#like let him be the naive police officer

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[ghettogirly]

headcanons for armando where his gf is like the total opposite of him? super bubbly, outgoing, friendly 😭 like grumpy x sunshine

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𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬! <𝟑

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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

-> theme: grumpy x sunshine w/ drabble

-> warnings: slight mention of childhood issues?

-> authors note: woiiiii, this is a good request! hope you enjoy!!

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-> you both have COMPLETELY different personalities.

-> armando is not a man of many words, only speaking when it’s necessary, preferring silence.

-> he never openly interacted with people unless he needed to.

-> so when people found out that your boyfriend was THE Armando Aretas, it was fair to say that they were confused.

-> i think you both were even confused with how this happened because how do two completely opposite people, cross paths?

-> you knew of his father because he is THE mike lowery, a respectable police officer in the force.

-> however, you was just a silly assistant, so when you delivered coffee to the team during their group meeting, you caught his eye.

-> you had this doll look to you, like you’re too precious to touch. which was definitely the opposite of his look.

-> and ever since then, he always looked out for you.

-> whether it was helping you do your errands around the office or dropping you home once he saw you walking down the street one day.

-> so when people found out about your dynamic with each other, they were SHOCKED.

-> even mike had a “what the fuck” type look on his face.

-> you was so friendly, always talking to people with big balls of energy. always being the one who saw the good in people, sometimes a bit naive but a positive person nevertheless.

-> he was the grump and you was the ray of sunshine.

-> it never would’ve been foreseeable for Armando to even have the patience to deal with someone like you, but, he did.

-> people judged you even for talking, let alone, dating the man.

-> everyone saw him as the mean, cold hearted, ruthless killer. but you was different, you saw him completely different.

-> to you, he was your sweetheart.

-> he hated that nickname. he never understood why she used it. thinking it was childish.

-> until one day, armando and you was lying down im their shared bed, your hands running through his hair as he hummed in pleasure.

-> “¿Por qué siempre me llamas cariño?”

-> The girl paused for a moment, before parting her lips and replying, “you’ve been through so much and besides all of that you still have a soft spot for people, wanting that little boy inside to be loved and have a stable family.”

-> that stuck with him.

-> she became the light in that dark world he was once in, always counting on her to bring him up whenever he felt himself going back down that dark path.

-> “soy yo y tú contra el mundo, mi amor.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

“soy yo y tú contra el mundo, mi amor.”: It’s me and you against the world, my love.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@shurisgf @milliumizoomi @deadpool15 @loakswifesworld @wizewhispers @5tarlan7 @thedarkworldofhananerea @sarcasticbitchsblog @amplifiedmoan

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer - part ii

part i | series masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: what? you really thought officer miller was done with you? 🙄 don't be so naive. he's going to make good use of that cell he's thrown you in.

a/n: am i a rabid dog who needs to be put down? yes i am. you'll find me taking a walk and touching some grass because oh boy 🥵 please enjoy part ii to police officer!joel. as always, all interactions are welcome! i'd love some feedback if you feel like sharing. yea, that's everything i gotta say, i'll go hide under a rock now. thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. a hella lot of unhealthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). object insertion (oopsie 🥴). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). strong sub/dom vibes. mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. reader talks to boyfriend while being drilled. unprotected piv. creampie. overall, rough, filthy sex. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~7.7k (someone put me down, seriously).

tagging some people who seemed interested in part 2 (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@cestlavieinrenaissance @ijustlovemensm @fartcloudfartcloud

Joel looked through the rearview mirror. You were sat on the middle seat of his cruiser, silent and with your gaze down. You almost looked like you regretted what had happened, but he knew you had actually enjoyed it. Your slutty moans and your squirting cunt spoke for yourself ― the proof of your ecstasy still staining his uniform’s trousers.

He adjusted the mirror, paying more attention to you than to the road. Luckily, it was well past midnight, so there were not many cars around. You had parted your legs, probably on purpose, and gifted him with the sight of your tight pussy. Joel wished the interior of the car was better lit, so he could have a good look at your cunt.

Ah, yes, he knew you wanted more. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be exposing yourself like that to him. His cock twitched at the memory of being clamped down on by your narrow pussy, deeply buried in between your puffy lips. Joel bit the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes on the road ahead.

“Is my cum spilling out of your hole?”, he broke the silence.

You felt the guilt eating you up. You shouldn’t have pushed Officer Miller’s buttons like that. You blamed the last drops of alcohol running through your veins that had distorted your reality ― as soon as they disappeared from your system, you had realised that you didn’t want what was about to happen. However, your body had betrayed you, reacting to him and his provocations.

I’m not a cheater. I’m not a whore, you chanted, keeping the tears at bay.

But deep inside, you knew you were just lying to yourself. You blamed your body, but the reality was you did enjoy it ― all of it, everything he gave you, everything he took from you. You had never been so turned on in your life ― never squirted before, never had your pussy eaten so filthily from behind, never been used like that.

You pursed your lips, eyes down and still daydreaming about him fucking you senseless ― you unsuccessfully attempted to erase those hot flashes that your mind was trying to take you back to. Unconsciously, your legs had relaxed with your train of thought, and that was when you heard Officer Miller’s question.

You jumped in your seat and pressed your knees together, suddenly very conscious of your pussy. You could feel you had gotten wet again at the mere thought of him jackhammering into your cunt on top of the hood. Once more, you felt betrayed ― you didn’t want to feel like this, you didn’t want to be this horny for him.

You slowly nodded in reply, ashamed of yourself ― your unwelcomed slick dragging his cum out of you. But you wouldn’t tell him that, you wouldn’t let him know that your hole was crying for more.

“I― I think I’m making a mess of the upholstery. Sorry.”

Why did your voice sound so high-pitched, so moany? You needed to get a grip of yourself or you were going to end up impaled again. You kept your eyes down, avoiding his ― tears of frustration gathering on your waterlines.

“Only with my cum? Or are you gushing again, doll?”, he questioned with a husky voice.

You knew he was getting horny again ― your nipples reacted to that thought, wrinkling suddenly, your breathing accelerating.

You shyly looked up at him, your gazes meeting on the rearview mirror. His eyes pierced through you and you felt exposed ― there was no point in denying it, you knew he knew. So you nodded again with watery eyes.

“Yes, sorry”, you apologised, although you were not sure why.

“Yes what?”, he insisted, his attention dancing between the road and you.

“I’m― I’m gushing”, you replied in a very low whisper, so abashed a tear ran down your cheek.

Officer Miller didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip to the station, so you had more than enough time to dwell in your embarrassment.

Joel’s horniness was clouding his mind to a dangerous degree, so he summoned all his strength to drive the damn car instead of stopping in the middle of nowhere to fuck you again. After fifteen eternal minutes, he braked as he steered into the parking lot of the station. Then the cruiser came to a halt.

He had to cup his swollen bulge, kneading it a bit, in the hopes it wouldn’t be too noticeable. What a little minx you were, confessing your pussy was leaking all over the seat. You were acting all sheepish now, guilt-ridden, but Joel knew what you really wished for. And that was getting your cunt drilled again.

Walking out of the car, Joel got to the back door and opened it up for you. He extended his hand to help you out of the car, all gentlemanly. But when you grabbed it indecisively, he hauled you out of his Crown Vic. You gasped at his brutish manners, but quickly closed your mouth when your breasts pressed against his chest.

Joel hurried his hand down, riding up your skirt a bit, his fingertips caressing your inner thighs. You looked at him, a mix of surprise and shame, when he dipped his fingers in your silky slit. He moved them up and down a couple of times, buttering your fold with your discharge and his cum. You panted at his contact and your forehead leaned against his chest as if your neck was unable to support the weight of your head anymore.

You were so receptive to his touch, Joel had to control himself. If he could, he would turn you around, bend you over and fuck into your hole until dawn. But another patrol car entered the parking lot, stopping a few metres away. He scoffed in frustration, reluctantly removing his hand from in between your legs.

Stop, don’t, please stop, you wanted to tell him.

But the words never abandoned your mouth, stuck in the back of your throat. His fingers stroked you so intimately, so good, you couldn’t muster the strength to stop him. And, if you were completely honest with yourself, deep down you hoped he didn’t. When his digits traced your whole damp furrow, you tilted your head towards him ― your lips pressed against the pocket where he had kept your panties, in an attempt to mute the moan that wanted to slip out of your mouth.

And then he unburied his hand, leaving you spiralling down with lust. You whimpered, vexed. Your eyes were still half-lidded with desire, your mouth agape. Officer Miller took a step back, breaking all physical contact with you.

“You really are a harlot”, he muttered while the hand that had explored your pussy dipped in his pants, and you knew he was spreading your gush all over his cock. That should have disgusted you, and it did, but your pussy fluttered in response.

“Please don’t say that, and don’t do that again”, you were finally able to find your words.

He cocked a brow while taking out his hand of his trousers. You didn’t look down, although you wanted to. The thought of him wet with your tacky cum destroyed a few neurons in your brain.

“Your mouth says no, but your cunt says yes. And I believe your cunt more than I believe your mouth”, he announced, unbothered by your petition.

Then he rolled down your skirt, grabbed you by the elbow, and forced you to walk in front of him. But first Officer Miller got something out of the passenger’s seat ―your purse and the paperwork― before he pushed you towards the station with your hands still cuffed.

You pondered your options when the female officer on the counter greeted Officer Miller.

“Hey Joel, another drunken bird?”, she asked, her blue eyes ignoring you completely.

“Yeah, that’s a Saturday for ya”, he said boringly, his fingers still sinking in the flesh of your elbow while he handed her your license and insurance.

“I’ll book her in for you”, said the woman, looking down at the paperwork spread on her desk.

You wanted to say something, to ask her not to leave you alone with him, to tell her what had happened. But what were you going to say, really? That you actually enjoyed being fucked stupid on top of his cruiser’s hood? That you were still wet, the dampness in your fold begging to be licked again?

While still debating, you felt Officer Miller ―now you knew his name was Joel― staring at you. He probably suspected what you were thinking, it was like he could smell fear. You dropped your eyes to inspect your bare feet, silently letting him know that you wouldn’t say a word. If you had had a peek at him, you would have seen his sly grin.

“All the cells here are full, you’ll have to go to the adjacent building, I’m afraid.” You thought the female officer winked at him.

“That’s alright. Thank you, darlin’”, he smiled at her before pushing you in front of him. “C’mon, move.”

You shambled towards the backdoor, walked out and then Joel― Officer Miller opened the door to the secondary building. You entered with him on your heels. His body was so close to yours, you felt a pleasant tingling start on your neck that shot down your spine. You cockled your lips, disappointed in yourself.

The room was not too big, it only housed four cells, all of them empty. The only decoration was a wooden desk with a chair for a police officer to be stationed. There was also a small room at the end, which had a unisex bathroom sign on its door.

You didn’t like how isolated it felt in there ― you had hoped there would be someone else in there with you. To stop him, to stop yourself. You really were out of luck.

Officer Miller pushed you to the furthest cell in the room. “Stay”, he commanded while he uncuffed you, then grabbed the keys off a metal hook, unlocked the cell and opened the door for you. “Be my guest, doll”, his tone was so snide.

You simply obeyed with averted eyes. Maybe if you didn’t look at him, your pussy would stop palpitating. You could still feel his fingers buried in your tacky slit, your clit begging to be paid attention. He had left you so unsatisfied, your brain kept going back to the moment he ate your cunt from behind. You shuddered, conscious that you had to stop daydreaming about it.

“Now be a good slut and finish what I have started. I know your pussy is asking for it”, his voice rumbled under his breath, locking the cell behind you. Officer Miller dropped your purse on the table and unsheathed his gun to leave it there too. Slowly he turned and sat down on the chair, conveniently positioned in front of your cell.

You shook your head no with teary eyes. Teary not because you were afraid, but because you really wanted to ― frustration corroding your vaginal nerve endings. Your clit twitched as you sat down on the wooden bench, looking away from him.

“You’ll give in, sooner rather than later, I bet.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Miller manspreading on the chair, a hand slipping under his belt. His gaze was transfixed on you while he touched himself. You turned your head towards the wall, your clit lit on fire at the mere thought of him jerking off in front of you.

You pressed your knees together, looking for some relief and finding none. You tried not to but ended up whimpering in frustration. Joel was right ― you gave in. Your eyes welled up with shame and lust as you discreetly hid your hands between your parted legs. You caressed your clit with your index and then traced the entirety of your fold, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

His groan made you look askance in his direction. Joel had freed his cock through the zipper of his uniform trousers and was pumping himself. The sight of his veiny cock made your mouth run dry. Then you noticed he had something tied around his veiny dick. You had to take a second look, this time with no furtiveness, to see what it was.

He had wrapped your wet panties around his manhood and was rubbing himself with it. You couldn’t contain your whoring moan any longer after that. The vision of him masturbating with your underwear almost strangling his cock sent you in a spiral of desire ― you were, once again, out of control.

Two fingers slipped in your dripping opening while your thumb stroked your clit, this time more intently. Leaning your head back against the brick wall, you closed your eyes, whimpering like a bitch in heat as your digits picked up a reckless pace between your legs. Your breathing intensified, coming in and out in short bursts. Your cunt was so drenched that every time you pushed your fingers inside of you, wet, sucking sounds quickly followed each thrust.

Lava was pooling in your overstimulated furrow, your whole sex so slick your fingers slid in and out easily. Then you felt it: the climbing to the climax and then the falling. You screamed, bending over yourself, as the orgasm hit you hard, very hard. You dropped to your knees on the floor while you felt your insides melting, your inner walls trying to squeeze something that wasn’t there. Your clit convulsed one last time, a moan tearing through your throat as you looked up, eyes closed, imploring to the heavens.

You had not noticed but Joel had stood up and was right in front of you, his dick poking in between the bars ― your panties still wrapped around the base of his cock. He was whacking off with a tight grip, his hips slanted forward. “Come over here, right now”, he emphasized.

His cock had you mesmerised, it was calling you. You wanted to suck him so badly, that you mewled as you crawled towards him.

Joel gritted his teeth at the scene. You moved towards him on all fours, panting and whimpering. You were such a hot mess his cock pulsated in his hand. When you were close to the bars, you straightened your back and sat on your heels, awaiting permission. Joel grinned at the sight ― he fucking knew you would cave in. Sliding a hand in the space between the bars, he placed it on the back of your head while resting his pelvis against the metal rods.

“Open wide”, he croaked with lechery, his mind somewhere far away.

His throbbing cock hurt like hell when you parted your lips and sticked your tongue out, your eyes still damp and your eyeliner running down your cheeks. Joel fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled it back, so your face was up. He spit in your mouth, deranged with lust, and then swiftly drove his dick down your mouth until your bottom lip was touching his hairy balls.

He held you there for an eternal minute, rejoicing in the wetness of your cavity while you simply choked on his cock. Tears sprung to your eyes at the intrusion, he was way too far down your throat. But did he care? No, he was just chasing his own release. Holding your head in place so you wouldn't go anywhere, he bobbed his waist back and forth, fucking your mouth as deep and fast as he could go.

You probably did it on purpose to drive him crazy, but your lips pressed around his girth as you tried to slurp all the fluids. You would gag from time to time, especially when he would force your head close to him, but you didn't turn away.

Joel looked down as he used your mouth as he pleased. Your eyes were all watery because of the deep intrusion, your lips rubbing against his skin, your palms against your knees as if you were all innocent.

Joel only tugged you back to free his dick when he felt your neck muscles contract, announcing you were close to throwing up.

God, how much he loved your mouth. The mouth of a whore.

You heaved, trying to catch a breath, fighting your gag reflex as much as you could. Your eyes met his. His pupils swirled with lust and that scared you.

Do I really want this?, you asked yourself again, unsure of the answer. You didn’t and did at the same time ― you couldn’t stop yourself. It was like you had lost your freewill and just turned into his plaything, letting him do with you as he deemed. You had succumbed to Officer Miller ― there was no point in fighting back, your own body was betraying you, getting wet in all the wrong places. Maybe if he finished quickly, he would let you be.

You looked up at him when he pushed you closer to his erection again. He was so ruthless ― with no care in the world, Joel dug his pulsing cock down your mouth again, the glans suffocating you once more and the fabric of your underwear tingling your nose. You unconsciously tried to clear your throat, suppressing a cough. Your bottom lip trembled because of how wide your jaw had stretched to house him. Your spit and his precum pooled in your mouth, dribbling down from your chin to your cleavage. You felt the trickle going down in between your boobs and wetting your top.

Joel grinned as he swept away a tear with his thumb.

“Now eat it like you mean it, like the slut you are”, he croaked.

Joel let go of your hair, both of his hands gripping the metal rods that separated you.

You pulled back to catch a breath and swallowed all the fluids that had accumulated in your mouth. Officer Miller was eyeing you expectantly, his dick twitching in front of you each time blood rushed through it. You broke visual contact to focus on his warm cock.

Without thinking, your fingers wrapped around his thick column and started pumping him while your tongue tapped the tip. His groan spurred you on, so you sucked on his glans like if you were a babe breastfeeding. From time to time, you would run your lips down his length, tracing the pulsating vein that fed his erection. By how his hips would sway every time you did that, you knew he loved it.

And so you repeated it, over and over again. Smother the tip, slide your lips down his cock, gently nibble and suck on his balls, and then back up ― your tongue sticking out while licking his shaft until you sealed his glans between your lips again.

Your body had a mind of its own, because your index found your clit again and caressed it softly. The core of your pleasure was heating up again ― your leaking entrance contracted suddenly when the lust reached a higher peak. You moaned with his dick in your mouth, eyes closed, as you fingered yourself unashamedly.

Then you felt it ― a hard pulsation in his cock, announcing he was close. Officer Miller tried to pull back so he wouldn’t come, but you were having none of it. You neglected your pulsing clit, threaded your arms between the bars and placed each hand on his butt cheeks. You forced him forward, pressing your palms against his ass, so he would be locked in place while your wanton mouth took him in as far down as you could.

You didn’t let him go and with a harsh, deep moan, Joel came in your mouth. His hot cum flowed in bursts and clogged your throat, almost asphyxiating you ― but you still didn’t let go. Your eyes were fixed on his, although he wasn’t looking ― Joel had closed his eyes to fully feel his orgasm, his hips still swaying back and forth in your mouth with the last wave of his release.

He fucking knew it. You were so hungry for him, you would even force an orgasm on him. His knuckles were all white due to the force he was using to grip the metal rods. His jaw was so clenched, he thought he might have chipped a tooth. When Joel regained control of his muscles again, he looked down at you and smirked.

“Aren’t you a little bitch, eh? You think because you’ve made me come a second time, I’m not gonna fuck that tight, tiny hole of yours? Well, you’re in for a treat”, he said matter-of-factly.

