#like sorry! sorry because of who I am my life just kinda has to have No Meaning

[akanemnon]

I totally get not wanting to do the geno run, I remember wanting to start the run, killed a single monster, and deleted the save.

A friend was mean to me for giving up on it.

This was back when the game was just a few months old, and we were 14-16 years old.

It's just... like you said. I don't want to hurt the pixilated people. Makes me feel sad. And because I was maybe 15 years old, and very sensitive, made me feel extreme empathy for these characters.

I'm really sorry your friend was mean to you because you didn't want to go throught with the genocide route. These characters are written with so much love and care, that it is no wonder that you would get attached to them and wouldn't want to hurt them. I literally feel the same way.

I have no way to confirm this, but I have heard that back in the day people used to be really mean when people didn't play Undertale the "correct" way. That kinda sounds like one of these cases.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to do the genocide route. There is also nothing wrong with going through with it. Undertale is a game and it gives you the option to approach it in any way you like. It also reacts to the way you do it.

In the end it all boils down to what you get the most out of in the game. For some people it's the characters, for others it's the fights, and then there are those who want to scour every single thing this game has to offer. Undertale has something for everyone.

I am more than content with only doing the pacifist route and never touching the game again after that. Yes, these characters are just a bunch of lines code and pixels, but in my mind, they're quite happy with the life I could help give them on that Switch cartridge.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hello I was wondering if you could do Jackson ellie x bestfreind reader and like they have had a crush on eachother for a while and have a sleepover where they smoke or drink maybe or play some type of game like truth or dare and find out they like eachother and get kinda freaky idk. Thank you!

EEE I am so excited for this one watch me cook on this request. This is a rlly good request and I wanna write something just as good!! Also I want to recommend you an ao3 fic with this EXACT plot it's tagged here actually my favorite Ellie fic ever.

Content: 4k words, bestfriend reader, Jackson setting, pent-up feelings, nipple-play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), tribbing, Ellie puts a finger into your mouth how fun!, a lot of dialogue before the actual sex sorry but I loved writing Ellie to be funny, reader likes pink a lot (couldn't help myself) and is afab, reader and Ellie 18+, NOT PROOFREAD LMAO

You're far from safe from liking people you shouldn't like.

That doesn't even cover the multitude of feelings! Like doesn't cover it. You're pretty sure you love Ellie.

Maybe in another lifetime, you and Ellie could've met and went on a date. You could've loved her freely. In this universe, she is your childhood best friend.

You know it could ruin the best thing that has ever happened to you if you tell her, or if she finds out in some way, but fuck; when she looks at you, it's like you forget how to breathe. You just wanna breathe her in, you want to share the same air and feel her lips on yours.

Ellie is unlike anyone you've ever known. She's sweet for you. She's impulsive to others, and honestly sometimes an asshole. That only makes you fall more and more in love for her. You didn't know it was possible to be attracted to someone's flaws, but you want every piece of her, even the bits that others in Jackson label as "annoying."

Ellie has always been there for you since you were just 15 and she moved to Jackson right by Joel's side. You just seemed to click. She was brash, foul-mouthed, and told ironically funny dad jokes. You were the type of person who liked having adventures and never shut up. Ellie always listened. She held you while you cried, let you borrow her book of puns, and volunteered to do patrols with you just so she could have fun adventures with you.

You couldn't ruin a good thing. You don't know what you would even do without Ellie in your life. You didn't wanna freak her out or make things weird. You feel like such a coward, but even thinking about Ellie distancing herself from you because of your stupid crush on her? It just makes your stomach churn with dread.

Little did you know Ellie was equally obsessed with you.

You're like a fucking ball of sunshine to the girl, always there laughing at the stupid things she says, defending her when she gets in trouble for something minor, and your smile should be considered warfare for how easily it could kill her. She tries to keep her feelings to herself, but it is so hard to when you look at her with bright eyes and the sweetest smile like you're trying to give her a toothache.

