figure. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

For a moment all you could do was stare at her; this woman… she was being so… nice. Too nice, if you were being honest. It was a little unnerving, instantly making you sceptical of her intentions. Perhaps the wives of northern mafia leaders were more cunning in the way they sniped at each other? They greeted each other politely during occasions, but behind the scenes they would attack each other to obtain what they wanted? But then again, what could anyone possibly want from you? To them you were just some featherbrained girl that dressed like a fancy pastel tablecloth. 

You’d decided to still dress the part this evening, with a fluffy light pink dress that fell right at your knees and a matching silk ribbon tied into a bow pulling up half your hair, even if you didn’t know for sure how much Jungkook would have revealed to Taehyung. You had the feeling that Jungkook wouldn’t tell him anything, since it would work in his favour having the least amount of people knowing, but you’ve also heard how close the two men were so it wouldn’t entirely surprise you if he had.

Taehyung certainly was staring at you like he knew your secret. Unlike his wife, he stayed seated at the dining table, offering you a polite greeting from there instead, but you could recognise the calculating nature of his gaze as clear as day. He was assessing your every movement as you interacted with his wife, which made you straighten up. It wouldn’t be the biggest deal if he did know, because who would believe him if he went around spreading that kind of news, but if he didn’t, then you would have to up the quality of your act. 

“Has Jungkook told you anything about us?” Taehyung’s wife asked as she took the seat next to her husband once again, while you decided to take the seat across from her, “ah- who am I kidding? You’ve only been here a night. I’m Chaewon and this is Taehyung, he’s the leader of the Kims.”

You nodded, making sure to keep your voice light and airy, “you’re pretty.”

She tried to hide it well, but the comment had Chaewon’s eyes flickering to her husband for a moment. It was better that you started dropping a dumb comment here and there to really seal the ‘dumb as rocks’ trait. 

Chaewon quickly recovered from the surprise, letting out a breathy chuckle, “you’re sweet, but you’re so pretty yourself. I love the light sparkles you’ve added to your lids, it’s such a subtle but dainty thing.”

Her tone was so formal that you couldn’t tell if she was passively mocking you or not. You would’ve preferred she just pull a gun on you or something; it would be way less confusing than sitting here and trying to read between the lines of her words. Confrontational individuals were dangerous, but individuals who planned their strikes in the shadows were the real threats. You’d know that best.

At that moment, before you could reply with an even dumber comment, the sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention. You turned just to catch Jungkook closing the door behind him, his hair slightly damp, likely from a shower, and dressed in a simple black collar shirt tucked into matching black dress pants. He paused at the doorway, scanning the room for a moment until his eyes dropped on you.

Your brows furrowed when he held your gaze for a second longer than normal, a hidden question in your expression. He looked almost thoughtful, an idea clearly waltzing through his mind, before he finally started making his way towards the three of you. 

You thought that was the end of the odd moment, and that Jungkook would finally initiate a conversation with the other two sitting at the table as he pulled out the chair next to you. But just as he was about to settle into the soft cushion, he stalled for a second, turned to face you…

And then placed a quick peck on your cheek.

You froze, shock making your limbs rigid as you used every bit of your self control to stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the action. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Jungkook apologised as he casually plopped down into his seat, gaze fixing on the couple before you. 

But Chaewon smiled, a graceful hand going to her chest. 

“Aww look at how flustered she looks, aren’t they just adorable, Taehyung?” She said with a smile. Your hands instantly went to your cheeks, annoyed to find them burning underneath your palms. 

Before you could think much of it though, the servers started spilling into the room to place steaming plates of food before you all. This evening’s menu seemed to be seafood themed, with plates of crab, lobster, and shrimp filling the initially empty surface of the dark dining table. It made sense to you, considering almost half of Jungkook’s territory bordered the ocean. 

Once the plates had been placed, a server stepped beside you, bringing out a bottle of red wine to pour into the empty glass beside your plate. But you brought up a hand to stop him. 

“Not a fan of wine, Y/N?” Chaewon asked as she noticed the gesture, and once again the ambiguity in her formal tone made it hard to tell whether she was mocking you or not. 

You shook her head in response, “I don’t like alcohol, it tastes gross.”