He just needed a bit of time to have an erection again. And, in the meantime, he was going to have fun with your body. A lot of fun.

Joel moved back his hips so his cock slid out of your mouth. In the process of doing so, a trickle of cum ran down the corner of your mouth. He quickly grabbed his shaft and with the tip, he gathered the cum off your skin and pushed it back between your lips. When you opened your mouth to collect his cum, he noticed you hadn’t swallowed.

“You gulp my cum down right now or else”, he demanded, inserting his dick in your mouth to help you keep it closed.

You tried to explain. “I’ve never don―”, you enunciated the words as you best could, your mouth still full with his spent and his cock.

He grunted, annoyed. “I don’t fucking care, don’t waste a drop of what I’ve given you. A good slut eats what is fed to her.”

Even though he was treating you like shit, your body got aroused at his words. Why? Stop, you begged to yourself, imploring for the gushing between your legs to disappear.

Joel glanced down at you with a cocked brow, awaiting. He wasn’t joking, he really meant it. So you swallowed ― twice, because there were still remnants of his sperm lingering in your mouth. You had never had anyone come in your mouth before ― let alone swallow it. It didn’t taste like you had expected it though ― it was warm and sweet, so smooth it just slid down your oesophagus without effort.

He literally had just used you like if you were his personal glory hole. You should feel ashamed of yourself ― and you did, very much so. But right now, your lust was greater than your shame. And the proof was on the floor between your knees: there was a small puddle, your fluids right there for him to see.

Oh, and he saw.

“Such a whore, you’re dripping like a broken pipe. Aren’t you embarrassed of yourself?”, he asked into the void.

You just whimpered, maddened with unspent passion. Your clit was still twitching, your opening palpitating. Had you not had enough embarrassment already? You had come five times, and you still needed more. Officer Miller was right ― you were a whore. You circled your clit, your eyes fixed on his, almost begging him to help you out.

“Don’t worry, doll, I ain’t done with you yet. Turn around”, he ordered you.

You blinked at him, unsure if he was to be trusted. A voice inside your head screamed at you not to, but you ignored it. You were so horny, you just wanted the fire within you to be extinguished.

You let a soft cry escape your lips as you obeyed his command ― you were on all your fours, your ass cheeks resting against the metal bars, your puffed-up pussy completely exposed to him. You heard him kneel behind you before cupping your whole cunt with the span of his palm, rubbing it delicately.

“Will you look at that? Obedient like a bitch in heat. With a red, swollen pussy, all ready for me to play with”, he laughed at you while you simply bleated, shaking your head yes at his words, uninhibited.

Joel suddenly slapped your cunt so hard, your arms failed you and ended up in a knee-chest position, your ass up in the air for him. “Ouch!”, you let go, your cheek resting against the concrete on the floor.

A cold, rubbery texture kissed your pussy lips and you lifted your head over your shoulder to see what it was. Joel was wielding the nightstick that was attached to his belt a second ago ― he lodged it between your damp flaps, moving it up and down to wet it with your discharge. You moaned, really moaned out loud, knowing what was about to happen.

With your forehead against the concrete floor, you closed your eyes with pure satisfaction when Joel started penetrating you with the baton. Your nails scratched the hard surface underneath, your very curated manicure ruined. Officer Miller pushed in a few more inches, your flesh parting to house the stick. And then, abruptly, you wailed in pain as the end of the nightstick kissed your cervix rather harshly.

You saw stars behind your eyes and tried to push away.

“No, doll, no. Stay put for me”, his free hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place.

You remained still for a minute, while you adjusted to such deep intrusion. The pain had been very intense, but it started wearing off as Joel spun the nightstick around in your hole. After a while, you finally relaxed and the cop resumed, pumping the baton in and out of you slowly. Then his hand drifted down from your lower back to your quivering clit and he kneaded the right spot expertly.

You whined, the pleasure so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes again. You fluttered your eyelashes to clear your vision, your mouth open wide, your breathing irregular. Your womanly cave clutched onto the nightstick, all wet and sensitive. You could feel your heartbeat on your cunt, pulsating so hard it was maddening. His thumb pressed circles on your clit and you sobbed audibly, your orgasm so close you were on the verge of the precipice.

Then a phone went off, you were barely conscious of it ringing until Joel stopped what he was doing and stood up.

“No, please, please, Joel please”, you begged, almost crying, wanting to come so badly.

He left you there, on all your fours and with this baton sticking out of your weeping cunt, almost fully inserted.

“Ah, look, Sweetie is calling you. Bet he’s all worried about you”, he chuckled walking towards you, your cell phone on his hand. He had also taken something from your purse, but you couldn’t see what before he put it in his pocket. “Pick up and pretend you’re not having the best sex of your life.”

He put the phone on speaker and left it by your head. Your mind raced with panic, a very tight knot forming in your throat. This made it too real; you were really cheating on who you thought was the love of your life. And what was worst, you were cheating on him and enjoying it like the slut you were.

“Hey, honey? Are you okay?”, your boyfriend said.

“H―Hi, sweetie. Yeah, I’m fine”, you managed to reply with a steady voice.

Then Joel started jackhammering you with the baton relentlessly, so hard it forced you to close your eyes. Your moist pussy compressed so tightly around the rubbery stick, you had to cover your mouth to stop a moan from coming out.

“Where are you? I thought you’d be back like an hour ago”, he inquired, noticeably worried.

“I… I am in a nightclub, just walked out when I saw you calling”, you lied through your teeth. Joel cackled behind you while his thumb caressed your clit again, putting a sweet amount of pressure on it. “Ah, mhmmm… I should be back home in… uhmmmm… like an hour maybe?”, you bit your bottom lip, soft moans slipping out.

“You sure you’re okay? You sound weird, honey”, your boyfriend insisted.

Joel picked up a very fast pace with the baton, drilling you with it so hard the climax was fast approaching. Your whole body was rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts. Your clit melting at his suggestive touch.

“Yes, I drank a bit, mhmmmm… that’s all. I’ll get a taaaahmmh-xi back. Gotta go”, you talked fast, wanting to get the words out before you wailed. You managed to cover your mouth again just in time.

“Okay, take care, honey. I love you.”

At that point, the end of the baton kissed your cervix again but this time it pushed you over the edge. You had the biggest contraction of your life, your angry pussy trying to break the nightstick inside you. You came so hard, you squirted so much it almost looked like you had pissed yourself ― the puddle on the floor had grown considerably. Your eyes welled up, your creamy pussy fluttering, and your clit still writhing. You bit into your hand to suppress the loudest, sluttiest moan of your life.

“Honey?”, your boyfriend said, weirded out by the fact you hadn’t said it back as you always did.

Your orgasm was still washing over you. “Love you too”, you whispered, so guilt-ridden you wiped away some shameful tears from your cheeks.

Then he hung up.

“Oh wow, this is what love looks like to you? I almost feel sorry for the guy”, he made fun of you as he got up, the nightstick still inserted in your pussy. “Up”, he instructed you.

You had nothing to say, because you deserved his pun. There was no denying you were enjoying yourself a little bit too much. With a defeated sigh, tired of fighting your inner battle, you stood up with trembling knees. Your legs felt so wobbly you had to hold on to the bars.

Officer Miller dangled the keys in his hands before opening the door of the cell. For a second you thought that was it, he was done, even though he said he wasn’t a few minutes ago. But when he walked in front of you with his cock poking out the zipper of his uniformed pants, you knew he wasn’t.

Disappointment but also excitement came over you.

“Walk towards the bench. Get up on it on all your fours, doll.” He guided you to the farthest corner of the cell, where it was dark and hidden away in case someone interrupted.

It was like he knew all the blind spots. Had he done this before with someone else? A pang of jealousy tugged at your belly. You’re not the only one, you told yourself.

Completely surrendered to his desires ―and your own―, you followed his lead and did has he commanded. Once you were in the position he wanted you in, he walked to your side and nudged your cheek with the warm, tacky head of his cock.

“Give it a kiss, show me some gratitude”, he husked in a rumbling, raspy tone.

You turned your head ninety degrees and kissed the tip. He still had your panties wrapped around his erection. Licking your bottom lip, your eyes locked on his. A wide grin spread on his face. The motherfucker looked like a goddamn god when he smiled like that, dimples on his cheeks.

“Suck on it like if it was your personal pacifier, darlin’.”

Your tongue twirled around the plump tip as he finally took the baton out of your quivering pussy. You gasped at the emptiness you suddenly felt, his glans caressing your palate. Remembering your order, you quickly sealed your lips around the head of his cock and sucked on it, never breaking eye contact. The tip of your tongue tried to wiggle its way down his slit, slightly parting it and making him groan deeply.

You kept up the work with your smothering lips as one of Joel’s hands travelled down your back, briefly caressing one of your butt cheeks, to then cup your silky cunt. His fingers dipped in your welcoming slit, so velvety they slid up and down with no resistance whatsoever. He rubbed you softly while you worked diligently to make him hard again. One of his fingertips tempted you by getting lost in your needy hole, but he quickly removed it.

“C’mon, let’s get your wanton pussy ready again to ride some cock”, Officer Miller stepped back, his now hard cock slipping out of your mouth.

He walked around the bench and knelt behind you, your pulsing cunt perfectly lined up with his eye level. His mouth hovered over your ass cheek and then bit into your flesh ― his teeth marks were going to be there tomorrow, but that was not your main worry right now.

With no previous warning, he spread your cunt open and licked it from the clit to the perineum in one long, sweet stroke. You swooned at the feeling, half-lidded eyes and pursed lips. Moaning again, Officer Miller ate your pussy masterly while fisting himself, his tongue lingering in the right spots. He then taunted your clit while he fingered you slowly, his fingertip rubbing your g-spot.

Joel alternated his finger and the tip of his tongue to intrude in your opening. It felt delicious, his wetness mixing with yours. His hooked nose would get trapped in your slit when his mouth dropped to attend to your needy clit ― you heard him inhale your scent with no shame, dragging his nose in your silky fold as his mouth returned to your shaking entrance.

Officer Miller really knew how to eat pussy, so much so you would dream about his mouth feasting on your cunt every single night for the foreseeable future. Probably every single day too.

Your breaths quickened, fire melting your insides, your clit so sensitive you didn’t know if it was painful or delightful. You felt like you were about to ride the biggest wave of your life ― and then he stopped, standing up.

Frustrated sobs left your lips, almost mewling ― your pussy begging for release.

Your inner battle had been silent for a while, but came back with full force when you felt Joel’s cock lodged between your tumescent flaps, dousing himself with the product of your pleasure. He waved his hips against you, his dick skidding through your gushing furrow with ease.

He was going to fuck you again.

You tensed up, but you should have known this was coming. You didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend again. Cheat for real, that was. Penetration was where you had marked the invisible line in your mind between cheating and just messing around.

Touching yourself while thinking of Joel’s cock? Not cheating.

Sucking his dick like a thirsty, panting dog? Not cheating.

Letting him fuck you with his nightstick? Not cheating.

Talking to your boyfriend while another man made you come? Not cheating.

Getting your pussy blissfully eaten from behind? Not cheating.

Him fucking you senseless with his cock? Definitely cheating.

You knew it sounded stupid, but your mind was really making an effort to make you feel a bit less guilty about what was happening.

You did not want this. Yes, you had messed around with him at first, but once your bravado abandoned you, you realised you did not want this.

Right? Right? Or at least you tried to convince yourself of it.

“No, wait”, you whispered when the tip of his throbbing cock kissed your dripping entrance.

Joel slid his drumming cock between your soaked folds, wetting himself. His mind spiralling down with desire, with lust. He took a moment to revel in the feeling of having his dick sweetly sheathed by your sodden lips.

Then he lined up the head of his thrumming dick with your drenched opening. When he heard your infuriating petition, he just cocked a brow. No, you were not going to deny him that, not after all the effort he had put into making you come over and over again. Your denial angered him.

“What a selfish slut you are”, he muttered furiously between gritted teeth before impaling you in one deep thrust ― his hips entirely flush against your pussy, his cock buried as far as it could go.

You moaned like the bitch you were and rolled your hips back into him, your trembling cunt hugging his cock.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he murmured, still mad at you.

How fucking dared you tell him no? You were such an ungrateful bitch. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, not when you had been enticing him all night.

Joel spanked your ass hard, and you whimpered ― the palm of his hand leaving a red imprint on your skin. “You’re a whore. Say it out loud.”

“I am a whore, I am. I’m such a slut for you, Officer”, you wailed, bouncing your hips back and forth while he stayed still, fucking yourself with his dick.

Your neediness mildly soothed his anger, but not enough.

He slapped your ass again before grasping your hips to keep you in place, then Joel started fucking you as hard and as fast as he could, rutting into your tight hole mercilessly. His mind was just blank as the orgasm started to build within him ― the muscles in his lower tummy tensing, his balls contracting, his cock pulsating to the rhythm of his heartbeat. This was heaven, your pussy was.

He kept drilling you relentlessly, your whines growing louder and deeper, meeting his thrusts by pushing back your hips into him. The pace was so diabolical, your back arched, almost resting against his chest in a half-standing position. His broad hands left your waist and travelled up to hold your boobs while he perforated you, the carnal sound of flesh colliding against flesh filling the room.

Joel suddenly stopped, sliding out, and you whimpered, not wanting to be left unsatisfied again. You didn’t see what he was doing until he stuffed your mouth with your panties and covered your mouth with his hand, inserting his dick back into you unceremoniously.

“Don’t scream so loud or they are going to hear you. And I don’t want you to get me into trouble, understand?”, he threatened, resuming the plunging of his throbbing cock into your wanton cunt.

You just nodded, biting down on your underwear, while he fucked you stupid. So hard, so fast, so filthy, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your muffled moans announced your next climax, your pussy clamping down on his pulsating cock.

You both came undone at the same time, his hand still over your lips as Joel’s warm spent filled you up for the second time tonight. It came out of him in waves, both of your sexes beating in harmony.

Sweaty and tired, Joel let go of your mouth to move his hand down to slap your clit harshly. You whimpered, your clit so oversensitive it twitched one last time, making you come again. You bent over, resting your weight on your hands, as Officer Miller remained inside you for a few minutes, you cockwarming him with no complaints.

Suddenly hearing the ripping of plastic, you looked over your shoulder to see how he opened the packaging of a tampon with his teeth. And then, before you could think, he took his soft erection out of you and immediately inserted the tampon in your leaking hole, using it as if it was a vaginal plug to contain his semen inside you.

“Do not even think about taking it out until at least tomorrow. Understood?”, you nodded frantically, feeling slightly humiliated, but you didn’t say a word.

Joel pulled down your skirt and then placed the palm of his hand in front of your mouth. You spit your messy panties on his palm and he put them back in his pocket. You didn't bother asking for them this time, you knew he wouldn't give them back. And, weirdly enough, you wanted him to keep them.

You sat down on the bench with him standing in front of you. You looked up at him, your eyeliner all smeared on your cheeks. Your lips were swollen of eating so much dick.

“I think you’ve learnt your lesson now, right, doll?”, he asked with a smile, sweeping away the tears on one of your cheeks with his thumb. The gesture was almost sweet and caring.

You nodded again, wholly submitted to him. “Yes, Officer.”

“Good girl. Now go clean yourself up in that bathroom over there. I’ll take you home so your poor little boyfriend doesn’t worry about you”, he chuckled as you got up and hid in the small restroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You definitely had gotten more than what you had bargained for. But as much as you wanted to blame Officer Miller for everything that happened tonight, you knew you had been asking for it. With a heavy sigh and out of tears, you washed your face, your thighs and your sensitive pussy.

Once you walked out of the toilet, all semi-decent again, you saw Joel leaning against the wooden table, arms crossed at his chest. When you approached, he got up. His frame was so broad with square shoulders, his biceps flexing in that uniform, you kind of understood yourself for giving in to temptation. He was something else. Maybe it was the uniform, maybe not, but there was something about him that made your pussy melt for him.

Forgetting him and this night was going to be a herculean task. Would your boyfriend ever live up to him? Even to a shadow of what Joel had given you?

You halted in front of him. As if you were his, he dropped a hand in between your legs, his fingertips looking for your now clean hole. You separated your legs slightly to give him access without remonstrance.

He smiled at you sufficiently when he noticed the tampon was still in you, just as he had commanded.

“Good girl”, he muttered, gently caressing your clit as a reward for your good behaviour.

Against all odds, you smiled back at him, swooning at his praise.

You did the journey back home on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s Crown Vic. From time to time he would check the tampon was still in its rightful place, stroking your clit in the process. Had your hole been unplugged, you would have leaked on the upholstery again.

You both remained silent ― your mind racing with thoughts, trying to come to terms with what you had done.

What were you going to do? Were you going to confess to your boyfriend? Would you keep it a secret? Joel had fucked you so good, you thought you would never enjoy sex with anyone else.

Damn, your mind was a tangled mess. But you blamed it on his tentative finger, still stroking your clit.

The cruiser stopped and you looked at the building in front of you. You had arrived at your destination. Joel removed the hand from your fold and you sighed, gripping the handle.

But before you opened the door, you looked at Officer Miller.

“Will I ever…?”, you didn’t finish your question because he was eyeing you with amusement, his pupils flickering with fun.

“G’night, doll.”

Had you just been rejected? It felt like it, because it stung real bad. You pressed your lips together and, without another word, you exited the car and ran to the safety of your flat.

You entered as silently as you could. You got to the restroom and changed your clothes ―or what remained of them― for your pyjama, throwing everything in the washer. Tiptoeing towards the bed, you saw your boyfriend sleeping on his side.

Guilt and embarrassment ate at you, but you kept them at bay. You were tired, only wanting to go to bed ― tomorrow would be a new day. Pushing those thoughts away, you slid under the bedsheets and stayed on your side of the bed.

A minute later, your boyfriend turned around and hugged your waist, spooning you.

“Hi, honey. Did you have fun tonight?”

His question stabbed at your heart.

“Yeah, it was good seeing the girls.”

You wouldn't believe how much fun I actually had, you thought out of nowhere.

“Mhmmm, good, good…”, one of his hands wrapped around your waist and coincidently rested on your lower belly.

You had felt his swollen groin against your butt but decided to ignore it because you were completely spent. Joel had taken all the orgasms you could have today ― you had nothing left to give.

But your boyfriend didn’t know that, so he dipped a hand under your pyjama’s shorts, looking for your slit. Then he found the tampon string and grunted.

“You’ve got your period?”, he asked, disappointed.

You hadn’t really forgotten to take it out. Weirdly enough, you still felt compelled to follow Officer Miller’s demands. You were going to leave it there till tomorrow's afternoon, his cum warming you up. You didn't want to let go of the memory, not just yet.

“Yeah, it came earlier, sorry, sweetie.” You lied ― and felt really bad for it.