It's a recipe for a bomb, and it only takes one game to set it off.

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You're sitting criss-cross on your bed and Ellie is in your floor. It's a Saturday, which means both of you get to have a sleepover. No patrol, and no major chores to be done around Jackson.

Ellie just got back from a multiple day lasting patrol and she missed you so much while she was gone, it's not even funny. Seattle is beautiful, but boring when there isn't a sunshine girl in awe about how the verdure clings to the buildings. But at least now she is here, back in your bedroom which she loves so much.

Ellie's room is vastly different from yours. Well, her garage is. Her bedsheets are grey and minimalistic, and her make-shift kitchen is lined with posters. Her favorite is the one with the punk green-haired man holding a guitar. Her closet, however, it quite impressive. Her shelves are lined with comics and space movies, and her hangers are lined with flannels, of course.

Your bedroom, in contrast, has white bedsheets and a cozy pink blanket. You have a few raggedy plushies from scavenging around and your shelves are filled with lighter-colored clothing. White curtains decorate your windows and frilly pillowcases (that end up in the floor most of the time) compliment your bed. You have a full-length mirror in the corner of your room and a shelf of DVDs you usually just bring over to Ellie's garage, since she has a much nicer tv than you do. Ellie glances up at you from the floor, squiggling her eyebrows.

"I'm so fucking bored!" You groan, making Ellie laugh in the process.

"And how is that my problem?"

You flip her off and she clutches her stomach.

"Seriously, Ellie. I wanna actually do something and not just eat grilled cheeses and read your nerdy comics."

She scoffs.

"Excuse me? It's not my fault you have bad taste in literature."

You snort at that. "Starlight Savage and Raven Mouse are not literature."

"Oh, then what are they, huh?" She stands up, amusingly offended.

"Comics!"

Ellie grabs one of your pillows and pretends to suffocate you with it. You're laughing and trying to pry it off of your face.

"Hey, quit! You're actually gonna kill me!" You giggle, your voice muffled from the cushioning.

Ellie finally relents, laughing along with you.

"Better think twice before disrespecting Starlight Savage." She is wearing her signature shit-eating grin.

"Oh, whatever.. Hey!- You got me off topic." You groaned.

Ellie laughs at that. "And what was the topic?"

"I am bored out of my fucking mind," you complain, your voice rising in pitch to sound whiny, which she pretends to absolutely hate.

Really, she just hates that it makes her stomach clench when she hears your cute complains, and the tone of your whines only makes it worse.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can do something fun." She feigns reluctance, setting down on the bed beside you.

"Great!! So, what should we do?"

"Seriously? You don't even know what you wanna do and you gave me whiplash bitching about being bored?"

You scoff, jumping to your own defense. "I was tryin' to get you to come up with something," and then you add to complete your argument, "I wouldn't be bored if I knew what we could do."

Ellie sighs, and you smile because you know that means she has had enough of your bullshit and she just wants to throw in the towel.

"Fine. Well, we can play a game perhaps?"

You groan in protest at the suggestion. "You're a dirty cheater when it comes to Monopoly!"

Ellie only lets out a sheepish laugh at that, because she knows that you're being 100% truthful. "That is what makes the game fun!" When she sees your glare, she sighs once more. "Fine. How 'bout Truth or Dare?"

That sounds intriguing; the game begins.

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You and Ellie sit across from each other, and the game has been going on for around 10 minutes now. It's getting quite boring - always questions like "What's a secret you haven't told me?" or Ellie dares you to do something she knows you won't do, like lick the toilet bowl.

Then, she asks a question that brings the game onto another level.

"What's your favorite sex position?"

You stare at her, your jaw practically in your lap. You don't wanna talk sex positions with the girl you secretly wanna do sex positions with.

"What the fuck, Ellie?!"

She looks a bit guilty, but shrugs with a smirk that doesn't go unnoticed.