Yes, ditzy Y/N didn’t like alcohol, but the real Y/N was seriously craving that expensive whiskey you knew Jungkook had stashed in his office at this very moment. He clearly had good taste, it was a shame you’d had to drop a gram of lethal toxin into the bottle before you’d left the room and passed out on Jungkook’s bed for nearly two hours. You scowled inwardly as you remembered how much more you could have slept had it not been for the maid who had woken you up to give you a tour of the house and then helped you get ready for the early dinner you and Jungkook were supposed to have with Taehyung and Chaewon. 

“I apologise ma’am, is there anything else I can interest you in instead?” The server asked, moving the bottle of wine away from your glass. You mused over your answer for a moment, before you smiled up at him.

“I’d like some banana milk, please.”

Once again, Chaewon subtly threw an unreadable look towards Taehyung, but this time she wasn’t alone as Taehyung and Jungkook each threw their own odd looks in your direction at the wildly childish choice. Back when you first started acting naive your reaction would have consisted of an intense feeling of embarrassment washing over you, but now the others’ reactions only seemed to amuse you. Although, you were inwardly groaning at how gross having seafood alongside milk was going to be. But the show had to go on, didn’t it?

Taehyung cleared his throat when the server returned with a wine glass filled with banana milk -you had to pinch your arm to stop yourself from laughing at that- before he turned to face Jungkook, eager to break the awkward silence that had ensued. 

“I hope you both enjoyed your wedding present, Chaewon spent so long on making that gift basket I thought it was going to be for your one year anniversary,” he joked, causing Chaewon to playfully slap his shoulder. 

“I just wanted it to be nice,” she defended instantly, “we’ve known Jungkook for years, seeing him get married makes me feel like a proud older sister.”

It was such a contrasting sight seeing two mafia families be so fond and at ease with each other when you’d grown up seeing the southern mafia families at each other’s throats constantly. Chaewon seemed so comfortable here, and even though Taehyung was mostly quiet -you were starting to think he was trying to decipher the relationship between you and Jungkook with the way he kept staring back and forth between you two- even he didn’t seem to be guarded despite being in another mafia leader’s territory. 

“We enjoyed the basket, thank you,” Jungkook said, bringing your focus back to the conversation. You watched him lean back in his seat as his gaze drifted to you, the ghost of an amused look haunting his features, “the champagne particularly was quite the ice breaker.”

You’d tried to kill him using that bottle and yet here he was practically mocking you about it not even 24 hours later. You threw him a sweet smile, as if you were reliving a fond memory, hoping he would pick up on the hidden glare in your gaze. But that only made his grin widen. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Chaewon clapped, not seeming to pick up on the tension between you both, “I wasn’t aware of your distaste for alcohol though, Y/N. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind in the future.”

You faced her with what you hoped was a grateful smile, “it’s okay, I really liked the scented candles.”

It had actually been Persilla that had been obsessed with them, the vanilla scented one seeming to be her favourite. 

The dining room was mostly quiet following that, the four of you finishing up your food in a comfortable silence. Inwardly you were gagging at the combination of shrimp and banana milk you’d decided to torment yourself with. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, every few minutes or so you’d catch Jungkook trying to suppress a sly grin, the man being the only one in the room, to your knowledge at least, who knew the reality of your predicament. You scowled, annoyed by his satisfaction until an idea came to mind. 

Well, you could always hit two birds with one stone. 

You reached over your plate to grab your glass of banana milk, bringing it towards yourself to give the impression that you were going to drink from it. But at the last moment, you let the bottom of the glass catch on your plate, causing the entire thing to tip from your fingers. It clattered onto the table, splashing all over Jungkook’s plate and seated form, making him flinch. 

You instantly gasped dramatically, hands going to cover your mouth and eyes widening as you squeaked, “I’m so sorry!”

With Taehyung and Chaewon’s focus shifting to the spill on the table, the roll of Jungkook’s eyes went unnoticed by them. 

“It’s okay, it was only an accident,” he forced out, pushing his chair away from the table’s edge and widening his thighs to evade the rest of the milk. You had to hide your smile behind your hands as you watched the no doubt cold milk seep into his pants. 

Taehyung picked up the box of napkins, which had been near his plate, and held it out to the younger man, causing Jungkook to stretch over the table to receive it. But just as Jungkook grabbed the box, you noticed Taehyung’s brows suddenly furrow, his eyes seeming to stay fixed at a particular spot on Jungkook’s neck. 