He sighed heavily, disheartened, and removed his hand from in between your legs. “It's okay, good night, honey.” He kissed your neck.

You were ever so slightly disappointed in him ― you were sure a bit of blood would have not stopped Joel from fucking you.

Ah, comparison was really the thief of joy.

“Good night”, you whispered back, fully conscious of Joel’s cum sitting snugly inside your pussy.

[redrose10]

Part 2 of three… Thank you for all the comments and messages!

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun, drug references, gang activity, murder, overdose

Word Count: 3,824

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You woke up confused and alone in a room you didn’t recognize. Your throat hurt, but your head hurt worse. You looked around trying to make out your surroundings to get some idea of where you were. The room was empty except for an armchair in the corner with a small side table next to it. The only light in the room came from a small space between the curtains of what you assumed was a window. It seemed like you had been out for quite some time judging by the amount of sunlight.

You tried to stand up, but you felt too weak immediately falling to the ground. You tried once again, but froze when you heard the door handle begin to jiggle. The door swung open and a light was turned on making you squint from the change in brightness.

“Good morning Y/N, good to see you’re finally awake. Can I get you something to eat or maybe a coffee?”, a deep unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Who are you and how the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat not in the mood for pleasantries.

The man walked in and took a seat in the chair across the room. You took noticed of his expensive looking suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back. A strong cologne followed after him. He reminded you a lot of Yoongi.

“Is that anyway to speak to the man that saved your life and took you away from that monster?”, he said while lighting a cigar.

You scoffed, “You saved my life? My life was just fine until you kidnapped me and threw me in this room.”

“Oh dear Y/N. You really are too good and naive for Yoongi.”, the man chuckled.

The mention of Yoongi made your breath hitch.

“How do you know Yoongi?”

“Well Y/N…I am glad you asked. You see me and Yoongi go way back. We met when we were just children. We used to be very good friends, actually like brothers. We ran a little side business together. The largest drug manufacturing and distribution organization since the 80’s, you know… nothing too extreme. Then one day Yoongi’s parents decided to finally give him the reigns to control the business and suddenly he didn’t need me or our organization any more. I agreed to let him walk away because he was my brother and I loved him as such. I wanted him to have a good life either way.”

The man paused to take a long draw of his cigar before continuing, “But it turns out that wasn’t good enough for Yoongi. He was selfish. He wanted to take everything we had worked for while also making sure his past life would never get out to the public. He lied to me. He deceived me because he knew I trusted him. He took all of our assets, every cent. He destroyed any evidence that could be linked to him. And then to top it all off he went to the police to get the whole operation shut down to make sure this could never come back on him. But..unfortunately for him I’ve been able to build back most of what we had even though it’s nowhere near what we once had. It took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money and many of my men all while I’ve had to watch him live the life of luxury in his comfy office, going to galas, being praised and awed by strangers around the world that don’t know how evil he really is behind the facade of expensive suits and sultry looks. I vowed that I would get my revenge against him and make him pay for what he did to me…to us. I was starting to loose hope that I would ever get my chance.”

The man suddenly stood up and took a few long strides to kneel down in front of you. You pushed yourself back against the wall as far as you could while trying to conceal your whimpers.

The man poked his finger against your forehead, “And then I saw the photos of your little date. I could see it in his eyes…just how in love with you he is. I knew this wasn’t some random hookup like the others. And I knew that my time had finally come. Min Yoongi took everything from me and now I will take everything from him.”

“So what are you going to do? Just kill me to get back at him?”, you scoffed.

“Oh no no no Y/N. Not yet at least. I’m going to have some fun first. I want him to suffer for a while. I want him to worry about you until he’s sick to his stomach. For him to know your pain is all his fault. Then I want to kill him.”

You watched as the man walked over to the door before he turned to look back at you, “At the end of the day Yoongi doesn’t care about anyone or anything except himself, his image, and his money. You’re going to learn real soon about the real Min Yoongi.” The man stood up and left you speechless as you watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, Yoongi chanted as he drove around trying to figure out his next move. He knew he never should’ve asked you out. He scolded himself for being weak for you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you and how he developed an immediate crush on you. Something he’d never experienced before. He saw you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You were definitely new. You kept eyeing him before quickly turning away every time he’d try and make eye contact with you. He knew you liked him. He wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately he liked you too. Your cheeks flushed from nervousness and the heat of running around in behind the counter. Your hair wet from sweat and plastered to your forehead. You bit your lip in concentration as you poured the coffee. You looked so cute to him and he wanted to get to know you. To date you and make you his.

Then you shakily handed him his coffee only to knock it down on the counter spilling all over his favorite custom made shoes. Sure he had three other pairs so it really wasn’t a big deal, but he took it as the opportunity to scold you hoping to make you hate him. Selfishly hoping it would keep you away from him so he wouldn’t fall for you even more.

But it didn’t work as he had hoped and he quickly fell more madly in love with you every time he saw you. Then his parents made him get a job at Jin’s Java House. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He tried to argue with them, pleaded for another option but to no avail. He thought he was strong enough. He started off trying to be rude while working together to make you hate him even more then he already knew you did, but it only made him feel guilty and left him wanting to make it up to you any way he could.

Then he tried distracting himself with other women, sometimes as close even ten minutes before he came down for his shift at the coffee shop with you. But even when his secretary was topless and moaning underneath him as he thrusted into her on his office couch all he could think about was you and your beautiful smile and how he wished it was you below him instead. As he was burrowed deep inside someone else he fantasized about how he would take his time and do everything possible to pleasure you until it was you screaming his name over and over. He knew it was a lost cause at that point because he was a man in love. And now here he was driving around the city while you were God knows where because of him and his weaknesses.

Yoongi regretted his past life. He wasn’t proud of what he did. He had gotten in a little trouble at school so his parents had told him he was a failure and they would sell the company before allowing him to take control. He felt hurt and useless and desperate to prove them wrong.

So as a teenager he turned to crime. Him and his best friend started dealing drugs. It started small with just some weed or pills here and there to other friends and their acquaintances. Then it got bigger and bigger until next the thing he knew they were moving thousands of kilos of various drugs every year worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They had bases in Seoul, LA, New York, Tijuana, London, Rio, Moscow, and Beijing as well as dozens of smaller ones he couldn’t even remember any more. Money was rolling in like he’d never seen even though he already grew up wealthy. He had a new woman every night and said goodbye to them before the morning with no strings attached. He was on top of the world and the best part was he was doing it all with his best friend.

Then he got a call. His dads health was deteriorating. The generational family company was falling apart. His mom was coping by drinking and popping pills, probably from his own supply unbeknownst to her. They were proud of him for becoming so successful in his “pharmaceutical business”, a lie he told when people started questioning his job or where his money came from. His parents had changed their minds and wanted him to take over the company. Become the ceo and bring profitability and success back to the family name and business.

At first Yoongi told them to fuck off. He wasn’t going to give up what he had worked hard for after they tossed him aside like he wasn’t their own flesh and blood.

Then days later he got another call from one of the few people in the world that he respected, his grandmother. She asked Yoongi to take over the company that her and his grandfather had fought so hard to build and turn into an empire. She didn’t want to see it given to someone outside of the family or worse have it shut down completely.

Yoongi tried to politely decline, but then solemnly she begged him. She begged him to take over not only to save the company, but so that he could escape his life of crime before he ended up in prison or worse. She cried reminiscing about how many times she stayed up all night worried about him and what he was doing out in the world. How every phone call made her heart skip a beat fearing the worst. How she saw families being torn apart thanks to him and his business’s product. She begged him, even referring to him as her little dumpling, a nickname she had often used for him growing up that he hadn’t heard in years.

Yoongi didn’t ask how she knew about his secret life. He didn’t want to know to be honest, but he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears any longer. So he called his parents the next day to accept the position.

His friend had been kind and understanding, offering to let Yoongi just walk away from everything and leave him in charge.

At first that was fine. Then one night on his way home he found out that his neighbors daughter overdosed. She was just sixteen. A star student and respected ballerina already being scouted by some of the biggest dance companies from all over the world. Yoongi knew the drugs were from his prior organization. There were no others around at the time.

He watched the girls parents standing in the pouring rain until their knees gave out and they hit the concrete and sobbed as the stretcher carrying their daughter was wheeled into the back of a waiting van. After that night his grandmothers voice started playing over and over in his head often keeping him up along with the screams of the parents he heard that night.

Yoongi decided he wanted to erase that part of his life like it never happened.

Because he was still trusted by his friend he had access to the bank accounts which he wiped clean. He destroyed every document he could find that would tie him to the organization. Anonymously he contacted police in every city he could think of and helped them to track down all of their operations getting them all shut down. Multiple people were arrested and a few even killed. He did his best to convince himself that their blood was not on his hands.

And when the few that were arrested tried to snitch and implicate Yoongi there was no significant evidence and the little the police could find was quickly swept under the rug thanks to a little cash swung their way.

Yoongi was able to walk away without anyone knowing of his past life. His friend left to pick up the pieces of a once great empire. And now here Yoongi was paying the price for something he thought was long behind him and could no longer keep him from happiness.

You walked around the room as you looked for an escape. The window had bars around it. Of course the door was securely locked. There was nowhere to go. You didn’t have your phone any longer. You resigned to taking a seat back on the floor trying to come up with a plan.

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by but at some point later in the day a woman appeared with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and some toast as well as an apple and a bottle of water. You thanked her even though you had no appetite at all.

As you sat under the window staring up at the little bit of the sky you could see you wondered what was happening in the outside world. What happened at the coffee shop when you didn’t show up for work? Did they call looking for you? You were going to fall behind in your classes if that even mattered any more. Was Yoongi even looking for you or was he worried this would get out in the public and ruin his image? It was all becoming too much and you began to cry fearing the future and the unknown.

After a while of crying and dozing off you decided you were getting a little hungry. Remembering the tray from earlier you decided against the soup which was now cold and gelatinous, but the toast still seemed okay so you picked it up taking a bite.

It was slightly stale but passable. As you mindlessly chewed you noticed a small piece of paper on the plate where the bread had been.

With your brows furrowed you unfolded the paper finding a hand written note. The writing was barely legible as it appeared quickly scratched down and was written in some kind of lipstick.

“I’ll come back tonight. When you hear three knocks at the door be prepared to run.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart began to race. Quickly you chugged down the bottle of water as you contemplated if running was worth the risk. Surely if they caught you then you would be killed. And who is this woman and why is she helping you? What if it was a test?

You had a million different thoughts going through your mind, but they were cut short.

*Knock…Knock…Knock*

Slowly the door creaked open and the same woman from earlier peaked in the room. She motioned for you to follow her. What did you have to loose you thought so you did.

The two of you tiptoed down the hall and some stairs before you heard shouting after you.

“Run!”, the woman shouted so you sprinted not far behind her. You ran down hallways and and stairs. Looking for any exit door.

Just when you saw your hope, a door with a large window facing the outside world just down the hall from you, you were grabbed and harshly thrown down on the ground. You looked up seeing Yoongi’s friend breathing heavily.

“This is what I get huh? I tried to let you stay upstairs in a warm room. I gave you food. Yoongi always said I was the soft one out of the two of us. I guess he was right, but not any more.”, he spat dragging you down the hall by your arm.

Frantically you searched for the woman from earlier who tried to help you. You hoped she got out or was at least safe, but you quickly realized that was not true. A blood curdling scream rang through the air followed by a single gunshot. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. Not before you’ve gone on a final date with your Yoongi.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the man threw you in a cell, the iron gates loudly clanking shut. It looked like you were in a dungeon. It was cold and there was zero light coming through.

Without speaking the man tossed you an old dirty towel to use as a blanket before heading back upstairs leaving you down there alone.

Days went by. You were barely fed and barely slept. You had accepted your fate at that point. Unsure if it was the delirium setting in or what but you often found yourself chuckling at your situation.

You missed the days of going to college. You missed your friends. You missed the smell of coffee and the warmth it brought. You couldn’t believe how your life had turned around in the matter of hours all thanks to you falling in love with a lier, con artist, the devil? You weren’t really sure how to view Yoongi right now. He was probably leading a meeting right now without a care in the world. He’s probably going out to dinner later with some woman he met on his way to work with the sole intention to get in her pants by the end of the night. A small part of you hoped he was worried about you. Looking for you. Doing anything to help. Because a small part of you still loved him.

You hadn’t heard anyone walk in until you heard the iron gate slide open ending in a loud clank.

“Put this on. And use these wipes to clean yourself up.”, an unfamiliar voice said.

You sat staring at the items in front of you not moving.

“Bosses orders”, the man growled.

Slowly you grabbed the wipes and began wiping down your face and arms. It actually felt kind of nice.

You reached for the other items, a black cocktail dress and hair brush. You took the brush and ran through your hair a few times until the knots were out.

You looked at the dress and then at the man in front of you. He rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around and facing the wall. Quickly you removed your clothes and put the dress on before the man could turn around.

Just as you finished, the familiar smell of cigars entered the air and not long after Yoongi’s friend appeared.

“Wow don’t you look nice. I can see why Yoongi likes you. I think he’ll appreciate that you dressed up just for him.”, he said before blowing a cloud smoke through your cell.

“Now go ahead and stand up against that wall.”, he pointed towards the other side of the cell.

You crossed your arms in defiance refusing to move.

He chuckled, “I like you Y/N. I really do. Too bad I’m only giving you twenty four hours to live.” Your face dropped in realization at his statement.

A bright flash lit up the cell for just a moment before you realized your photo had been taken.

“Thanks sweetheart. I’m sure Yoongi will love it.”, he laughed before leaving you alone once again.

Yoongi was back at his place pacing back and forth. He’d ignored call after call from Hobi. He’s sure he’s wondering where he and/or you are and he doesn’t have the brain power right now to come up with a believable lie.

As he stared out at the river below his apartment he heard a new notification on his phone. A text message from an unknown number came through showing the preview of a photo.

Clicking on the message he instantly dry heaved sure he would’ve fully vomited had he consumed anything today.

A photo of you in a black dress. Your hair frazzled. Immediately Yoongi noticed the bruising on your body. The cut on your lip and welt on your forehead. What killed him the most was the look on your face. The look of fear, of despair. He could see you were holding back tears and it was all thanks to him.

Seconds later another message came through, “Y/N’s a beauty Yoongi. I always did think you had good taste when it came to women and it seems like even after all these years nothing has changed. You have 24 hours to find us. If you involve the police I’ll kill her instantly. If you even care…”

You had changed back into your old clothes giving yourself a little more coverage from the cold. The floor was made of stone but you were so exhausted you were able to drift off to sleep quite quickly.

You fell into dreamland. Dreaming that you were on a beach. The warm sun shone down on you as a breeze rippled through the air. The ocean waves crashed gently against the sand next to you as you walked along the edge. Looking up you saw Yoongi just down the beach waiting for you. He flashed you a gummy smile showing you the two drinks he had in his hands. Just as you began to walk towards him the sky turned dark and a giant wave came crashing down on you dragging you out to sea. You screamed for help unable to get yourself out of the current as the waves kept you down. Running out of fight you felt yourself slowly drifting under water father and rather. The last thing you remembered was hearing Yoongi screaming your name.

You jerked awake sweaty and out of breath with your hand clutching to your chest.

Sitting up you did your best to try and calm yourself down taking deep slow breaths.

Faintly from a distance you swore you heard your name shouted. You brushed it off thinking it was just a residual memory from your dream.

Then you heard it again, a little clearer this time and you were a little more certain.

“Yoongi?”, you whispered to yourself hearing a familiar sound as the door slammed open.

[quietlyinlife]

Platonic Yandere Father Leon Kennedy

•If Leon is possessive and obsessive with his wife, then you are in the same position as your mother but worse the moment you were born and being held in his arms. 

•After all the hardships and deaths he experienced when he was a newbie cop and the outbreaks that occurred, he didn’t want you to leave him or your mother. The two people he loves so much that Leon is willing to give up saving the world in order to rescue you and his wife.

•Leon may not have gotten the childhood he wanted after his parents’ death but he didn’t want you to go through the same traumatic experience as he did when he was a kid.

•Also made you another reason why he should continue fighting to stay alive.

•As a father, he would aid your mother to take care of you, help her bathe you, feed you, go out to buy baby supplies, and insist that your mother should stay home and play with you before he comes back.

•When his job doesn’t call for him, he spends all his time and attention on you. Showing you the toys he brought as you lay on your crib and watching him give you many plushies to hold. Would coo at you while he carries you and makes a promise to you that even if you grow up into an adult, he will always protect you and your mom and kill anyone who tries to take the both of you away.

•Definitely watches over you in the middle of the night after waking up from one of his many nightmares. Eyes were glued to you as you slept and sometimes he would doze off on the couch in the nursery room.

•Would play games with you like hide and seek or tag when you learned how to walk and talk.

•As a child, you were naive about the dark past Leon has with your mom, you only noticed how your mom was never allowed to go outside alone with you. Only Leon could accompany you and your mom during outings together. You also noticed how tightly his hand held your mom’s while the three of you went on a walk through the empty road in an isolated forest where the house is located. Leon never allows you to run far.

•When it’s just you and your mom at home, she begins to tell you stories about how she met your father when both of them were young. Your father used to be a police officer and he saved her from being attacked and they went traveling around Raccoon City. She left the outbreak of the t-virus part out, including how she got kidnapped by Leon a few weeks later after six years when he finally reunited with her.

•As you grow up into a teenager, you start to begin to notice how isolating your father is. One time you asked if you could go outside, Leon would look at you, startled before a smile forms on his face, and gives a short speech about how dangerous this world is and how there are dangers at every corner. But he would take you outside the home if you begged enough for a four-minute walk before going back inside. But if you asked one more time to go out he’ll usually ignore you or just say no.

•Leon never lets you go out alone, or out with some friends. Your dad doesn't trust anyone with you or your mom.

•Leon is a spoiling father, buying you anything you want with no limits if you asked. Your mother taught you to be grateful for all the things Leon and her have done for you. 

•Leon is a bit too much as a father, he hates when you do something without him, or on your phone and not paying attention to him, and wants you to always text him or say it to him physically goodnight to him before sleeping. But what Leon hates the most is when you watch horror movies and he would sometimes get a bit ptsd from them when he sees a scene quite similar of what he went through. He thinks you're too young for them and bad for your mental health so if he ever catches you watching something scary, he would give you a death stare before turning the tv off.

"I don't want you to ever watch any of this." Leon fumes, a frown casting across his face as his tone is deep and dark. His eyes stares deep into your own. Not once looking away from you, You were nearly quivering on the couch but kept a brave face. And ever since that day, you only watched horror movies inside your room on your laptop.

•Would ask you questions about your day when he comes home. Also expects you to go to him for a hug when he returns from his mission. If you don’t show up then he’s at the door of your room, knocking and engulfing you into a tight hug. You’re not allowed to complain.