"What? I wanted to spice things up. C'mon, don't be a pussy."

You think it over, but finally, with a heated face, you say fuck it and give into her bullshit. "Missionary."

Ellie bursts out laughing.

You're sitting there not knowing what to do! She is laughing like a hyena at this point, tears in the corners of her eyes. She slaps her knee. What the fuck?!

"What's so funny?!"

Ellie just laughs, falling over and she is snorting like a pig now before she finally settles down. "It's just.." she tries to stifle a giggle, "that is the most boring thing you could've possibly said.”

You know that, but you're keen on defending your word. Ellie loves that about you, how you're always quick to stand up for yourself. "It's romantic!"

"Okay, okay," she shrugs. "Enlighten me on how missionary is more romantic than any other position that actually feels good."

You don't hesitate to list off the facts. "First of all, it does feel good! You just haven't tried the pillow method. Second of all, you can kiss your partner and actually talk to them." You sigh, getting a bit flustered (and turned on) by the conversation at hand. "Imagine fucking someone and getting to kiss all over their face while doing so, or on their neck or their tits. It's about the intimacy."

Ellie looks just as flustered as you now. She is silent for a moment before giving you the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, I guess you can rest your case now. But there is much more intimate positions than missionary, you know. You're just thinking vanilla ones like riding the strap-on, or from behind."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Okay, I'll bite. What's more intimate than looking into someone's eyes while they cum?"

Ellie laughs at your vulgar question, pink tinting her freckled cheeks. "Tribbing." Her voice is more quiet, and that only makes you more aware of the slight tension.

You quickly brush it off with a laugh.

"Of course your gay ass would say that."

She grins and sits up at that, quick to defend herself. "Hey, you have no room to be talking, little miss 'my gay awakening is Rose from Titanic.'"

Your jaw drops and you look at her like she has said something crazy. "Hey, Rose is hot!"

She giggles. "Yeah, Sherlock, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, okay. Can we get back to the game?"

She nods, and it continues.

As time passes, the questions grow more and more...uncomfortable to answer. You're still asking her the more casual things, but Ellie is daring you to do stupid, impossible stuff, or to answer questions like "what was your first time like?", "do you have a friends with benefits situation with anyone in Jackson?", and "if you could kiss anyone in Jackson, who would it be?" (which you brushed off jokingly by saying old man Eugene. She didn't press any further, only mocking you).

Then, she leans forward after you choose truth, and she whispers something you can't really brush off.

"Who do you like?"

You're fucked. If she asked "do you like someone?", you could answer without revealing who it is. She knows she has you trapped. Sneaky cunt.

You don't answer right away. Ellie is so close, your knees touching. The air in the room is insanely hot, and you want to leave your own house, you want to hide under your blankets or cover your face, but you can't.

Ellie doesn't wait for you to answer.

"I know you like someone, I can tell when my best friend is in love. Who is it?"

"That's way too personal, I.."

She scoffs, but it's not a rude sound. Just shocked, maybe slightly hurt. "You have always told me your crushes. Why won't you tell me now?"

You feel guilty now because she doesn't understand. She doesn't get why you won't tell her. She can't understand that it's because you like her. You want to scream it: I'm in love with you, Ellie! But those words won't be the next you utter.

"I just...I feel like this time it should be private." You know that your reasoning is weak, for once in your life, the defense is slipping and it's ugly. You internally wince.

She just stares in silence, not really meeting your eyes. It makes you panic, and then, then the words slip from your mouth seeing the hurt on Ellie's pretty face.

"It's you."

She stares at you like she didn't quite hear what you said, even though it was shaky, nevertheless loud and coherent.

"What...?"

"I..I'm in love with you, Ellie." You repeat yourself.

She leans into you. "Fuck.." Her breath hitches. "You better not be fucking around with me, I swear to-"

"No!", you shout loudly and quickly try to compose yourself. "I mean..I'm not joking. I like you. I hope this doesn't fuck with our friendship, or like.." You trail off, not wanting to think about what could happen now.