You followed his gaze curiously. The first few buttons of Jungkook’s black shirt had been undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone and chest, but as Jungkook stretched you noticed the fabric shift to expose more of the area, which you realised was covered in red patches that looked a lot like… hickies. You and Taehyung weren’t the only ones that caught this as you noticed Chaewon smirk, her gaze travelling between you both. 

Jungkook himself was the last to notice the stares as he pressed some tissues against the wet material of his pants, most of which was prominent on his lap. Yet when he did notice them, even you knew that Taehyung and Chaewon’s questioning looks wouldn’t allow for him to get out of this without an explanation. 

You expected him to wave them off with a lame excuse anyway, like it was a rash or he’d burned himself somehow. You could call Jungkook many things, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that enjoyed making suggestive jokes or conversation. Nor did he seem like the kind of guy to divulge in his sexual escapades. 

But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead he paused, similar to earlier when he had entered the room, and seemed to think something over. Then his gaze dropped on you, and the mischief in his eyes gave you the odd feeling that you should prepare yourself for what he was about to say. 

You should have listened to that feeling. 

Jungkook broke his eye contact with you, his lips twitching into what suspiciously seemed like a smirk, before he turned to face Taehyung and Chaewon. 

“I guess Y/N got a bit carried away earlier.”

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped open as Chaewon gasped, her hands instantly going to her chest as if she couldn’t believe it. From your peripheral vision you could make out Taehyung slumping against the back of his chair, as if he had finally given up on trying to figure the two of you out. 

“Y/N! I would have never guessed you were the freaky type,” Chaewon laughed, her gaze seeming to take you in a different light. Your hands curled into fists under the table. 

Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing by dropping a comment like that, and you were far from stupid enough not to see it. By insinuating that there was a more suggestive side of you, he was slowly starting to break down your performance of an innocent girl capable of doing no wrong in the eyes of others. 

You’d promised to kill him, and now he’d seemingly decided he wanted to kill the image you’d spent years cultivating. 

You took a deep breath to calm yourself as Jungkook’s hand hooked under your chair to drag it towards him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder when he was close enough. Even in the midst of your subdued anger you noticed just how close the sharp cut of his jawline was in this position, and not to mention the tiny mole under his bottom lip that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“It’s okay, princess,” he said, sounding sweet but you knew it was meant to be mocking, “you don’t have to be shy in front of them.”

You were going to kill him. You were going to shoot him so many times that by the time you were done with him he was going to look like a giant block of swiss cheese-

“Well, we should probably get going,” Taehyung said suddenly, his eyes focused on reading something on his phone before pocketing the device, “I think Suho is starting to get fussy again, plus we should get going if we want to get back home before it gets too dark.”

Taehyung offered a hand to Chaewon to help her get up from her seat, a classy smile gracing her lips as her gaze met yours, “that’s our son by the way. You must meet him the next time we meet.”

“I would love to. I love children,” you said with a tight smile as you and Jungkook got up from your seats, exchanging polite pleasantries all the way to the front door.

“You know, that’s not very surprising to me,” Chaewon commented while Taehyung looped an arm around hers. You waved to each other with smiles, watching him guide her into an orange car before driving around the fountain and disappearing through the tall gates. 

The second the front door closed your smile dropped, replaced by an annoyed scowl that you threw in Jungkook’s direction. He regarded you as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know about the North, but in the South we have this thing called personal space. You should try it out some time,” you said, to which Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen a married couple have personal space? Really Y/N, must I explain the birds and the bees to you?

You huffed as he walked past you, climbing up the stairs casually while you started following behind him. 

“Why does it even matter if people know how dysfunctional this marriage is? We’re married, how is that not enough?”

It really did not make sense to you why he was so dead set on selling this image of a perfect marriage to others. Back in the South, there was not one marriage a mafia leader was a part of where it wasn’t in complete shambles, and that was very public knowledge to everyone in, and even outside of, the territory. Yet, that didn’t seem to affect the level of control or power the southern mafia leaders had. So why was Jungkook making it out to be such a big deal?

But the question stopped him in his tracks, causing him to turn around on the stairs to give you an incredulous look, as if what you had asked was almost alien. 

“I don’t know how it works in the South, but in the North it very much matters,” he said slowly, gaze fixed on yours, “we must present ourselves as perfect in every aspect of our lives, or there are a number of enemies that would have no problem taking advantage of even the most miniscule flaw.”