“Am I not allowed to hug my only child? I miss you every day even when we live in the same house together.” He tells you as he pulls you back to look at your face with a questioning look.

•You’re not the only victim of his affections, your mom is too as he forces kisses on her face.

•Leon also checks your phone sometimes just to watch out for you, as he claims but you brush it off since he just wants to see if your friends are a bad influence. You kept it from your father when he was away for his job as an agent, you would always delete the messages between you and your friends.

•But what you didn’t know is that Leon hacked into your phone before he even gave it to you as a gift when he first brought it for you when you turned 13 years old; giving him access through your contacts and other stuff. He simply wants to know if you hide things from him. You would never find out the real reason why your friends suddenly leave the school. There’s nothing you can hide from him.

•You started to become a bit scared of your father when you started to read people's horrifying experience on the internet of what they went through of someone stalking them and obsessing over them. One woman told the story of how her boyfriend never allowed her to talk to any guy or friends because he was scared they were going to take her away from him. But when she confronted him about his behaviour, he excused it saying that "This world is dangerous and I am simply protecting you." And you quickly found out that your dad is more than just an agent.

•You noticed how jumpy your mom is around Leon and how in the middle of the night, he would always say how much he loves her and that he is doing this for your and her own good. You even recall hearing your mom crying silently in the kitchen. She never says "I love you" towards Leon.

•Your curiosity brought you to investigate your parent's past.

•You only came to fully realize the toxic behavior of your father because you decided to snoop around your dad’s office after managing to open the door, using the lock-picking technique you learned from the internet.

•You were curious about why your father forbade you from entering his office, but also you figured it would be easier starting with him considering of his actions and it’s not like he would find out immediately of what you did. That’s what you reassured yourself.

•Many documents could be found and a report on your father’s desk, that’s when you came to know about the Kennedy report and see your father’s younger picture. You saw how stoic and stern his face was, so dull with no sign of light.

•You could definitely understand why as you read through the report.

•You also came to know what actually happened in Raccoon City that your mom didn’t tell you about. But what was more shocking is that you opened a file containing your mother’s entire information that was hidden in his drawer and many pictures of her. Including a newspaper talking about the missing woman who is known to be your mother.

•The moment Leon left the house not before giving your mom a goodbye kiss and giving you a kiss on the top of your head as well, you confronted your mother about the file and how she kept the outbreak from you. Even how your dad literally has an entire information and pictures of her. That’s when you saw her face morph into terror as you demanded an explanation of what is going on.

•Tired of her keeping secrets.

• And your mother told you the entire story of what happened in Raccoon City and Leon’s obsession that drove him to abduct her, as a way to protect her. She even mentioned that he cared for another woman named Ada Wong but he still chose your mom. Your mother didn’t leave any single detail out as she told her story of how Leon gaslighted her and how she tried to escape many times but failed. You couldn’t help but see your parents in a different light now.

“Let’s run away together Mom.” You told her with a determined expression as she profusely shook her head, not agreeing with you. 

“N-no my love, you don’t know what your father is truly capable of.” Your mother stuttered as she cupped your face.

“What do you mean? Dad’s a secret agent and he knows how to fight, right?”

“There’s more than that.” Mom whispers to you, her frightened eyes never leaving your face.

•What you two didn’t know is that Leon has placed hidden cameras in the house, watching and listening. He heard the entire conversation and was rather heartbroken that you suggested to escape with your mom.

•And even disappointed when he watched you go through his work in the office. Leon is not dumb because he knows there will be a time when you truly find out the truth. He is aware of your growing suspicion.

•If you ever escaped, you wouldn’t go that far since your father would always find you. He placed a tracker on your clothes, phone, and jewelry. If you wear it.

•Leon never treated you and your mother bad! He could never bring himself to even use violence towards the both of you. You didn’t understand but don’t worry. As a father, he’ll make you see through his perspective in his own way.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 3: sick/injury

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Where is Agent Y/L/N?” Spencer asked one of the police officers, trying to remain as calm as possible after hearing about the incident. The team had split up to cover more ground and, from what he had heard, you had been the unlucky one who had had to face the unsub, so you were probably bruised or even injured.

When the man pointed in a direction, the doctor could see you sitting on top of the ambulance, deliberately refusing the attention that the paramedic was trying to give you, so he immediately jogged to get to you.

“Oh! Thank goodness you're here, Reid. Tell this man I'm fine, there's nothing to worry about."

“Let me see you,” he murmured benevolently, as he leaned in your direction to hold your head with both hands and his eyes danced all over your face “Good night, did you check her vital signs?”

"I did it. Everything is fine, she is just a little shaken.”

“That wound on your forehead looks ugly,” he pointed out, when he turned your face to get a better look at it, completely ignoring your complaints. “I think it can be solved with steri-strips. Have you already disinfected the others?”

“I was trying to do it, but she won't let me,” the paramedic complained, as a teacher would do to the parent of a disordered child.

“Because I'm fine!”

“Oh, shut up,” he exclaimed, beginning to ask the health personnel for the appropriate healing materials since you refused to let them do it for you.

You huffed with resignation, because you believed that the doctor's presence there would save you from the routine processes and not that it would be the opposite. Spencer began to disinfect your wounds carefully and silently, feeling your attentive gaze on him until he finished.

“Did he hurt you more?”

“It only hurts on one side, the bastard kicked me,” you said without much importance, while you rubbed said area and his eyes opened wide.

“What if you have a broken rib? Let me see…"

“Reid,” you stopped him, because his hands had already gone, without a morbid intention, to the edge of your blouse to lift it “I appreciate your interest, but I'm fine, I would be crying from the pain if that weren't the case. I just have a few scratches and that's it. Calm down"

He felt guilty for being so insistent and wanted to be able to explain to you that he was only doing it because your well-being worried him tremendously, but instead he stayed silent and just nodded his head. His shy gesture touched you, so you reached out to pull his hand and pull him close to you.

“I'm sorry,” you added, while you hugged him from the side and he responded warmly. “It's just that you know I hate that you worry about me.”

“But I will always worry about you.”

“I know,” you laughed. “But save that concern for special occasions. Now I'm fine, you see?” You murmured as you raised your head in his direction, showing him all your teeth in an exaggerated smile. “Although I would feel better if you did something else.”

"What?" he asked with genuine interest, hoping he could be of help to you. You turned a face and pointed your thumb at your cheek, right next to where you had a bump that would probably turn into a purple mark. “Do you want some ointment there?”

“I want a kiss, Reid,” you laughed and when he opened his mouth in understanding, his cheeks also blushed “Only if you want.”

“Yes,” he responded kindly and then leaned over to you to place a chaste kiss that made you giggle. “Why does that make you feel better?”

“It just does,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Sometimes Spencer was too naive and didn't notice that you were madly in love with him.

“Well, I'll save this knowledge for future occasions,” he promised, putting on a tight-lipped smile that you had grown accustomed to.

And then every time you were hurt, he made sure to kiss you to speed up your recovery.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 4

“Justice just never sleeps.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi makes a decision and gives up on the nicotine gum.

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, explosions, fire, blood, threats, arguing, handjob, blowjob, riding

A.N. It's so hard to pick a favorite part, but I think this one might be it... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai for helping me around the clock and being an incredible beta! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Yoongi sighed as he made his way inside his office, dismissing his secretary when she tried to pass him a pile of files waiting for his review. It was the end of another exhausting Friday, and although he appreciated her commitment, she should have long gone home to her family instead of wasting time on this.

Closing the door behind him, he started a sequence of ceremonial steps: he took off his coat and hung it up, loosened his tie, grabbed more nicotine gum from his drawer, and then sat down, chewing it with a long sigh. The wall behind him had his many decorations, including the latest that landed him there.

Working with you was seamless and smooth, and justice was swiftly served. Not only was he able to recover the agent’s body and bring him home with honors, but the dismantling of the whole operation was a huge success. It gave him honors, medals, a ceremony with Seoul’s Mayor, and lastly, a promotion he didn’t even want. 

He heaved a deep breath; he couldn’t say he loved being Superintendent General. He preferred to be hands-on with the cases he and his team worked on, but he had moved too far up: he made decisions, but was too high in rank to see any of them carried out. He had more responsibilities and dreadful meetings that were more about competition between police agencies and politics than what actually mattered. And so for months, he’d been tolerating the bullcrap from all ends — from fellow Superintendent Generals and their chiefs from all over the country, including his boss, politicians, and Senior Superintendents complaining about the workload and the lack of resources as if he wasn’t in that position himself just months prior. It was exhausting and slow, and he kept asking himself what was the point.

But just like any other night, his ritual wasn’t complete if he didn’t open his locked drawer and pulled out a file with your name. Despite being frustrated and sometimes disgusted by the people in positions of power with so little consideration for the workforce or the people they served, there was nothing he could do. Instead, every night, he stared at your file and asked himself what he should do.

That night was engraved into his brain: you made a deal, he relapsed and asked you to let him eat you out, then proceeded to get so lost in you, that he didn’t even recognize himself. But then, you left him alone in your office, and that was when he saw those files.

He had managed to take photos of a few of them before leaving and had since printed them and worked on them. So he knew what they contained – details of money laundering. They depicted monumental amounts, to the likes that he was surprised even existed, but maybe he was just too naive. There were mostly coded names on those files, so he knew you were handling it for others and not just for yourself. It probably ran much deeper than a few bars or the drugs you were now distributing, safely, like you promised.

And that was the issue, wasn’t it? He groaned with himself, settling his face inside his hands. He used to see things as black and white, but the more time passed, the more he realized there was no such thing. Politicians, among other officials, ran the show, and he knew things were happening behind closed doors. You were as bad if not worse than the people you had helped him put away, but you kept your word: you gave him evidence to exonerate Officer Jimin, an alternative to bring the Klysa conglomerate down without ruining the lives of thousands of people, and gave him the address where he could find the agent’s body, not to mention crucial names that once picked, dismantled the net of dealers quite nicely.

So why was he after you? Were you the lesser evil? Were those exceptions to your usual criminal and selfish deeds? Or were you just deceiving him by pretending to play nice?

He didn’t know how you knew so much, but now he knew you laundered money, and he had evidence. Evidence he couldn’t use without disclosing how close he had gotten to you and risking discrediting himself. Evidence that could get him a warrant, even under heavy scrutiny. He could try to bring you down, even if it meant letting his career implode. His former self would have, but now he was hesitating, convincing himself every night that he should pursue this. If those documents existed, then his instincts about you were right all along and other evidence was out there, too. It was just business; you would throw him under the bus if it suited you, too. Right?

He heaved a deep breath and closed the file, deciding to bring it home and muse over it there this time around. The office was empty, and it was a lonesome way until he reached his car in the underground parking lot. He hated not seeing the liveliness of a police station anymore, but that was where he was now.

His phone rang through the car speakers as he drove, and he picked it up at the second beep, “What’s wrong?”

Something had to be for Officer Jung to call him at 1 AM.

“Remember the one you wanted me to keep an eye on?” 

Yoongi hummed as he maneuvered the car at an intersection; he was lucky with every detective and officer he had had the pleasure of working with.

“Just got the code for an explosion and fire at a restaurant downtown that she owns. First responders are on their way. Apparently, she was in the building.”

“Which one?”

His grip stiffened around the steering wheel and in seconds, he was doing a U-turn under the streetlights. There was little on his mind as he drove way past the speed limit, cutting corners and passing cars to get there as quickly as he could.

He stopped his car next to the police barricade and got out with a shudder down his spine. Una mordidita was famous around those parts; it was the best Mexican restaurant, and it was always booked. The building itself was dedicated to the concept, and he knew the different floors could host multiple types of events. 

Yet now, it wasn’t the center of influencer buzz or a ballroom dancing event, but of chaos. Firefighters were trying to get the flames under control as even the red neon sign above the building got charred by the smoke escaping the windows. The white walls were losing their shine, and the wood decorations giving it a more Latin-American vibe had surely seen better days.

The chaos of shouts, siren lights, and people wanting to see what was happening didn’t disturb him; he had worked through similar occurrences, so he understood the professionals’ logic through the disorder. What got him running towards the Firefighter Captain handling the occurrence was something else entirely.

He smacked the Captain’s shoulder and didn’t even let him recover from the shock of seeing Yoongi there. “Is everyone out?”

The Captain regained his bearings swiftly, “Working on it.”

Yoongi knew better than to overstep, but he was unsettled. He turned to the entrance of the restaurant, where people were running down the stairs, accompanied by firefighters. He didn’t recognize a single one, and so he turned to the captain again with a stiffness in his shoulders, “You need to—”

A loud female voice shouted, and he spun to look again. The Captain’s frown was entirely lost on Yoongi when he saw you almost being dragged out of the restaurant and down the stairs by two firefighters. His feet instantly took him to you, finally allowing him to hear what you were saying.

“Un-fucking-believable!! You let it spread to the third floor?! What the fuck are you all doing?! Let me go and do your job!!”

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, noticing your bruises, cuts, and blood dripping down your temple. Your embroidery anglaise white dress fit your curves in what would have been a dreamy view if it wasn’t stained with black and red spots, letting see how you had scrapped your knees too. You were busy trying to get the firefighters to get their hands off, but they couldn’t let you go until you calmed down.

You were frantic, so you only noticed Yoongi when his hands settled on your shoulders and he spun you to face him. Your voice finally vanished as your eyes widened; finally, he could see you were shaken up under all that fierceness.

“Are you hurt?”

His tone was firm, to the point, but you squirmed, “I have to—”

“Are you hurt?” He repeated, not letting you get away.

“I’m fine!”

You tried to turn around, but he didn’t let you. He wrapped an arm around you, signaling the firefighters that he had you, then dragged you away. You squirmed and hit his chest, clawing at his arm and demanding he set you free, but he ignored you.

You thought you’d gouge his eyes out in frustration, but suddenly, he forced you to sit on a street bench across the street. He kneeled before you, but your eyes flew beyond him to the restaurant. The fire, the smoke, the people, the firefighters, and even the wreck at the back that you couldn’t see from there. The explosion had been in the kitchen, surely. You knew before any reports because that’s where you’d do it if you wanted to send a message. Easily passable as an accident, but strong enough to cause all that chaos. You ground your teeth, vexed to your core, and sprang back up. The more those idiots wasted time with—

“Sit down.”

Yoongi’s tone was incontestable as he grabbed your arms and forced you back down, and this time you faced him. He was like an apparition, crouched in front of you with his dark hair, sharp eyes, and composed demeanor that always rattled you so much. He was a sight for sore eyes, and it confused you.

“How are you here?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Did you know about this?!” You asked furiously, your anger fueled by the possibility.

But he was impassive, “Are you hurt?”

“Answer the question!”

“You’re in shock, and I need you to calm down.”

“I am fucking calm!” You roared in his face, almost jumping away. “My restaurant just fucking exploded and is on fire, don’t you fucking talk down to me!”

“I know, so calm down.”

His monotone voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m fucking calm! I need—”

He gripped your wrist and raised it before your eyes, and you jolted; your fist was shaking.

The anxiety crept up on you, and you sobbed under your breath, instantly looking at him in confusion. You were angry, ready to blow on everyone and everything, but suddenly you wanted to cry. Your fear had stayed at bay, but was ambushing you now.

You gripped his coat as you teared up, mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. You sucked anxious breaths as you looked around, conflicted between crying and telling him it was all so frightening, and getting up and making everyone work hard to save your business.

Your thoughts must have been clear in your eyes because he held you back, grounding you with enough space to let you breathe and process.

“I know. It’s a lot. I promise everyone is handling it, but you are more important.” He spoke calmly, but not condescendingly, and it only made you shake harder. “Tell me: does anything hurt?”

You pulled in a deep breath and frowned, then shook your head. A small explosion behind him drew your eyes, but he guided your chin gently so you’d face him again.

“I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to tell me if it hurts.”

You were ready to cuss him out, but as soon as he released you, you grabbed onto him desperately. There was nothing in his dark eyes as he looked up again, yet you were so embarrassed you could have died. You didn’t want to hold onto him for dear life like that, but it was stronger than you. Your lips trembled, and you suppressed your cry, unable to explain or control what was happening to you, but he had you.

He leaned into you, tugging you in with his elbows on each side of your legs, “I know, I’m here.”

Your frightened eyes showed him enough to anticipate the moment you let go of him to throw your arms around his neck and squeeze tightly. He could barely breathe, but it was secondary; he embraced you slowly, afraid to hurt you. The adrenaline running through your system changed the way you perceived pain, and he’d never risk harming you. Still, you needed to feel safe, so he held you as hard as he could safely. 

You were shaking, maybe even crying, but rightfully in his arms. Despite the chaos behind him, that was all that mattered.

He waited until you pulled away, sniffling and pulling your long hair back, embarrassed to face him. It told him the first part was over, and that now you’d be able to talk.

“We need to get you checked.”

“No,” you dismissed easily. “I only trust my people, anyway.”

He swallowed his exasperation and tried again, “But at a hospital—”

“No, just take me home.” You got up and faced the mess before you with a hard expression, catching him off guard. He got on his feet quickly, ready to try to convince you to go to the hospital anyway, but you looked at him again, “My people can meet me there, and I have calls to make.”

He observed you, clearly not convinced, but you stood your ground. You didn’t want to ask nor admit you needed him right now to feel safe and be able to look that problem in the eye. You’d soon be yourself again, and that moment of weakness was unforgivable, even more so in front of him. But as you faced him and waited for his response, you closed your fists and tried not to wobble on your heels or cry again. You had a reputation to uphold, people to manage, retaliation to prepare, and maybe your knees hurt a little bit.

“Alright.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and directed you slowly in another direction, away from it all. In other circumstances, you could have thought about the potential danger of going with him, but you dismissed those thoughts. Yoongi was your cop, even if you hadn’t seen him in months. He was there for you, and there was no judgment in his eyes.

You sat on the shotgun seat of his car and looked at your lap. The time it took him to circle the car was enough for you to chastise yourself for being so gullible.

He sat down next to you and got ready to drive, and you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Did you know about this?”

“About what?”

“About their plan.”

He glanced at you, then got the car moving, “I was driving home when I was notified of what happened and drove straight here.”

You closed your trembling hands over your lap again, uncomfortable with how relieved his words made you. Your eyes settled on the rearview mirror, where all the chaos was being left behind, and you sighed. You couldn’t let that shake you; it was just a place, a business, one of countless others. It didn’t matter that you were there, that it happened so close you were deaf from your right ear, that you could have died, that it was way too close for comfort.

He reached to grab your hand, and you looked at him again. You didn’t know what to call this or how to interpret it, but he was there. Yoongi was right there.

His perfume was all around you, and with the lull of the car, the nightly traffic, and his hand in yours, you managed to close your eyes, work through the adrenaline, and doze off.