"I'm in love with you, too." There, now Ellie has gotten it out too.

Ellie didn't even fully understand why she asked you that. She knew she could've gotten her feelings hurt, that you could've liked someone else or that it would definitely mean you did like her, and then she had to be vulnerable and confess it back. Still, she was so exhausted, so fucking tired of pretending like hugs and casual touches were enough. They were never enough.

"Can I kiss you?" She doesn't even give you the proper time to react to her shared confession before she springs that onto you. You don't complain, only nodding quickly.

Her breath is warm against yours, and you can tell how shaky it is. You've never seen her so nervous, it makes your own stomach flutter with butterflies. Then, Ellie's grasping onto your face and smashing her lips against yours. Her mouth is warm, and the kiss doesn't even start out gentle. It's all devouring, all need and passon.

You quickly move into her lap, thighs on either sides of hers, and both of you are desperately pulling each other closer, finally sharing the same air. She tastes like everything natural, something so unique it can't be described but you immediately know you need more of it. Her tongue moves inside of your mouth, devouring you just like how she has been dreaming of for who knows how long, and when you're forced to pull away for a breath, her lips are sloppily trailing down your jaw to your throat, her hands grasping your hips to pull you closer.

"I've wanted you for so long, you know that?" Her voice is warm against your sensitive skin, and you think you could just burst with how it feels to be practically intertwined with her.

"Show me how it feels, Els.." You gasp and tilt your head back for more, but Ellie pulls away to look at you.

"How what feels?' She doesn't sound rude, only confused with her lips swollen and wet.

"The intimacy..the intimacy you talked about.." Oh, that.

She nods quickly, and her mouth is all over your shoulders, leaving soft pecks between words, "We can do that, but I wanna do something first..is that okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

With that, she pulls your shirt over your head and stares at you like she has never seen a pair of boobs before. Her eyes are wide and she takes you in before her.

"You're so pretty," she mumbles with conviction, kneading your tits through your bra. You can only moan when she sticks a hand into your bra and rubs her palm over your nipples, her other hand deftly undoing the clasp of the fabric.

That was the hottest thing you could do for a woman, Williams..

Her lips quickly find a nipple, pulling it into her mouth to swirl her tongue around the bud. Your fingers tug at her hair, begging for more. You need her closer. She reluctantly pulls her mouth off off of its new favorite place and leans back up to face you, planting an affectionate kiss on your cheek before smiling sheepishly.

"I'm gonna say something I want to do to you, but you can't laugh.."

That makes you already giggle, despite the heat building between your thighs. That is something you love about Ellie, the way she can make you laugh even when you aren't supposed to be.

"I'll try my best. What is it?" You ask, and she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

"I wanna use my fingers on you," she says it so quietly, voice nervous but filled with hunger before she quickly adds, "if you want me to. It's okay if you don't wanna go any further-"

"I want you to finger me, Els."

That was easier than she thought it would be.

She nods now, slowly unbuttoning your jeans and watching with an intense gaze as you hop off of her lap to shimmy them off. Now you're in nothing but a cotton pair of panties and you look so gorgeous.

Ellie has always found you to be beautiful. During patrols and on lookout, your hair had a shine to it that most people wouldn't care to think too much about, but Ellie always noticed it. Ellie always noticed the way your lips parted when you were zoned out, or how you walked like you always knew where you were going even on the paths that were mainly uncharted. You were so lovely-looking.

Now, nearly naked for her, she doesn't know if she can bare to blink even for a second. She is currently having a never-ending starting contest with your body, and she has to stop herself from pouncing on you. She wants to love you, not just fuck you.

Ellie is on her knees between your legs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your underwear. Her eyes flicker over your body before looking to yours for confirmation.

"You sure you want this?"