You scoffed, “that’s dumb.”

Jungkook turned away from you, not bothering to comment on the mindless remark, as he continued to resume his path up the stairs. When he finally made it to the top and walked up to his bedroom’s door, he pushed it open and walked inside. 

Your breath instantly stalled as you followed behind him, gaze darting around the room quickly to see if Persilla was anywhere in his sights. You knew you didn’t need to worry, Persilla was a master of remaining unseen, she’d managed to hide from everyone in the house when you’d been living in the South with your father after all. You’d even opened the door to the balcony slightly, allowing her to roam outside freely if she wanted to, so she might not have even been in the room anyway. You exhaled slowly, successful in convincing yourself that the little black cat you’d grown to care for and love would be fine. 

Jungkook’s breath, on the other hand, came out as a low huff when he noticed the balcony door ajar. He walked over to it quickly, closing it before giving you a chastising look. One you ignored obviously. 

Instead you casually turned away from him to enter into the bathroom, grabbing a few makeup wipes before returning back into the bedroom and plopping yourself down on the fluffy duvet of the bed. You began wiping off the various light sparkles and pinks that softened your face, as if you were taking off a doll-like mask. 

“You’re an annoying little thing, aren’t you?” He commented as he watched your nonchalant demeanour. 

Then it was your turn to watch him disappear into his closet for a moment, the muffled sounds of clothes moving around reaching your ears, before he emerged in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black short sleeve t-shirt. 

But you particularly noticed his right arm, which was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos ending just above his wrist. The ink travelled over the smooth ridges of his skin, taut from the firm muscles underneath. Your gaze immediately dropped to the small trash can next to the bedside table, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, as you focused on throwing the used wipes into the bin. 

You then leaned back on the mattress, arms holding you upright, trying to get your focus back on track, “I like how forgetting to close the balcony door annoys you and not the fact that I want you dead.”

That made Jungkook smile, amusement clear in his eyes, “I’m still standing here though, aren’t I?”

Your reply was quick.

“It won’t be for long.”

“Right,” Jungkook nodded, his words laced into a patronising chuckle, “but while you’re working on that, I need you to actually act like my wife. We’re lucky Taehyung and Chaewon didn’t notice anything, the public won’t be so inattentive.”

You tilted your head, “yes, I wonder what the public would have said about the hickies on your neck.”

Jungkook mirrored your movements, the edges of his lips twitching.

“I think they would be glad to be under the impression that we’re hard at work trying to produce an heir.”

“That’s only if your side piece stays quiet.” 

“Careful, Y/N,” Jungkook tutted, “you sound almost jealous.”

“Jealous?” You repeated incredulously, sitting up straighter with an evidently offended expression, “your girl is sleeping with a dead man walking. Is that something to be jealous of?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, continuing to direct an amused gaze in your direction, before he turned away, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, “relax, princess, there’s no other girl. I just went hunting earlier and got a few mosquito bites. Nothing more.”

“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” you shrugged before falling back onto the mattress, the softness of the duvet making your limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. The position caused your dress to ride up to the middle of your thighs, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. He looked away when he realised he was staring, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the bright moon outside the window. 

“We may be as far from in love with each other as the moon is to the earth, but I still won’t risk messing around with others outside this relationship,” he said. There was a pause after his words, as if he were expecting you to say something, but you let the silence ensue. There really was nothing you wanted to add anyway. 

A noise made you lift your head, allowing you to see Jungkook unlocking the door to his office before he turned his head to you, “just get used to whatever happened at dinner today. There will be much more where that came from in the future.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the room while locking the door behind him. Jungkook immediately walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to place them on the desk.

The loud clink of the glass against the wood of the desk made Jungkook frown, annoyed by his getting annoyed at your lack of reply. Yet, it was evident that he was indeed irritated by it. Of course you wouldn’t agree not to mess around with others, you had your ‘boyfriend’ waiting for you back in the South. 

He certainly wasn’t messing around with anyone. After meeting Taehyung at the docks, Jungkook had gone to meet with the leader of an independent gang in the West, who, to his distaste, was a huge fan of hunting. So naturally they’d met in a forest to hunt for a few hours, before Jungkook had convinced the man to be at his disposal. Jungkook has always been prone to mosquito bites, but that day the mosquitos seemed to have taken a particular liking to his neck and arms, despite what Taehyung and Chaewon might have thought. 