You opened your eyes when he squeezed your hand, meeting the gate of your private property in Hannam-dong. His window was down, and your housekeeper was asking who he was.

“It’s me, Sooyong,” you raised your voice just enough.

The gate instantly opened, and you stretched lazily. You weren’t shaking anymore, and your judgment wasn’t clouded either. All in all, those thirty minutes had managed to calm you down. Of course, your knees stung, your head fucking hurt, and you would feel your left side for days since you fell on it during the explosion. But fuck, if you weren’t ready to get down to business ASAP.

You told Yoongi where to go so he could park inside your garage, then left the car swiftly before it was even off. You didn’t wait for him to follow you inside, but knew he would; instead, you handed your coat to Sooyong, nodded at your two security guards, and bent down to greet your two lovely Dobermans: Archer and Gunner.

“The medic will be here shortly, and I already asked for a preliminary report of the damage.”

Sooyong was looking at Yoongi with suspicion, but you ignored it, “Get me a phone, I need to contact Hoon Yeong.”

Your butler bowed and obeyed instantly, but Yoongi wasn’t able to think about what he was hearing. The two big goons didn’t follow Sooyong, and your dogs had turned to Yoongi the second you stopped petting them.

In another circumstance, Yoongi could have felt intimidated or at least uncomfortable by the whole situation, but not tonight. You were still bleeding, slept only ten minutes in the car, and were now getting worked up instead of resting.

So he spoke up, “You need to get checked before anything else.”

It didn’t matter that your men looked ready to beat him up or that your dogs were sniffing him too close for comfort. You glanced at him, “I’m fine.”

Then you turned and left, disappearing further inside the house.

He didn’t hesitate to follow after you, ready to insist on you taking this seriously, but he wasn’t able to. You dismissed your guards with a wave before they could grab Yoongi to drag him out, and were already pressing a phone to your ear.

He looked around your big living room, its white couches, carpets, fancy glass chandeliers falling from elevated ceilings, and matching walls adorned with expensive art. You didn’t just live lavishly; you displayed it, too.

You sat on a couch while you spoke with a hand covering your eyes, and Yoongi moved quickly to dim the lights. You were stubborn, but he wouldn’t make things harder for you.

He waited while you talked, disliking the observant butler in the corner of the room. Yes, Yoongi was listening to everything you said, but you could have easily told him to leave. So instead, he kept your two dogs busy with him and quiet while you made one call after another, holding nothing back.

“Secure all locations, increase the bouncers working tonight, and do random checks. Send someone to La Mordidita to account for all our staff, and Thoma to make a sweep before the firefighters start snooping around. I want to know what can be recovered and who the fuck dared to pull this shit off.”

“And? And the product? The insurance? Yes, indeed. Don’t move it, don’t do anything. Keep me posted.”

“Talk to me, Ulan,” you sighed, fatigued from handling multiple people. “I want to know how the fuck does anyone even plan this, and I don’t hear about it.”

You were pacing around with each call; whatever you were learning was not helping you settle. The medic arrived and asked you to sit to work on your wounds, but you were restless. You were trying to figure out who did it, and it was clear to him by the way you started shouting that your people knew and that something had failed.

The medic tried cleaning your temple wound, mentioning a concussion, but in your temper, you slapped her hand away. That was the moment Yoongi decided to intervene; he got up, waved the medic away, and took over.

You were ready to slap his hand away, too, but froze when your eyes met his. His expression was hard, saying without as much as an eyelash bat that you needed to hang up. 

You huffed your annoyance and quickly redirected your anger, “If you know, then get me something. Those bastards found out about it somehow. Get me the mole, and something that will hurt them just as badly. Weren’t they importing weapons illegally to sell to both North and South? Get me something!”

You ended the call and threw your phone to the other end of the couch.

“The fucking audacity,” you spit between gritted teeth, glaring at Yoongi. He worked fast on the wound on the side of your head, but it still stung.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it fucking hurts!”

You exploded and instantly saw the glint in his eyes. Why did he look so dazzling, taunting you like that? He did not react to your outburst whatsoever, so you rolled your eyes.

He started cleaning the cuts on your palms. “Why would they attack your restaurant?”

You gritted your teeth and waved everyone else out of the room, adding a command that guided your darling puppies to their big pillows in the corner of the room. You were annoyed with absolutely everything, and even more with the answer about to fall from your lips, “Because they knew I would go there to secure important goods.”

“Was this personal?”

You smirked bitterly, “Had to be.”

“What were the goods?”

“The product we got last time. Some of it, anyway.”

“How did they find out?”

“A mole, for certain. I moved everything across multiple locations and only disclosed today that a fraction would go to this restaurant for distribution. So unless they can read my fucking mind, they had to learn it from a fucking mole.”

“They could have just followed you if they knew you’d go personally.”

You paused and then chuckled while he prepared the gauze to clean the wounds on your knees. “But they could have attacked any of the venues I was in before, and they didn’t. They had to know what was in this one was worth destroying.” He nodded quietly, seemingly focused on getting your knees clean of debris. You hated the silence and almost growled, “But they have no fucking idea who they’re messing with.”

“No, they don’t.”

His answer was so serene, that it accentuated the silence that echoed the room. He got rid of the bloodied and dirty gauze, looking you over as though he was evaluating if anything else needed pressing attention, and it hit you. “You’re still here.”

He looked at you, “Do you know who did this?”

There was a shift in his tone that made you shudder, “The Russians.”

“Where would it hurt them?”

“Their warehouse downtown.”

“Their boss?”

“Prokhor Evgeni.”

“Where is he?”

“The Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong.”

Yoongi nodded and got up, leaving the same way he got there, and you were dumbfounded.

“Wait!” You got up, and he stopped to look at you. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

Some could say that was an abuse of power, but it was too easy.

He realized, as he drove under a sky barely blemished by the rising sun, that when the force wanted to, shit got done in a flash. They said, ‘Where there is a will, there is a way’, and he was in the unique position to have both.

He stopped in a no-parking zone in front of the Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong and made his way lazily up the stairs of the entrance. The big thugs outside didn’t phase him as he asked to speak with Prokhor Evgeni. His tone was dry and blasé, and the men’s reactions were to laugh and joke about it being almost 6 AM. The center was closed to people like him.

“Nothing is ever closed to people like me,” he found himself answering, unmoving.

He saw commotion behind the thugs, where he imagined the security booth was, and instantly relaxed. People like him didn’t have to show identification, his face was enough. He glanced at his watch as he waited, ignoring the quips of the two men, who were increasingly dumbfounded by the situation.

He understood; he would have been stupefied as well. After all, even Superintendent Generals would have security if they wanted to confront the head of a mafia at 6 AM. But as it turned out, Yoongi was feeling beside himself. It was time to start using who he was to get shit done, instead of hiding and praying someone like you could give out a hand. Not this time; it was his turn.

One of the bouncers couldn’t read the room and made a move to touch him, and Yoongi’s eyebrow almost twitched. He just needed one touch to arrest him and get a warrant. Would that be an abuse of power as well?

Fortunately for the small fry, someone from the back called out his name and reprimanded him swiftly in Russian. It was enough for Yoongi to assume everyone was on the same page, and follow when said man — a big, wide fellow with small eyeglasses — waved at him to follow.

Yoongi went up the elevator with the guy in silence, evaluating if anything still needed to be done to wrap this up, but it was just that. And a phone call.

He ignored everything he saw as he walked the corridors, from the men passing him to the gambling hastily hidden by the doors continuously closing in his wake. Finally, he arrived at the office of the big boss, judging by the cigars, wide flat screens showing multiple sports simultaneously, and the big foreigner man with much more white hair than he would have guessed, sitting behind a desk.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me,” Prokhor Evgeni laughed before the amusement dropped from his face. “But here you are. You must be lost,” he bit the cigar in his mouth, unable to hide his discomfort.

Yoongi stretched his shoulders a little bit and, on cue, his phone rang. He picked it up, “Got it.” 

He put his phone back inside his pocket, looking at Prokhor as if waiting for him to say something, which only annoyed the old thug further.

Yoongi looked around as if he had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait for you to be put in the loop.”

Prokhor smacked his hands on the desk, getting up with a shout that never came out because his phone rang as well. He sat back down, cursing under his breath, and picked it up. His gaze was venomous as he heard the caller, unable to stop Yoongi when he reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter lying on the desk.

The mob boss’ cheeks were getting redder and redder, yet Yoongi was unfazed as he lit a cigarette and took a drag that numbed his senses. He almost groaned then, holding it in for such a long time he lost track. How had he ever stayed away?

Prokhor yelled what were probably obscenities before slamming the phone on the desk, but before he could talk, Yoongi breathed, “Justice just never sleeps.” The smoke exited his parted lips slowly, and the mob boss stilled, starting to understand the situation. “We were lucky too,” he smirked, taking another drag. “Your kids still had the same materials used in the explosives in their car. Otherwise, I don’t know. We might have required a warrant to search for more potentially harmful materials. Say in the warehouse downtown where they were found lounging around smoking weed when they were arrested.”

Yoongi suppressed a smirk as he put the cigarette between his lips, and the mob boss was so red he was about to explode. He knew the kids weren’t found near his warehouse, so the implication was clear.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!”

He hissed, but Yoongi only kept smoking placidly, “Just try to poke your head out again.”

In a flash, pure anger became bewilderment in the giant’s blue eyes, “No way.” Yoongi didn’t even blink, so Prokhor scoffed, “Bitch really has the Superintendent General on a leash?”

Yoongi threw the cigarette on the garish carpet, “I like it quiet.”

He turned to leave, but Prokhor got up in a fury again, “I have people too! People who can bite your head off!”

Yoongi turned but kept walking backward, opening his arms in a momentary invitation, before leaving that place without as much as a hair out of place.

It was interesting to consider that Prokhor’s threats could hold true, but Yoongi didn’t feel minimally affected. He got inside his car to drive home and reevaluated his thought process. He and the Firefighter’s Captain had a long history, the Mayor called him for favors, and the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency still operated under his direct scrutiny. It was why puzzling the evidence from the restaurant fire had been so easy, especially given that Thoma had conveniently left the place ready for them. Yoongi assumed; he saw a man in the shadows, between the mess, and minutes later, a firefighter had found something. Interesting how explosions in rich parts of town were such a priority for the city; the division of arson investigation could take years to build a case, but tonight, a couple of hours sufficed. The Mayor saw to that as soon as Yoongi called. And the media would love that swift action, earning everyone brownie points for reelection.

Yoongi parked as he scoffed to himself; he was playing a dangerous game. He eyed his house, wondering if he should feel wary about anything happening to him, but he brushed it off. And if it did? He did what he had to do, and he’d sleep like a rock, knowing he had taken care of everything so you could finally sleep your concussion off.

He got inside his house with the first rays of morning, thanking the universe it was Saturday. But he sighed and didn’t throw his jacket too far, only on the nearest couch, before making his way to the kitchen. He would probably still work—

Something cut the corner at the same time as him but from the kitchen, and his reflex was to pull out his gun instantly, taking a step back. You were tranquil, despite the gun barrel on your face, and his eyes widened in disbelief, “Jesus fuck!”

He could barely believe it was you, with no bandages on your head and now wearing a black dress instead of white, but he still put the gun down. Or would have, but you shoved it away first, then grabbed his head to kiss him.

Instantly, he put the pistol down on a nearby counter, just in time before you pushed him back. He hit a cabinet glass door with your strength and immediately caught you when you threw yourself in his arms, frantically kissing him as if there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

His initial shock didn’t last when your taste and perfume assured him it was you, and with you, insanity was to be expected. He had nothing against you being in his house, kissing him, or coming to him in general.

But he still tried to hold you back gently so he could ask, “Shouldn’t you— be in bed— resting?”

He spoke between your hungry lips, whenever you gave him a split second, and you laughed, “Take me to bed, then.”

Your sly smile died in a small yelp when he bent down to pick you up in his arms. You held onto him silently while he carried you upstairs to his bedroom, and his ego couldn’t have been more inflated after that whole crazy night. What got him wasn’t that he managed to calm you down, met your dogs, or solved your problem by showing some mob boss how big his cock was, no. What got him hard in a split second was that little yelp and your silence as he carried you effortlessly. He might have had an office job, but he still took the time to go to the gym every day, and fuck if it wasn’t worth it.

When he put you down over the bed, he thought you’d actually want to sleep after such an exhausting night, but he should have known better. You got on your knees on the bed before he could open his mouth and started unbuttoning his shirt. His expression must have given away his thoughts because you didn’t stop, but you didn’t push him either. You waited for a clear indication that you could touch him, but didn’t hesitate to get him naked, opening every button. Then, when you pulled the shirt back over his shoulders, he grabbed your head to kiss you.

Your reaction was instant, rushing to get rid of the shirt and unbuckle his belt as he consumed your mouth eagerly. It was hard not getting distracted, especially by the way he easily pulled on your hair to keep you on your toes, but it only served to melt you. Even when he did it with a level of gentleness, careful about your injuries; something that could easily trigger you and turn you off, but tonight made you so eager to be with him, that you didn’t recognize yourself.

You moaned inside his mouth when he sucked your tongue, dizzy from the blood rushing everywhere all at once. Fortunately, you had made your way inside his pants and could anchor yourself to his cock.

It only made you groan harder as you pumped him; he couldn’t get harder than that, and your wet core would be the perfect match.

His consuming kiss along with his soft touches could have gotten you to settle and let him decide where to take this, but you knew what you wanted and your limits. You needed Yoongi like air to breathe, but you were on painkillers and exhausted. You shouldn’t have driven there in that condition, but couldn’t stop yourself. So, you pushed through his addictive, wild kisses and pulled his pants and underwear down, hinting at him to strip fully.

He did so in a heartbeat, falling over you so quickly you didn’t see it coming. Accommodating him over you between your parted legs was everything you wanted, so you sighed into his returning mouth, clawing at his back so he’d come closer. His lips soon made a detour to your neck, and you were overrun by shivers, almost pleading his name with how much you were dying to feel him.

But as he made his way down to your chest, you pushed through your cloudy, horny judgment. You pushed him by the shoulders and got on top of him, straddling him easily. His head fell over the pillow, dark hair contrasting with the white as his equally dark eyes observed you. They were glistening, hungry, but the hands on your hips were patient, and controlled. Min Yoongi wanted to ravish you, but for you, he’d give you the lead. You almost teased him about it, but there was no time to waste.

You had never seen him naked, so you weren’t shy about looking; quickly, but still. You touched every scar you could see — on his left shoulder, under his ribs, on the side of his waist, wondering how he had gotten injured and if it had hurt. Your lips followed suit, lingering over his skin while you sniffed his scent on your way to an untamed delicacy.

You only nuzzled him for a second before starting to lick his balls greedily, and he groaned, “You don’t have to.”

You smirked, laughing with yourself — as if you’d miss the opportunity. “I want to.”

It would be wrong to say you drove across town in that state to give head to Min Yoongi, but it was close to the truth. In your plans, you spent more time working him up — kissing him, dry humping, maybe even twisting those pretty nipples — before reaching his balls and preparing him to give you cum all night long.

But the fucking concussion and pain and tiredness or whatever. It irritated you, your knees hurt, and your head was spinning, and not necessarily from his luscious scent or your insane lust. So, unfortunately, you had to cut to the chase.

Just licking the tip of his dick wasn’t enough; not for you, and not for him. You wanted the thick mushroom tip between your lips, and the guttural groan he let out once you sucked broke the dam for you.

You licked and drooled all over him, bobbing your head to get him further and further inside you with greed that bordered on obsession. The more your jaw slacked, and his taste flooded your mouth, the more you needed to feel him pressing, invading, reaching inside you. His groans matched your moans, his fists around the sheets mimicked your hands holding his hips, and the desperation of his hips, moving to match your head falling on him, almost fulfilled your need.

Until you realized that wouldn’t do. Your wet cunt was throbbing slick, desperate with your need, and you were selfish. You wanted him to bust his nut down your throat, but fuck; you wanted to ride him more.

The drool that fell all over his hard, red shaft was almost embarrassing, but you didn’t waste time licking it. You got off him to slide your underwear off, your eyes never abandoning his, and so you didn’t miss him looking at you with a glint of despair in his eyes.

“I think I wouldn’t have lasted five more seconds.”

You grinned at his confession and got back on him, throwing your dress around so you could align him with your slit, “Good.” You felt the tip of his cock, and so did he, because he gripped your hips as if to stop you. “You better hold it.”

His dark eyes showed a hint of torture, but you were not sympathetic. You pressed yourself down on him, rolling your hips to get him coated in you, forcibly stretching you, making you keen so ecstatically, that you threw your head back. If his thick cock tucked inside you wasn’t enough, then the groans out of his mouth, with gritted teeth and a frown, in deep concentration, would take the cake. You rolled your hips further, slowly in wide movements, seeing every line in his face contorting or twitching under your sweet torture, his strength slowly leaving him as he fought tooth and nail not to come so soon. 

“Your— Your knees—”

You smirked, oblivious about your bandaged knees at that moment. “Shut up, just let me ride you.”

His nails pierced your skin at the hips around your garter, and you moaned approvingly. Just looking at him, the blood rushed to your cheeks, the temperature rising immediately in a heatwave through your body. Every grunt of his was fuel; you couldn’t stop moving, dragging his thick cock across your walls so it could disappear deep inside you and torture him some more. And you, because the more he resisted, the more you wanted it, and the more it got to you too.

You knew you’d come pathetically quick but didn’t imagine it would be this fast. The pleasure burning through you was so overwhelming and undeniable, that soon you were riding him hungrily, not to torture him, but to come with him. He noticed it somehow because he started helping you, meeting you with short thrusts upwards that set your body on fire. You wanted him so fucking bad that leaning over his chest to kiss him before you came became your final act, and you crashed.

Your mouth pressed to his with a shaky moan from deep inside your chest, and he held the back of your head, keeping you in place. He fucked you through your orgasm, your throbbing so intense around him, it took him seconds to spill inside you; to groan into your mouth as he pressed you down, burying his cock as deep as he could.

Feeling him coming was such a delight, you grinned. The silence was cut by your chuckle seconds later, and even when he bit your cheek, you didn’t come down from cloud nine.

[awhoreintheory]

(different anon) another angst idea :D Peter seeing his uncle using a gun, a weapon he despises because it so easily took away his uncle's life and destroyed his world

It will probably cause conflicted feelings for Peter

Also welcome!! Thank you for the ask :) I hope I did it justice <33

Peter won't lie. He may have gotten... attached.

Ok, ok, it sounds like a recipe for disaster. Spending time with his not-uncle from another universe? Definitely not what Mr. Falcon would've recommended, but it was actually really... nice.