"Please, Ellie. I want you." You know you sound desperate for her, but it can't be helped. You were soaked through your underwear, clit beating with need, and Ellie is just eyeing you like she wanted to devour you. She probably would, but she wants to save your clit for later.

She nods and slips your underwear down your legs, pulling them off of your ankles and throwing them behind her. The action made you giggle, but Ellie quickly squashed your outburst.

"Somethin' funny?" She asks, slipping a finger through your slick folds. You gasp and jolt.

"Hey, where the fuck is the warning, you cunt?"

She has to stifle her own laugh at your outburst, but she is growing tired of the cute giggles; if you laughed one more time, she'd be fucking you until you were limping-

"Sorry, pretty. I'm gettin' impatient." Her tone mkes you involuntarily clench. You rarely hear that tone, the serious one when she is either around someone she doesn't know and is keeping it professional or just not in the mood to joke. Now, you discover it's her horny tone, too.

You nod, tilting your head back to rest it on your frilly pillow. Finally, she slips two digits past your lips and you resist the urge to let a whorish whine slip past your lips. When she easily slides into your heat, you then can't resist.

Ellie's eyes are glued to your pussy like it's magic, watching your hips try to rise for more, feeling the way your walls tighten around her intrusion.

It's too much for her poor, fucked head to bare.

She is already as wrecked as you are. She wants to taunt you for the way you already look like you're going to cum from her barely brushing at your spongey g-spot, but she can't. She is probably in rougher shape right now.

"You feel so warm." It's all she can manage to get out, and she curls her fingers inside of you into upward, making you moan.

"I wanna cum, Els..please, more. Give me more." Ellie has never seen you this dumb for pleasure before, but who is she to deny you?

Her fingers aren't thrusting in and out or finger-banging you, just slowly sliding through your cunt, her fingertips stroking where you need them to. You feel so full, so complete. You hope she does this every single day from here on out.

It doesn't take long to get you into a state of complete bliss, and you haven't even climaxed yet. Your legs aren't clamping down, rather spreading wider as if you're begging for her to take you in the most obscene ways possible, fill you up with more than just her fingers. If only she you two were currently at her house, she has that unopened strap-on box... maybe for another day.

The knot that builds in your stomach, the temperature of it overheating your insides is about to snap. You're begging as if Ellie is teasing you or something. You're whining, and you look like you're about to start sobbing if she pauses her pace even for a nanosecond. She just wants to gives you everything, thinks you deserve the whole world, so she leans forward and intertwines her fingers with yours as her other fingers pump deep inside you, and you swear it's rearranging your guts. You wanna be wrecked so damn badly.

"You keep fluttering around me, gonna cum?" She asks, and you whine and nod.

Your orgasm soon hits you like a tsunami, once in a crash and then it simmers throughout you in waves. This is probably the hardest you have ever came. You gasp onto her hand tight, squeezing her fingers. You can't even speak or you'd be howling her name. It feels so euphoric and you wonder how it can get any better than this.

When you come down from the peak, she eases her fingers out of your tender insides and licks her ring finger clean. Then, she settles her hips between your legs, bringing her soaking middle finger to your lips.

"Open up."

You do so without question, tasting yourself on her digit before she swiftly pulls her finger away with a "pop!"

"I taste weird," you mumble and she rolls her eyes, mumbling a little "fuck you" before sitting up to strip out of her flannel.

You feel maybe a little nervous before. Something about the thought of feeling her in such an intimate way makes you feel even more fluttery inside. You've been with women before, you are far from a virgin, but you've never clashed clits before (omfg what). Most girls thought it was just a porn thing.

"You okay?" Ellie pauses, her flannel on the bed and a black t-shirt layer underneath it.

"Yeah," you mean it, "just a little nervous."

Her eyes soften, and she takes your hand and squeezes it. "I promise I'll be slow with you. I'm not gonna rush you into this, and if you want, we can always stop."