It didn’t matter to him, though, that you had a boyfriend. Yes, it really didn’t. He was just annoyed because if someone found out about him, then Jungkook’s reputation would take a hit. The news would spread like a wildfire, and the outcome would be far from good. 

He didn’t even know how well you could hide a secret like that. What if you slipped up somewhere? What if the dude did? It would be a disaster. 

Jungkook placed his glass down, the whiskey momentarily forgotten as he grabbed his phone and leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in thought. This was for the good of his leadership, not anything personal. Yes, that’s right. 

Mind made, Jungkook quickly dialled a familiar number, waiting barely a single ring before a male voice sounded from the device. 

“Hello sir, was there something I could help you with?”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around the glass on his desk, “tell the informant I want him to investigate Lee Y/N’s room at the Lee mansion. I want to find out everything we can about the man Y/N was talking on the phone with before our marriage, and if there’s anything else unusual I want to be informed of it as well.”

“Yes, of course sir,” the voice said immediately, “I’ll let him know as soon as possible. Is that all?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, thinking over the question. This had been an impromptu call after all.

Stuck in his thoughts, he brought the glass into his hand, swirling the liquid in it for a second before taking a modest sip.

His reflexes acted before his mind did; the second he registered the hint of a metallic taste he lurched forward, spitting the liquid back into the glass in a matter of a second. Even with that little exposure he could start to feel his tongue burn slightly, causing him to instantly open the drawer of his desk and grab a water bottle. The water soothed his mouth as he quickly swished it between his teeth before spitting it out and repeating the process a few times.

“Sir? Sir?! Is everything okay?” The voice rang from his phone, Jungkook almost forgetting about him for a second. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, it was nothing. That will be all, thank you.”

He ended the call, grimacing in discomfort at the feel of his slightly sensitive tongue against the roof of his mouth. So you’d managed to find a way to sneak into his office. He shouldn’t have been very surprised by that, you seemed to have a talent for getting into places where you shouldn’t. 

Jungkook sighed as he eyed his liquor cabinet, realising that he’d have to throw it all. But as his gaze raised, it seemed to catch an empty slot in his bookshelf. Curiously he walked over to it, hand hovering over the hollow space between a book about war tactics and a book about his family’s history. 

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You’d obviously taken one of his books, but whether it was for casual reading or for something more he couldn’t tell. 

He ignored the pang of pain that rippled throughout his mouth as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, his gaze falling back to his desk. With Jimin’s attacks, he had a lot of work he was going to have to do, and now seemed like the perfect time to get that done considering he was not going to go back into his bedroom, which you had taken over. 

He sighed. 

It was going to be a long night. 

-

-

-

You remained seated on the bed as you watched Jungkook lock the door behind him, leaving you alone in his bedroom once again. You hoped he enjoyed the nice present you’d dropped into his liquor bottles this morning, because you were just about ready to be shipped off back to the Lee mansion and watch your plan unfold in the perfect way you’d outlined it to. 

The sound of something tapping against glass caught your attention, causing you to turn towards the balcony. It was hard to spot her in the dead of night, her black fur blending into the dark so well that her feline eyes were the only thing about her you could really make out. But even then, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Persilla trying to get your attention from outside of the balcony door. 

You stood, sending a wary glance in the direction of Jungkook’s office’s door, before slowly pushing yourself off the mattress and making your way towards the glass. You paused in front of it for a moment, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes. Your hands blindly felt in front of you, moving erratically in the air for a moment before you could feel the handle between your fingers. You pulled on it, hearing the sound of the door opening as well as the feel of the fresh airy breeze on your face.

The second you felt Persilla’s small body walking between your feet, you pushed the door close, sighing in relief when you opened your eyes. 

You crouched down to pet Persilla’s head, scratching against her chin when she purred delightfully. It was only when she moved her head upwards, showcasing her collar, when you paused, your gaze catching onto something white wedged between the sleek leather and her furry neck. 

“Do you have something for me, Persilla?” You asked, fingers pinching the thing, which you realised was a folded note, and bringing it out of its confines. You unfolded it, eyes widening after scanning it and recognising the familiar strokes of black pen on its surface.

It’s done.

We should meet soon.

~ H

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Also Jungkook when he finds out about Persilla: 🧍‍♂️