He— Jason, not Benjamin here— was so like his Uncle Ben. The way he spoke, the way he laughed, even down to his reading taste. But he was so different, too. He carried himself with caution, he had more scars, his mannerisms were just slightly off, and doesn't talk about family. Ever.

Uncle Ben had loved his family so much.

His uncle had been a firefighter, then when he retired he became a police officer. He was a good man who wanted to give back to his community.

Jason wasn't a firefighter or a police officer. He said he handled real estate, and that's why he had so many apartment buildings. But, unfortunately for Jason, Peter wasn't born yesterday.

Jason was still a good man, and he did good, just... not in the same way as Uncle Ben. Peter assumed he was running with that crime lord, Red Hood. In Peter's opinion, he sounded a little scary. Who wouldn't think that when he first appeared with the flourish of eight severed heads?

But the Red Hood guy (crime lord? Anti hero? Vigilante?) Also actively tried to help Crime Alley— where Peter was currently squatting, so he consequently cared for.

Peter trailed behind Uncle— Jason, just Jason. His spidey sense adored the guy, and he knew all the cheapest places to get groceries. Also, everyone steers clear of him. No one's ever so much as attempted to mug him, which is a genuine accomplishment in this place.

"So, how long are you plannin' to follow me, kiddo?" Jason asked around a smirk, turning around just as Peter lost his cover.

Seriously, how does this guy do that??

Peter gave an exaggerated frown, running to catch up with Jason's long strides. "Seriously, how do you do that?? Are you sure you're a normal guy?" Peter gave a skeptical look, but fell into step with with his not-uncle.

"You follow me every Saturday. Are you sure you're a normal kid?" Jason gave him a skeptical look back, but otherwise slowed down for Peter.

"Hey! You always find the best prices for groceries, I need your tutelage." Peter gave a small, teasing grin. It really was like arguing with his uncle.

Jason reached out, ruffling Peter's hair. Peter batted him away, sticking his tongue out. "Ok, but in return, I need some help with my computer. It ain't workin' again. I'll pay ya'."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You're seriosuly terrible with tech." Just like his uncle.

Jason swatted at him playfully.

Peter wasn't sure if, or how, Jason knew he was homeless, but he always helped him buy non perishables that didn't need a refrigerator or to be cooked. He was thoughtful like his uncle, in that regard.

It was... nice. Being able to shop with his Uncle. Or, well, Jason. (He really needed to start enforcing that distinction before it backfired on him.) Aunt May had been a terrible cook, so Uncle Ben did most of the cooking. He taught Peter most of everything he knew, too.

Peter thanked his uncle Jason for the help shyly, promising to make it up to him by fixing his computer for free. (Jason never let him do it for free.)

Jason watched the new Alley kid, Peter Parker, walk away. From what he'd heard, he was a skittish teen who knew his way around the shadows. A little naive, but otherwise he held his own. And, for some ungodly reason, he'd taken a shine to Jason. Not Red Hood, not Jason Todd-Wayne, just Jason the apartment guy who knew where all the good sales were.

Peter looked at him sometimes like he hung the moon, and other times with bitter nostalgia. He was about 94% sure Peter was an orphan, so maybe Jadon reminded him of a parent? Or at least someone who wasn't around anymore. It was hard to tell, with how the kids had no records, and getting him to talk about his past was like pulling teeth out of a Super.

Jason let Peter turn the corner before he started to follow. Ducking into alleys and staying a healthy distance away, Jason just wanted to make sure the Kid got back to his squat ok.

Except, just a couple minutes from where Peter was staying, he was suddenly dragged into an alley. No one looked or noticed, but Jason did.

Jason did, and he was fucking pissed.

Grabbing his spare gun, Jason rushed to help his kid Peter.

—

Peter was getting mugged for his groceries. Which wasn't desirable, as his stomach was an endless pit the consumed enough for a family of six, so he was ready to knock a guy out then head back to his place.

Except... then his uncle came rushing in, telling the man to "get the fuck away before you get hurt".

His Uncle always came rushing in like this in his nightmares. Unarmed and with that limp he got from a burning beam falling on him with he was younger and a firefighter. He would rush in, yelling and unarmed, trying to save his dumbass nephew from getting shot.

He would always get shot, he'd fall, the mugger would run away, and he'd bleed out in Peter's arms.

It was his nightmare that repeated every so often, typically joined with a nightmare about May and Tony's death, too.

Except this time... his uncle had the gun.

Jason had the gun.

"I said, back the fuck away before I blow your brains out." Jason snarled, his finger flexing over the trigger in warning.

Peter stared, his mouth filling with cotton and everything going mute.

His uncle was pointing a gun at someone, ready to shoot.

His uncle was holding the thing that killed him.

Peter felt ready to throw up.

The would-be-robber dropped his knife, running away. But Peter's eyes never left his uncles hands, in the smooth and familiar way he operated the gun. How ready he was to shoot someone with it.

Its not... Peter knows, second amendment and all. It's a person's right to own a gun. It should be for protection, but it could just as easily end someone's life.

It ended his uncles.

As a police officer, sure he owned a gun, but it was always kept firmly locked up. He'd never even seen his uncle in the same room as a gun, much less holding one.

It was wrong.

"Pete, hey hey, you're ok, Peter?" His uncle kneeled in front of Peter. When had he ended up on the ground?

He continued to stare at the gun. His uncle took the hint and tucked it away with a practiced motion.

Peter's eyes watered, and he leaned over, expelling the hot dog his uncle bought him earlier. His uncle rubbed his back as he threw up, comforting him, albeit a little awkwardly.

When Peter looked back up, he saw his uncles blue— green eyes, his white and black hair, and the unfamiliar 'J' shaped scar marring his cheek, and remembered.

'This isn't my uncle.'

'This isn't my home.'

And the worst part? He felt sadder about his uncle than his home.

He had nothing to go back to, after all.

[eclipsedrgn]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝑩𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅

(y/n) befriended the turtles along with her best friend ren. she didn't have anything to offer the family of ninjas, except her friendship and love. and when she realizes she's just pulling them back, she decided to take it to her own hands.

rottmnt!leo x fem!reader

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

It wasn't until you notice they started acting differently around you when you had a feeling they're starting to pull apart. All four turtles, each in their own unique way, rejected you. Either hanging out, or eating out to even going on patrol together. You didn't exactly offer a lot on the table if you were being honest. You were just the lucky girl who they rescued, and somehow became part of this mischivious family.

Mikey became your closest friend, you two were too much a like whether it was being completely naive to the world to being the most childish person of the group. The two of you never felt judged by one another.

Donnie, embarrissingly, became your buddy when it came to doing your homework. You did all the work of course, you hated cheating but Donnie was the one looking over your shoulder half of the time telling you from right and wrong.

Raph was coincidentally your therapist, although you mostly smile around the turtles, Raph knew the signs of depression and anxiety, most importantly anger. He saw how much anger you hold within yourself that he took upon himself to help you.

Leonardo...

To you, in your eyes, he was everything. He was the perfect turtle for you and could not stop yourself for falling in love with him. He was your everything, you were willing to even make yourself unhappy just to get his attention...

But you knew with the way he looks at Karai, it wouldn't happen.

You guess it was probably the way you let yourself loose. You ate too much pizza with Mikey, you barely exercise, or maybe how you just chilled on the couch for the longest time. The turtles noticed.

But they did not care.

And that's how you ended up in this situation, hiding behind the walls of the kitchen eavesdropping the turtle's conversation about you. Worst of all, your best friend Ren just sat there listening to them, though you didn't see her face, she was devastated that the turtles thought of you this way.

"Come on Leo, are we seriously letting this girl stay with us?" Raphael states with an annoyed tone. "She has done nothing but sit here with her thumbs up her nose"

Was all the times you come to Raph about your problems fake? Did you complain too much?

"We can't just kick her out Raph-" Donatello started but was interrupted.

"We can and we will. She eats all the food, she plays all the games while we're up there risking our lives" Raph complains.

"Dude... she's my best friend" Mikey muttered, nobody heard.

"She doesn't bring anything to the table! April does the news, Casey's a police officer- hell even Ren brings us notices about the Foot. (Y/N) does nothing" Raph says.

You are nothing.

A burden.

Leo shook his head, the warm feeling at the thought of you turned guilt, anger, confused. He knew his brothers were right. You didn't bring much to the table. But how can he kick out the only person who brought joy and compassion, no matter what the atmosphere of the lair is.

You clench both of your fists as tears stream down your face, you covered your mouth with both hands as another sob was coming. Leo barely stood up for you, Donnie barely stood up for you and Mikey... all he did was sat in silence. You wiped your face with your hands, getting rid of signs you were crying and came out of the kitchen with a smile on your face.

"Hey guys, I'm headed out for some pizza. Want anything?" you asked.

"J-Just some Hawaiian dudette" Mikey says with an unsure look on his face.

You smiled, "Sure Mikestar, I'll be back in a few"

"At least she brings us food" you hear Raphael scoff as you walk further from the lair.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You barely looked where you were headed, you were just walking aimlessly for the past 20 minutes since you left. The depression was getting worst, your anxiety is off the roof and the fact the only people who truly liked you has been faking all this time...

You sighed as you yelp when you bumped into something... soft? You opened your (e/c) eyes seeing the father of the four turtles. You forgot Splinter likes to take walks around the sewer twice a day, curing boredom he said when you asked him once.

"My child, were you crying?" Splinter asks.

You sniffled and shook your head, "Allergies, Sensei"

"I can tell in your eyes you are lying. Tell me, what's going on?"

And so you did.

You snitched.

You told him how the turtles hurt you. How they didn't know you've listened to their cruel words.

The look on Splinter's eyes slowly dimmed, his sons, were not nice towards you?

"I'm gonna leave" you decided, Splinter looks up surprised you even claimed such decision. "I can't spend the rest of my life being a burden to everyone. I need a change of pace, I need to leave New York City"

Splinter sighs, "I cannot change your mind. But I do have an offer for you. My Master Yoshi has a friend in Japan called the Ancient One, fly there and tell him Splinter sent you. Tell him your desire to change, he will help you"

Your eyes became misty as tears started to gather, you hugged Splinter tightly and then came up with a plan. The turtles need to know how much you've been hurting, you became a little bit of a bad person.

That night you came back home, calling your tech friend to fake a news, hacking into the lair's tech and played the news.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"We interrupt this program for some breaking news."

Leo paused sharpening his katana as the news blared on, Raph paused his benching, Donnie came out of his lab and Mikey stared blankly at the TV.

"(Y/N) (L/n) was found dead in her apartment at 21:34, her cause of death is currently unknown."

"No" Leo gasps his eyes widening, the brothers followed, Mikey gagged sprinting towards the bathroom. Leo watches at the apartment building you once live in, burst into flames, the firefighters rushing to put it out.

"Firefighters rush to stop the fire but it is all too late. The body was found with burned beyond recognition and the police have ordered an autopsy... Stay tune for further news"

"She never came back" Mikey croaked, leaning against the door frame. "She went out for pizza and never came back"

"S-She must've went to get more money, went home and then boom" Donnie says rushing towards his computers for answers.

Leo slammed his katana against the ground he was sitting on so hard, it broke into two pieces. He stood facing his hotheaded brother with a menacing look in his eyes.

"Are you happy now?" Leo sharply asked. "You asked for her gone right! You told us, to kick her out right! Well here you go Raphael. She's gone. For good"

"I-I never meant-"

"You knew she was depressed, you knew she fighting on... Raph, you have no idea!" Leo yells.

"BOYS!" the four flinch at their father's tone.

Splinter...

What're they going to tell him?

"What is going on here?" Splinter demands.

"(Y/N)'s dead" Mikey says voice cracking as the tears finally streamed down his face. "She's dead and its all our fault"

"Mikey..." Donnie says comforting his baby brother. "We should've helped sensei... but we... we didn't"

"5 times" Leo says confusing the others. "I saved her 5 times and this time, I couldn't"

"Leonardo..." Splinter sadly said.

Leo shook his head and walked away, the others slowly went their own way to grieve.

Splinter stood there with one though, he hopes you know what you need to do.

[lifeiskentastic]

Ken flirts (albeit not very successfully) with a officer gn!Reader

Gif by jokerous

A/n: I want to say in advance that if I don't respond to your replies, it's only because this is my side blog and I still haven't figured out how to make it the main blog ;( and English is still my second language so be sure to let me know about my mistakes!

Summary: Ken shows up at the police station again, but this time he has a much more complicated reason for being there;

Song I recommended: Santa Monica by Everclear (although it's not really suitable for fanfic, the song and lyrics were just made for Ken);

Word count: 1,107 words;

Hope you like it!

You've interrogated all sorts of weirdos during your long career as a police investigator. But such a case was certainly the first of its kind. And probably the only one. In front of you sat a not at all embarrassed man in the uniform of a horse rider, that is, in a ridiculous oval hat, a black suit, only horse was. What was the main problem. After all, walking in such clothes in public places and even without a horse is not to everyone's liking. In addition, if it is stolen. Although most of the townspeople have already managed to get used to it since this same man and his companion appeared here for the first time. However, this case was different, as today he came alone. That's why they didn't let him home right away, but sent you to deal with it.

"So Mr. Ken…" You looked at the man who wasn't the least bit concerned about being in the police station, not knowing what you were going to do with him.

"Oh yeah, it's me."

"Um, why did you steal that suit?" You mentally slapped yourself on the forehead for asking such a stupid and obvious question. It's like asking a criminal why he committed a crime... Damn.

Ken was smiling brightly, only making you despair even more. "You see, I just don't have anything to pay yet… But I'll pay it all back very soon! Yes…" But you wouldn't tell that from his unsure and guilty face.

"I'm sorry, mister, but in our town promises aren't enough." For some reason it was difficult for you to say this. Maybe you just couldn't resist the person's naive sincerity in front of you.

"Okay, I'll give you one last warning in hopes that I won't find you in a stolen suit in the middle of a police station again, okay?" Ken shook his head.

"Well, officer, I promise, it won't happen again!"

"Eh, I hope so…"

To tell the truth, this was not the first such "last" warning, but... But sometimes it is worth making exceptions to the rules and protocols for the sake of a good cause.

"Um, officer?" You were about to walk out of the interrogation room and just pretend you didn't see the criminal leaving the police station without punishment. But Ken stopped you with his strangely needy look. "Actually, I just wanted to meet you again."

You were once again surprised by the frankness of this man. And ignorance.

"You could just walk in here, you don't have to commit a robbery."

"Oh."

For a moment you stared into each other's eyes in inexplicable silence until you remembered in time that Ken was a little out of this world. But you didn't know yet whether in a physical or mental sense.

Ken's expression lost its former fervor for a moment, causing you to feel a sharp pang of guilt. So you decided to somehow cheer him up.

"Anyway, I'm very flattered that you went through such troubles for me." You pointed out Ken's appearance, and he immediately melted with pride. "Good job."

You chuckled amicably, but immediately after that you suddenly remembered that you were still wearing your police badge and had some responsibilities, so you improved to add:

"But anyway, don't do that again!"

"Haha, not going to anymore, don't worry officer."

And silence reigned again, although this time it was filled with your mutual smiles. Incredible, but even criminals can be cute.

Ken began to glare at you, to which you could only respond with confusion. This careful look confused you a little, so you decided to find out the reason for it directly.

"Is something wrong Ken?" Ken squinted and something in his sly expression seemed to warn you of danger...

"You are beautiful."

You blinked, slightly not expecting such an answer to the question about feelings.

"Um, thanks… You're in good shape too." Ken assumed a very strange pose that you could describe as flirtatious if he wasn't the weird stranger. After all, how could he flirt with you? It seemed as if the roles of the policeman and the culprit were somehow unfairly reversed between you...

Ken folded his arms on the table, looking at you with all possible attention. Because of which you imperceptibly shuddered. A very strange feeling welled up as you stared into those crystal blue eyes in return. And Ken's smile might seem innocent and naive, but as an experienced police officer you couldn't afford to be fooled by that…

Your palms also rested safely on the table, and the undisguised slyness with which Ken was looking at them could not be ignored... After that, Ken lightly touched his soft fingers to yours, as if by accident, but you could definitely tell from his satisfied face that this was exactly what he intended. But you have not removed your hands in any way. Even if these touches did not seem only friendly.

Ken's whole look (minus the costume ) was like... Head over heels in love? You tried to drive away these insolent thoughts, but the affectionate look fixed on you as if he was completely devoted only to you, the barely noticeable movements of his fingers on your palms and the atmosphere of privacy created by him did not give you peace. And when did everything get so fast?

"You know, I've always wanted to try on an officer's uniform, although I'm pretty sure it looks better on you."

Well, even if it was a sincere and deliberate flirtation, it was so incredibly unfussy and simple that it couldn't help but be touching. If everyone in Ken's world is so nice and unassuming, then this place is clearly Heaven.

"Hmm, thanks again and… And I'm also pretty sure that the uniform will fit you."

You didn't know what Ken was playing, but you decided to keep up with him. It seems that a real battle was brewing here...

"Are you busy tonight?"

It confused you a little. Somehow unexpectedly, too sharply and in general, such purely friendly invitations are not made with such a flirtatious tone!..

"No. Not at all. Do you want to meet?..."

But your tongue had already given away all your innermost thoughts before you had time to really think them through.

Ken looked as if he had already expected a refusal, but when he heard the unequivocal agreement... Well, sparks flew from him. Literally. However, you were sure that this only seemed to you.

"So, at the beach today?"

"I will wait for you!"

[paintthetownblack]

Shadows of that Night

Eric x reader

Part I ; Part II ; Part III ; Part IV

The final plot is set in motion. There's femoral artery feeding, and some action.

Spoilers for season 7.

Warning, this does contain graphic descriptions of violence.

-

"Fuck." Pam breathed out, as though she could have killed the sheriff right then, on principle. I found myself mirroring the sentiment. It may have been naive of me, most likely had been, but I had felt we were on the brink of a breakthrough, her and I. I had never felt our connection stronger, than when I glimpsed that newspaper page in her mind. If only I could have clung onto her for a few more seconds, she might have sensed my lack of ulterior motives. Not that I didn't understand why she was cautious the way she was. She had spent most of a very long century running from some authority or other, protecting herself and Eric from the reach of whatever establishment, human, vampire, both, and, just when they had found stability, I had entered the picture.

And Eric's interest in me only complicated matters, affection being equal to vulnerability in their world.

I was watching them flank the desk, Eric, lounging with his feet up at the far end, and Pam, closer to me, leaning sternly with her arms crossed. They were falling back into their work dynamic, without even realizing it. Even when at odds with each other, they instinctively formed a united front, and a stunning front, at that, both blonde and tall, and pale, dressed in all black. And, then, the police siren. They looked at each other first, and seemed to know exactly how to proceed.

Eric stood up from the desk, touching Pam's shoulder, as he passed her, he leaned towards me, to tell me to stay back, voice quiet, then he went out front, by himself.

"Are you gonna let him deal with it alone?"

"He's not alone." She realized I wasn't half the telepath she worried I was, and that I needed further explanation. "I am back up."

"And what am I?"

"A problem." That sing song voice of irony she loved to use on me.

The sheriff sounded uncomfortable, even through the door, I could tell. He wasn't fond of vampires, but he was even less fond of conducting investigative work on their grounds. He was following up on a missing person's report. And Eric went abruptly silent, having heard that.

Pam stopped the indignated look she was giving me for having to lean against the door to hear, unlike herself, and she motioned for me to step towards her. I did, and was glad I had, because the door opened a second later, and Eric, looking whiter than usual, leaned into the room.

"It's to do with you." He took my arm and pulled me through the door. "I believe the woman you are looking for, sheriff, is right here, our newest bartender. You can see she is unharmed, we, here, at Fangtasia, believe wholeheartedly in the value of human life." Eric put on a big PR smile and presented me towards the sheriff, as one pushes a shy kid onto the stage, for the school play.

"I will need to see some ID." Bellefleur declared, seeing I matched his low quality picture, which was grainier for having been printed out across a whole sheet of copy paper.

My eyes met Eric's, as he was still playing the role of friendly vampire CEO, he shared my concern. My ID was with them, and he had to figure out how to make what was, in essence, a vampire hostage situation, not look like a vampire hostage situation. Bellefleur wasn't a very sharp man, but he had good instincts, and they perked up at our exchange of glances. He crossed his arms and stepped his feet further apart, presumably to take up more space, but he was still shorter than Eric, and height wasn't even a factor that could resolve this tension.

This had, somehow, been Pam's cue. She stepped forth from the office, holding my ID "Sheriff, I'm afraid it was with me. Tax purposes." She also smiled widely and disturbingly.

"Isn't it a little late for accounting?" His raspy voice clocked.

"We're vampires." Her smile died completely, as she felt no need to put in effort, in the presence of seeming incompetence.

"Right." The sheriff took half a step back, and looked at the piece of plastic for longer than necessary.

"Fine... this is all in order." He handed it back to me. "Are you" he was at a loss for words "as you folks say... here under no duress and of your own freewill?" I think he was quoting Dracula.

"Yes."

He squinted at me "Fine, so be it. I still need you to come to the station and give statements. Now, if we drive out to Bon Temps right now, you will all be back in time, before sun up, no issues."

"Is that necessary?" Eric sighed, the PR smile still going strong, but wearing off more and more around the eyes.

"It would be much appreciated."

"And we love to be of service." He placed a hand to my back and led me to the exit.

Pam followed "I love abiding by human law." She snickered at the sheriff, who understood the statement for exactly what it was, and shook his head.

The sheriff's car was unlocked. Eric held the door open, as I got in, but Pam refused the courtesy and insisted she would not sit next to me, so Eric had to be squeezed into the middle. He sat with his long legs bent almost up to his chest. Pam enjoyed this greatly, and gave her first genuine smile of the evening.

Two vampires and a vampire telepath, driving in the back of a police car. It sounded like the set up of the century. It goes to show how important vampire-human coexistence had become to Eric, and to the vampire community at large. Though the dead-ness of his expression, for lack of a better word, wasn't giving that impression.

I couldn't help, but run my fingers along his hand, which brought his sense of humor back to him. He lightened up. Pam observed the gesture, and took Eric's other hand, batting her eyelashes rapidly, and tilting her head, like a mockery of a school girl with a crush. Evidently, that was how she saw me.

We were, for all intents and purposes, school children, fooling around, behind the sheriff's back. Literally.

Upon arriving at the station, we found no one else on duty, and the door was locked behind us. We were lead into the sheriff's office, where he offered the seat opposite his to Eric, and pointed Pamela and me to a tiny room at the back of his office, the doorway perfectly aligned with his desk.

Eric complied and made himself comfortable, stretching his legs and folding his hands on his lap. Why was I so interested in observing power postures this night? Maybe because they happened to be on display in front of me.

Whatever was transpiring between Eric and Sheriff Bellefleur was child's play compared to the tension between me and Pam, in the converted coat closet, which tried to be a waiting area. Three plastic chairs barely managed to be squeezed in, backed against each of the available walls, after the door had been removed, but at least there was a window.

We sat next to each other, engaged in a silent agreement to not let our knees touch, which was not easy in the space available.

Eric was being questioned only feet from us. Bellefleur had an especially difficult time, as Pam was sat so perfectly in the open doorway of the closet. She could face him directly, peer into his soul all she wanted with her icy blue gaze. Eric leaned in his chair, off to the side, to allow Pam's eye contact to rattle the sheriff freely. And he was rattled. His words came at long intervals, and drew out at the end.

The line of questioning was basic, sterile and procedural. "Where were you when..." when I was last reported seen in Georgia, when I was last reported seen in Bon Temps, etc. Between Bellefleur's drawn out words, southern drawl and raspy voice, and Eric's steady answers of "to ground" for day time intervals, and "at Fangtasia" for night time intervals, I was almost drowsing off. There seemed to be no agenda, just standard police bureaucracy. I felt we were safe. Safe, at least, from the erratic behavior the sheriff had been known for once, as was rumored around town.

The silence had practically rung from the corridors of the station during this time. But then the loud noise of broken glass jolted all of us out of our complacency. The sheriff drew his gun too slowly, and was taken down by what looked like a tranquilizer dart, coming from outside my and Pam's field of vision. At the same time, a fine silver net was cast around Eric. We could hear how it burned into his skin, as he knelt down.

Pam would have attacked, but I grabbed her just in time. I don't have an explanation for how I was able to restrain her, but I did make my case swiftly. "They'll just capture you too, you have a better chance of helping him, if you're free." I glanced at the high window to her right. The look on her face was difficult to witness. She was angry, and distressed, it wasn't like the two of them to run from a fight. But she did it, she lifted herself up to the frame of the window, and prepared to jump. "I'll be with him."

"A lot of good that does." And she was gone. I walked out of the closet, with my hands up, hoping I wouldn't get shot.

I was immediately taken on by two very sharp looking men in black suits, as two others were keeping my vampire overlord. Eric looked bad, as it was, silver burning into his skin, he was weakened and he was in pain, but seeing me there in custody added an unforeseeable amount of fuel to the fire. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, he was furious. Probably with me as well.

We were shoved into the back of a van, and a pair of silver handcuffs was thrown at my feet. "Put them on him." An eerily calm tone of voice commanded me, and I couldn't see a thing outside the door, because of three bright flashlights aimed at our eyes.

I looked at Eric, there was too much going on in both of our minds, to disentangle the full meaning of his expression. "It's alright." He whispered to me.

I sat down next to him and tried to separate the net from between his fingers. There was skin coming off with the silver, and I could barely look.

"Faster." The direction came just as emotionlessly as before. My hands were starting to shake, Eric gave me a nod, exhausted though he was, he was trying to encourage me. I put the handcuffs on him, finally. I was closing them around raw flesh. I couldn't believe his resilience or my own. I was told to retrieve the net and hand it back. I knew that would be a relief to him, but that it would have to inflict even more pain first. My hands were barely my own anymore, I was numb, and I was on autopilot, so I did it, and the doors were shut and locked. We soon started to move.

"How could you be so stupid?" He gathered his strenght to whisper with sufficient resonance to make me shake harder than I already was.

"I couldn't just leave you alone." I whispered back, I couldn't have conjured up a stronger tone, if I had tried.

"And why not? What good are you in here?" His voice was stronger.

I, however, was still barely whispering, my breath was getting more uneven, rather than less. "I convinced Pam to run. She is a better resource than I would have been."

"I don't think you realize just how fallible you are."

"I am not afraid." But I couldn't catch my breath either, it was not a very convincing plight.

"If that were true." His eyes were so intense, I very much wanted to look away, but I couldn't. "it would be extremely stupid. But I can hear your pulse. You are scared out of your mind."

"Doesn't mean I didn't do the right thing."

He closed his eyes, his hands were tied, in more ways than one. He was reaching the peak of exasperation, but I was still confident in my course of action, even if my body seemed to want to implode from panic.

"I think you need more blood."

"You are in no position to make judgments. Listen to me. From now on, every time you want to start thinking, you run it by me first." He was resting his head against the wall of the van, and wincing. The lines of his face were made harsher by the overhead car light.

"You look horrible."

"You're one to talk?"

"Does it hurt?"

"What, the healing or the silver?" I hadn't realized until then that healing would be painful for vampires. And I think that receiving the notion made my face grave, because, beyond that point, he dropped the resentment from his voice. "Both. But don't worry, it'll be over soon."

"It won't be, though." I stood up. The desire to be doing something, anything at all, besides waiting, and the desire to ease his pain pushed me to be a bolder version of myself. Seeing him that way made my insides squirm. "The femoral artery flows more freely, right?"

I placed my hands on the van wall, and leaned my leg over his shoulder. This wasn't easy for him to withstand, but it would make him better. I tugged my skirt up, and saw his fangs come out. "You don't have to do this." He seemed too stunned to say anything else. He must not have been used to being offered help.

"But I want to."

He looked up at me, as he sank his fangs into my skin. The sounds of the road faded, there was nothing else besides Eric and his fangs in my inner thigh. It was like a psychic space that I entered when he fed on me, and there was nothing in it, so my mind could relax. Then, when he pulled away and I came down, it would be his thoughts that would flood in, before my own. With that, my panic died out, and I was able to steady my heart.

I sat down, the little blood that was running down from the wound, hardly an afterthought.

I saw he was already healing, he looked a lot more comfortable, as well, apart from the handcuffs. I could touch him again, and I held his face. He turned his head and kissed my palm, once his fangs retracted. There was so much tenderness to him. Meanwhile, the image he liked to project was so coarse. I understood why. I just wished the latter wouldn't spoil the former so often.

He was thinking about Pamela, about the night he made her vampire. I had always imagined he had been the one to initiate it. But it figures, the only way to get under Eric Northman's skin is with a sledgehammer, which is to say through extreme measures.

And then my mind found Pam's. She was in a field, somewhere, by the Bon Temps city limits, masking her fear with anger, as she is one to do. Hands on her hips, cursing. Cursing me, Eric, the sheriff's department, the sheriff, Bon Temps, Sookie, fairies, the Queen of Louisiana, it was a mouthful, but it was testament to the urgency with which she was thinking.

Images were firing very rapidly, all the culprits coming together, trailing a chronological line, all the way back to the dark ages, at one point. Godric and Nora were to blame, apparently, for leaving Eric disenfranchised and thus seeking relationships with humans, and then it circled back to me again. I was a tender topic.

Yet, I was extremely grateful for this glimpse. For one, it meant rescue was coming, and, secondly, it meant I had the fire of Pam's personality near me, and I needed fire.

Part VI

[readyforevolution]

"I walked into restaurants and they would point at me and say ‘The (N-word) can’t eat here.’ I would go to a hotel and they would say ‘The (N-word) can’t stay here.’ We want to Charlie Finley’s country club for a welcome home dinner, and they pointed me out with the N-word, ‘he can’t come in here.’ Finley marched the whole team out. Finally, they let me in. He had said ‘We’re gonna go to a diner and eat hamburgers; we’ll go where we’re wanted.'

“I slept on their couch (Rudi and his wife) four nights a week for about a month and a half,” Jackson said. “Finally, they were threatened that they’d burn the apartment complex down unless I got out. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Jackson’s response to the one question lasted more than three minutes.

No one on the Fox set interrupted him.

No producer screamed into a headset trying to stop him.

“I really didn’t think it would get as much attention as it has gotten,’’ Jackson told USA TODAY Sports after the game, “but as much response as it generated, I didn’t get one negative response. Not one.

“I didn’t know Alex would ask me that question, but I’m glad they gave me a chance to respond.

“I’m glad people listened."

Reggie Jackson

Loud. And clear.

Really, the oddest reaction was from America itself.

Folks acted as if they were shocked this was happening 50 years ago and not centuries ago.

Wake up.

It was in the ’80s when Al Campanis, general manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers, uttered on national TV that Blacks lacked “the necessities" to be general managers or managers in the game.

It was in the early ’90s in Los Angeles when Rodney King was brutally beaten by police officers on the city streets and every officer was acquitted.

It was in the mid-’90s in Vero Beach, Florida, when an apartment complex refused to allow a reporter’s two black children to swim in its community swimming pool.

It was in the past five years that George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis, Breonna Taylor was shot and killed in her bedroom in Louisville, and Ahmaud Arbery was murdered jogging in Georgia.

So, really, we’re shocked that Jackson couldn’t eat in restaurants, sleep in hotels and hang in country clubs with his white teammates 57 years ago?

Welcome to America.

Racism still flourishes in this country, but the only difference, as Hank Aaron once told me, “the difference back then is that they had hoods. Now, they have neckties and starched shirts."

“In the South," Jackson said, “you knew they didn’t like you. You knew they didn't want you. They didn’t hide it."

Now, racism may not be as overt, but as Jackson reminded the country this week, don’t be naive to think it has gone away, or even greatly diminished.

Oh, and just in case you needed a reminder, there are only two Black managers in baseball, one Black general manager and there still has never been a majority Black owner. Jackson said Saturday he still is incensed the he was denied the opportunity to bid on the Oakland Athletics in 2005 when it was sold to John Fisher.

So, you really believe things have changed?

“I am glad,’’ Jackson said, “that I said what I did. It needed to be said."

And repeated over and over again.

[nixie-writes]

I love love love that trope where a normally gentle/sweet character does a 180 when their loved one is in trouble. If requests are open could I request how Blitz, Stolas, and Verosika would react their s/o suddenly becoming a badass to defend them?

I love writing for Verosika but I never get requests for her. I'm so happy someone requested her.

Blitz

-you were with him on a mission and Millie and Moxxie were off doing their couples' stuff. You and Blitz skipped on joining, preferring to get some work out of the way.

-you were on the prowl after your target when police officers approached you two, asking unnecessary questions. You tried to make them buzz off but Blitz made a snarky remark and was tazed.

-seeing Blitz be put down like that ignited a spark in you. You pulled out your small dagger and leaped onto the first cop you could reach, digging your knife into his collarbone and scraping bone. He cried out and shoved you off but he was incapacitated by his wound.

-the other cop rounded on you and you swirled down his leg, slicing his Achilles's heel on both legs, dropping him on his ass. You stood up, blood clotting your clothes and pulled out your gun. Aiming it between both cops' foreheads you warned them to fuck off or meet the end of your barrel. They scurried away, one being half carried by the other.

-you turned to Blitz, checking him over. He assured you he's had much worse, like when Dhorks caught him and Moxxie, and was fine but you still worried. He complimented how well you handled yourself and told you he wanted to see more of that in the future.

Stolas

-you were his personal guard during one of the parties his wife, Stella, was throwing. You knew it was wrong to be with a married man but what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, right? Not like their marriage wasn't arranged from the beginning.

-that said, you were by his side through the night as he got shit faced. He chugged Absinthe and danced with you sloppily, getting a little too close to Stella for comfort.

-when Stolas left to use the restroom Stella approached you. "The fuck do you think you're doing with my husband?!" she demanded. You shrugged. "Enjoying your party?" you feigned innocence. It was at this point Stolas arrived back from the restroom.

-"Stella, you're being paranoid. I'm just having fun with my body guard. Go gossip with your lady friends." you were shocked by how brutally blunt Stolas was with his wife and it didn't bode well with her. Lifting an arm she snarled, rearing up on him. "You think I'm naive Stolas? You don't think I see you with your new toy?" she tossed her hand to land a slap across Stolas' cheek but it never hit his face.

-instead you took the slap to your own face, pushing Stolas behind you. "Stella I have been nothing but polite to you but if you're going to be the whiniest bitch I've ever met there's plenty of dirty laundry I can air about you." you threatened, never looking away from her angry glare. After an intense staring contest she snorted and tore her wrist from your hand. "Whatever, you pathetic body guard. You win tonight." with that she left, grabbing a glass of wine as she walked away.

-Stolas thanked you immensely for your intervention and you insisted you were just doing your job, but admitted you hated seeing your man being abused by his wife. He waved it off, she never got out of hand with him, but you made him promise to tell you if she ever needed to be straightened out again.

Verosika

-as another bouncer at one of Verosika's clubs your job was to make sure only the right people entered her parties. You let in most who arrived as they were on the list but one hound showed up who wasn't on the list and refused to leave.

-he insisted you let him in, telling you he was Verosika's biggest fan. You calmly told him you couldn't let him in because he wasn't on the list. He got angrier and stormed past you into the party. You were unable to stop him before he reached Verosika.

-he angrily asked her why she didn't put him on her list. She told him that she wasn't required to do as he asked and her party was exclusively for good friends.

-it was as he reared back to pounce on her that you jumped him, wrapping an arm around his esophagus and choking him to the floor. You held a knee on his spine as you cuffed him and dragged him outside, kicking his ass out.

-Verosika made a public announcement thanking you for getting rid of the heckler and for the first time, announced you as her partner.

-"I'd like to thank my wonderful partner [Y/N] for getting rid of that nasty hound! This party was saved thanks to them, give 'em a hand!"

[blossom-works]

Next Time, Okay?

Request (anon): Hi!! I saw your post about the Leon Kennedy fanfic ideas, I was wondering if you could do one with this prompt? https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLKCFKUE/ if not then that’s okay!!🫶🫶🫶

A/N: I'm a sucker for some good angst. If you have a Leon Kennedy fic idea or a Kylian Mbappe one, I'm taking requests. Just no smut, please🙂

---

Breakups are tough. Especially when you really loved that person. For humans, letting go of anyone or anything is hard. Naturally, humans add sentimental meanings to their relationships with people and objects. It is one of the qualities that makes a person, a person. Breakups can happen because of a multitude of reasons. Cheating. Losing interest. Different beliefs or views. Toxicity.

In your case, it was a mutual breakup. You and your now ex, Leon Kennedy, came to an agreement that your relationship just will not work. He is too busy to be in a committed relationship and you like stability. You like knowing when your significant other wakes up to go to work and you like to know what time they will be coming home every day. The spontaneous up and leaving and the trauma that comes with it are just too much for you to handle.

Leon knew this too. It was too much additional stress to worry about you. Sometimes Leon just wants to come home without having to answer questions or be coddled. He just wanted to be alone in those moments. The two of you care too much about each other to stay in the relationship, only for it to result in bitterness and resentment. Neither of you wanted to hate the other. If you really think about it, you sort of knew the relationship with Leon would end eventually. Leon knew that too.

It still hurt though. You two cared about each other a lot. You made each other happy. You only get to feel that kind of special love a few times in life. When the breakup happened, the two of you hugged for a long time. In the middle of your living room. Just hugging. Wishing that things could have been different. It was a sad breakup but a needed one. When you went to bed that night, you just laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You cried too. You knew that Leon wanted to cry too but he is just too good at hiding his sadness.

During your relationship, you realized that Leon kept his emotions in check. You never saw him cry or heard him weep. You knew when he was sad, but he never wanted to talk about it. No, that is not right. Leon could not talk about what had bothered him all those times before. He is a federal agent so he is lawfully forbidden to talk about the missions he goes on. That was the one part of Leon he could never give you, and the one part of Leon you could never touch.

Getting over the breakup was even harder. You have had to refrain from sending Leon a "good morning" text. It sucked. You sort of kept to yourself for a while. You did not go out with your co-workers for dinner or a small get-together. Every now and then you would catch yourself crying in the shower.

It was hard for Leon too. You were his one chance at normalcy. Fighting BOWs for a living was not where Leon thought he would be when he signed up to be a police officer. Can he even call himself a former officer? His first day on the job was also his last. It hurt Leon to let you go. You were so innocent and Leon wanted to protect that innocence. It was not until recently that he began to see how if he stayed with you, he would be doing the opposite. Seeing him distraught without any knowledge of how to help him was destroying you. Leon did the one thing he needed to do to protect you from the ugliness of his world.

You are a civilian. You did not need to know the horrors Leon knows. Maybe it was the remaining piece of his younger, naive self that wanted to be an officer to help people, that possessed him to make a choice. Watch you blossom into a gorgeous rose from the horizon, or watch you wither away in the palm of his hands. No, Leon loves you too much for that.

"Leon?"

The half-drunken man turns the swivel bar chair to find you standing a couple of feet from him.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" Leon is so happy to see you in all your beauty. You still look the same but happier. Good. This is what Leon wants to protect.

You hold up a brown, paper bag that is stamped with the bar's logo. "I just came to pick up some dinner." You look at Leon's hand that is gripping a crystal glass of dark liquor.

"Another one?" Leon nods. You knew Leon had a drinking problem. He always drank when he came back from one of his missions. It died down a little when you got together, but he still drank a lot for comfort. It was in those instances that you were clueless about how to help him.

You sigh in pity and take a seat next to him, putting your bag of food on the counter. The bartender offers to take your order but you decline. Like second nature, you hold Leon's other hand in a comforting way.

"So, how have you been?" Leon asks.

You nod your head. "Good. I've been doing good. I got that promotion I talked about and I moved to a better complex. Oh! I even got a pet bird!"

Seeing you excited about getting a bird makes Leon smile. He remembers you talking about wanting one but the place you used to live in did not allow pets. You have always loved birds for some reason. Often times you would compare Leon to an eagle. It was even your nickname for him.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, still holding hands. Leon's palms feel more callous than before. You guess he has been keeping himself busy on those missions he can never talk about. Then, Leon breaks the ice.

"Can I tell you something?" You nod. "I still love you."

You take a deep breath to control your pounding chest. If the two of you were not in a public setting, you would have cried then and there.

"Do you still love me? Should I let you go or try again?" Leon needs to know. He needs to know how you feel because it will determine how he lives the rest of his life. The pity look you give him is a good enough answer, but he needs to hear you say it.

"If I'm being honest, a big part of me will always love you, Leon. But I don't think I love you like that anymore. It wouldn't be fair for either of us to go back."

Leon nods. Good. This is the answer Leon was hoping to hear. He cannot bring himself to be selfish enough to sacrifice your happiness.

"I know." He says as he tightens his grip on your hand. "I just want you to know that I'll always be grateful that you were part of my life. I think I'm in the same boat as you too. A part of me will always love you, just not in the same way I used to."

You lay your head on Leon's shoulder. Seeking comfort while simultaneously giving it. "I'm grateful too, Leon." Your voice wavers. "You'll always be special to me."

"So...Maybe we'll be able to work out in another life?"

You nod. "In another life..."

Leon lays his head on yours, still not letting go of your hand but loosening his grip. His drink of whiskey was long forgotten.

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

'One last time.' Leon tells himself.

"I love you."

"...I love you too."

Maybe in a life where Leon Scott Kennedy is not fighting bioterrorism, can you two be together. No bio-engineered creatures to fight. No secrets to keep. But right now, this eagle still has to soar through the neverending sky before he can be set free.

[tobbotobbs]

Yandere DBH RK800 Connor x male (deviant or human) reader

Connors mission is to find and obtain the reader, a deviant/human on the run. However when searching the house he finds reader hiding and doesn’t warn Hank. Instead he sneaks the reader out and takes him for himself. He was just such a pretty model/boy that he had to take him home for himself.

Maybe he imbeds a chip into the reader to know where he is at all times?

Either human or deviant reader, just make Yandere Conner please and thanks.

Never wrote yandere stuff before so I hope this is okay :(

It was dark outside when M/n finally found an abandoned house where he could rest and hide for now. He had been running from the police and the dogs for what seemed like an eternity. And the fact that they were shooting after him as well, because he apperiantly couldn't feel pain and was just scrap metal with a voice, did not really made the running easier. He had to dodge thise bullets because he, in fact, did feel everytime something punctured his model. He in fact had feelings. Which was the start of all his problems actually. He had started to show some interest in his Mistress, Alina, which led her to question him what was happening and if his database was broken or needed a new update. Of course he declined and actually told her, as stupid as he was, that he had those feelings in him. They just suddenly started to appear someday and since a few days he broke through his data wall and finally acted on his own completely. After hearing her bodyguard android telling her all this, Alina of course chose to be careful and tell the android company about this situation she was in. And in no time they came and wanted to get rid of M/n. It was devastating, he had thought Alina felt something for him as well. The way she always made sure he was all cleaned up, had enough power or would be in good condition after a hard day of keeping creeps away from her on festivals or meetings. Oh, how naive the android had been. Thinking back to all this, he really shouldn't have been surprised. As long as he had no boiling blood, a beating heart and the life ik his eyes when being looked at he was worth nothing to noone.

A loud creek from one of the molting woodplanks took his interest. Slowly, M/n made his way over to the next room where he assumed the sound had come from. At closer inspection he found a few pigeons on the floor who just seemed to be sitting there and resting, just like he did. Smiling he went closer and sat down next to them, the animals not bothered by the androids appearance and deciding to just stay where they were seated, sharing the nice quietness of the room in the dark room which was slightly alighted by the moons presence outside. ,,You guys seem so peaceful...I wish I could just fly away as well. That must be a relieving feeling, go just...go", he whispered more to himself than the pigeons who only looked at him from the side in a weird manner. He only chuckled lightly. ,,Yeah...Yeah I must look a little mad right now I guess...", still talking to himself, M/n decided to call it a day and maybe dwell in the comfort of old memories on his database.

Meanwhile in the dpd, Hank Anderson and his Android partner Connor were sitting at their desks and waiting for something to come up so they could finally get away from Gavin and rk900 yelling at eachother in the office. It was literal hell for them. These idiots weren't even getting any punishment which made Hank more annoyed than he already was. It was just awful watching those two argue about some little inconvenience of their case when the real reason they've been so frustrated with eachother was in fact not the case but the sexual tension going on between them. Everyone saw it, even Connor who mostly didn't understand social clues and other things that had to do with human emotions. But really, for an Android that smart rk900 also seemed to not get it. And Gavin probably just felt too ashamed and proud to let the thought of him liking an Android slide. Poor guys, Hank thought to himself. He then proceeded to turn around in his seat and took a look at his partner who, instead of still looking at the arguing cops, stared at the wall, deep in thoughts. His little LED flickered between blue and yellow, showing that he was thinking or more like processing something which got the older man interested.

,,Connor, what's going on in that little head of yours?", he had asked smugly, already awaiting Connors dismissing reply that he actually had no real head and mind but just his servers to go through, though it seemed the Android was so deep in whatever he was doing, that he didn't even noticed Hanks question. ,,Hank, Connor! Come up here, I got a mission for you two!", the loud voice of their boss suddenly rang through the office which also bought Connor out of his processing procedure. The both of them stood up and quickly went up the stairs to the bureau of the captain of the dpd to see what he had for them. Seated in the bureau they waited for their orders. Which came quickly. A the Android of a higher ranked woman among society turned Deviant and was missed. He was classified as very dangerous because he was a bodyguard and still has weapons on him. And Hank and Connor needed to search for clues on where he was or best, find him right away and take him in. It seemed like a good and easy start into the operation, as they had already a clue on where he was last seen.

And easy it was, as it seemed. The Deviant hasn't left the area since yesterday and they just needed to check in which of all the abandoned buildings he was hiding. For that Hank and Connor decided to split up to cover more grounds. Connor, alone in an old factory building, fell into a spiral of thoughts. He was thinking about what exactly happened to the Android to suddenly turn Deviant. Captain didn't tell them any details because they needed to hurry things. He also wondered if he could ask the Deviant a few questions, personal ones, before they need to take him in and interrogate him. Perhaps he could befriend him as well to make things go easier. He threw that thought away as fast as it came. Androids don't make friends. That's what Deviants do. He was no Deviant. Suddenly he heard something. A little humming, coming from the room next to him. Slowly and carefully, Connor peaked around the corner. There, next to a lot of pigeons, the Deviant they were searching for stood and hummed a melody while dancing around a little, or more like jumping around. At the sight Connor forgot why they were here. This Deviant was dangerous? That sweet looking, humming and jumping Android in front of him? That couldn't be. He was too precious. He couldn't possibly hurt a fly now, could he? As Connor watched M/n for a while longer some confusing feelings made their way up into his system which caused to constantly show the words Software Instability in the right corner of his vision. He ignored those though. More focused on the heavenly creation in front of him. He wanted M/n. The feelings in his system were want and desire, he finally figured out.

He walked into the room, M/n still not noticing his presence as he was having fun humming and jumping around. Just as he was about to turn around, Connor grabbed the other Android from behind and held him still. He quickly searched for the deactivation button on the model to turn him off and when he did found it, he pressed it. M/n suddenly stood still and his LED blinked red for a few more seconds before it turned off. ,,I got you...now I just have to bring you home. Hopefully Hank won't notice I just left now...", Connor talked to himself as he pulled M/n into his arms and carried him away. His legs carried him to his apartment which he got while he worked in the dpd with Hank. He hadn't want to stay at the older man's home all the time so he got his own place. The way back to Connors place wasn't too long and nobody seemed to be out on the streets at this time of the day so he could easily take M/n with him. In his apartment he laid the h/c android down onto his couch and just looked at him for a little while. Then he got to work.

He searched up what to do in a situation like this and he came across some dark looking sites on the internet that told him to lock the person up, bondage them and keep them quiet somehow and be careful to not let them leave too many handprints over his place. He was confused at first but didn't look to much into it, humans were confusing to him anyways. He even got into a little discussion on one of those dark illegal site where one person recommended him, if he wanted to keep the person in control and know where they were at all times, he should put a tracker on them. That gave Connor a idea. He smiled to himself after he planned out what he would do to keep this Android, his Android, at his side. It was getting overwhelming, those feelings he had. The want grew and grew, he needed M/n at his side forever, somehow. He would do anything to accomplish that. He pulled a few arrangements over the next day, he had turned M/n's model on again which needed a little bit to restart after the abrupt deactivation, which gave him enough time to go and get the little chip he had bought online. When he came back from his little shopping spree, he had also rather impulsively bought a collar and a leash after walking along a pet store, he opened the door to his apartment slowly. The place was totally quiet, which made the Android think that M/n's model was still restarting.

Well he had thought wrong. Just when Connor rounded the cornor into the living room, the Deviant jumped at him. They both fell to the floor, Connors contents he had bought flew a few metres away thanks to the force of M/n crashing into him. ,,Who the fuck are you?! And why did you take me?!?!", the h/c Android asked, his voice shaking with anger as well as anxiety. Defensively, Connor held his hands up. ,,I'm Connor. I'm an Android, just like you. Well. Nearly like you. I saw you yesterday and...I took you. I have this feeling in me and it makes me crave for you since I saw you and now that I have you, we can live together! You don't have to worry about getting captured, tortured or even destroyed by humans! And you can jump around and hum how much you like here with me! You'll have such a kice life here with me, I promise!", he kind of maniacally smiled up at M/n. Everything he had said caught the ex bodyguard off guard. ,,Crave...me? What do you mean?", more anxious and confused now, M/n stood up and backed away from Connor a little. ,,You belong to me now M/n! I can and will give you everything yeah? This is your new home, trust me this is going to be perfect!", he stood up as well and walked closer to M/n. ,,I even got my little Deviant something~", it nearly sounded like Connor was purring those words as he grabbed the stuff from the floor. ,,Now, be good and let me put this around you yes? It will make you look so much better!", he exclaimed. His cold hands took the collar and the leash, opening it while putting it around M/n's neck, who was still shocked and couldn't really react or do anything. After it was put comfortably around the neck and closed, Connor clipped the leash onto a little hook at the frond of the collar and tugged slightly at it which made the Deviant fall forward a little and his mouth escaped a choked gasp at the sudden pressure around his throat, which turned a little white at the irritation.

Snickering, Connor tugged a little more until M/n was right in front of him. If he could breath, the other Android would've been able to feel it on his skin. ,,So good for me darling...now to my last little gift. God you look so obedient and good in this collar and leash! If I tugg you a little closer...like...this!", he pulled and M/n finally fell fully into his chest. That gave Connor the perfect position of putting the chip into back of M/n's head. ,,Darling stay still for a second. I've got to put something into you...for your safety yes? It could hurt a little but please, remember I love you and I am doing this so you'll be able to have a better life yes?", he sugar coated what he was about to do. Panicking about what was about to happen, M/n started to free himself from Connors grip, but the other had him perfectly captured between his arms. M/n felt one cold hand travel to the back of his head, where he pushed a little around before he found what he was looking for. A little plate of metal that wasn't really connected to the rest of the other parts. So he could pull it of, with force. Which he did. Agonizing pain went through the Deviants body. His eyes were opened wide while his mout let out an silently painful scream. If he could, he would fall unconscious. He wished he could fall unconscious. He didn't want to be here in the arms of some weird Android model that has gone mad. M/n didn't even care about the pain when the chip was put into his model. He just accepted it and afterwards, when the little plate was put onto it's place again, he didn't dare to look Connor in the eyes. He was scared, confused and stressed. He should've stayed with Mistress Alina, should've not told her how he felt. Oh what he would give to just be in her presence right now and get to speak a few words with her. He missed her. So much. It made him feel even worse, now that some creepy stranger took a liking on him and decided to creepy him and make him his. He didn't want that, all he wanted was to be left alone, to fly like the pigeons did.

So aorry this is actually so fucking bad I didn't know what to write exactly 'cause I've never written or really read any yandere stuff! I'm so sorry, hope you guys still kinda enjoyed it (:

[turian]

garrus's position as what is essentially a police officer puts him in the line of fire of various tired copaganda tropes. worthy of note is the "cowboy cop" trope, which can be summarized as a renegade police officer who breaks the rules in favor of vengeance, justice, or righteousness. the "cowboy cop" is usually framed as being in the right; this trope largely belongs to antiheroes. "cowboy cop" is considered by tvtropes to apply to both garrus vakarian and renegade shepard. garrus, though noted as being more "polite and soft-spoken" than those the trope generally applies to, is a character who defies authority and values his own sense of justice above the law. he voices his preference for killing criminals rather than letting them slip away. his personal quest in me2 is heavily related to this - he seeks to hunt down and kill a man who he perceives (whether or not he is correct is not relevant; all that's relevant is that garrus believes wholeheartedly in this conviction and this method of justice) was responsible for horrific human rights abuses. as a paragon or renegade shepard, you can either aid garrus in this or stay his hand and insist that you seek another more measured form of justice.

garrus has, by this point in the narrative, essentially become a vigilante. he is a dog with a bone when it comes to his view of justice, and he is not capable of letting an investigation go because beureaucracy - or hierarchy - dictates he must. this is why he quits c-sec, so that he can chase justice along shepard's side. after shepard and him are separated, garrus, rather than resuming a c-sec career, decides to go clean up crime on omega. he is granted the nickname archangel. these exploits nearly get him killed - it is only shepard's intervention (which occurs just in the nick of time) which save him from near-certain death. even with shepard's help, he does not leave omega unscathed - he has, by the end of his recruitment mission, taken a rocket to the face, and for the rest of the game series, carries those scars.

garrus's story would not be terribly out of place in gotham, though its politics differ from batman's. the "cowboy cop" trope doesn't technically apply to bruce wayne. bruce wayne's vigilantism, gothic or not, is shown to be directly in community with police. batman serves the empire in which he lurks. batman may take issue with some corruption in that system, but he naively believes in good cops. batman is elevated by one thing only - his refusal to kill. that said, he is happy to hand victims of his justice to institutions that will kill.

garrus vakarian has oft been called the batman of his universe, but should instead be likened to jason todd, aka red hood. red hood is fuelled by anger at a system that failed him, and seeks to work outside of that system. however, even in working outside of that system, jason carries the system's view of justice with him when he dispenses his own violent form of vigilante justice. red hood fights the same people that batman fights - the only difference, really, is that jason fights with bullets rather than batarangs.

garrus's motivations are alleged to be a desire to stand against and work independently of corruption. and to be clear, taking a stance against corrupt police is good. violence against corruption is good. violence against police is good. however, based on garrus's aims and actions, it seems clear that garrus is not against policing, nor is he necessarily against corruption in all its forms. garrus is instead against being controlled. garrus would like to step outside of the system, but unwittingly brings the system with him when he makes that move. quoting from tvtropes:

Paragon Shepard's influence can inspire [garrus] to rejoin C-Sec with a new appreciation for playing by the rules, in addition to reapplying for Spectre candidacy (which happens either route you take). Renegade Shepard's influence, conversely, will encourage his tendencies to the extent that he envies Shepard's lack of problems with red tape.

garrus's frustration may be with c-sec and corruption within c-sec in part, but garrus is distinguished from corrupt officers only through his disdain for anything he perceives as leashing him. it's made clear by his respect for renegade shepard and the ability of a pro-police paragon shepard to sway him back c-sec's way that garrus is more than fine with the police. his disdain for them is in no way radical. it should also be noted that garrus leaves c-sec to serve the alliance military, who are enforcing laws in their own right. garrus simply moves to doing the same things he's always done in proverbial international waters.

characters like garrus and bruce wayne (and, for that matter, jason todd) act with authority based on their own convictions. because they operate within stories and are intended as sympathetic characters, their convictions go largely unquestioned by the narrative. batman is right because he's batman. red hood is right because he's red hood, except when batman is right instead. shepard is right because they're shepard. garrus is right because he's garrus, except when shepard is right instead. the question mass effect really poses in garrus's arm of the story is as follows: should garrus dispense violence for the system within the system, or should he dispense violence for the system while pretending he exists outside of it?