You feel more assured now, and you smile. "Okay."

When she finally strips out of her clothing, you take her in. She is breath-takingly beautiful. Her body is pale but covered in tan freckles, and her nipples are perky with arousal. Her shoulders and collarbone look so fucking kissable. You're still in a daze as she hooks a leg over yours, her warm cunt only an inch or two away from yours. She hovers.

"You ready?"

"I want you, so yes."

That makes her smile, and she slowly eases down onto you, her folds rubbing up against yours and both of your neglected clits finally getting the attention they deserve. Both of you are already moaning and Ellie leans down onto you, her tits brushing against yours as she kisses you deeply.

This kiss is slower than the first, less desperate but just as emotional. It's hungry and consumes you in a sensual way. Her hips grind against yours, her slick mixing with your soaked pussy to make you only whine into her mouth.

Now you understand how intimate this is. You feel so connected to Ellie in a way you hope you never get to feel with anyone else. You wanna always be this close. You think that even after this ends, you'll feel that tie to her body and heart, always leading you back to her.

When you both cum together, it's much different than what she gave you before. You can feel her tense up with you, hear her shaky breaths and moans, and you feel a warmth inside of you reminding you that she feels this way because of your pussy, because of her feelings for you. It's making you obsessive to feel this way.

When the high fades, she collapses on top you. You're both breathing heavily for a few minutes. Her breath is against your neck and it feels like a kiss. Your brain is thinking of something stupid now that the horniness is over.

"Isn't it obvious that I'm your girlfriend now?"

Ellie laughs and squeezes you tightly.

"Yeah. You're my girlfriend now, and I'm not letting you go."

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[hotvintagepoll]

Marius Goring (A Matter of Life and Death)—as a murdered french aristocrat doing business for heaven in A Matter of Life and Death, he’s channeling Lestat if Lestat were dressed entirely in party city bargain bin items, played by Lumiere from beauty and the beast, and drenched in cheese. Goring could not have done a worse job and I love him for it.

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Marius Goring:

Dwight Frye:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy. The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor. [editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[pokimoko]

Listening to instrumentals from the silly doo-wee-ooo show is actually something that can be so painful.

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

True enjoyment of interests™ means subtly wearing something in a way that someone might kinda go "🤨? - that's kinda familiar" but not be confident enough to actually call you out on it for each one

(Source: ME, who owns zip-at-the-front boots like Cloud Strife/buster sword earrings & keychain/Kirby earrings/Legend of Zelda earrings/white gloves that give off the strongest Sonic vibes ever/anklets for Cove/green & gold nail polish for Lloyd etc)

[isdalinarhot]

I think theoretically if I drink crazy fast and do not stop I could finish the bottle tonight before I go to bed but what satisfaction would that bring? The fact that I’m tolerance enough that I can have 25 shots of 60 proof without dying? (That’s equivalent to 18-19 shots of normal unflavored vodka but that doesn’t. Hmm. That doesn’t sound better or more reasonable.) anyway whatever this is not the lowest point of my whole entire life but it’s pretty damn low. But it still beats being actively suicidal at night. Like I often was when drinking wasn’t an option. Quite a conundrum

[vamptastic]

i think my constant seething rage is honestly very reasonable. i literally live in florida.

[mazojo]

What's yuri's personality then? Being gay?

About Minho, being mean and making mean two liners towards Kitty every in between?

ma'am this is a McDonalds drive thru

[haarute]

i'm sorry but as someone who is always trying to understand most things and most people, the reaction a lot of folks have of immediately dismissing something or jumping to an outrage without having a second to try to reflect on a situation or process empathy is something that i will never relate to and i consider to be a bad mentality to have if left unchecked actually

[assmundr]

Hey you're back on critiquing webcomics! Does that mean you're also going to start posting Crystal Clear again soon???

Oh no, my kryptonite fhfhxdbcjxj

I honestly really don't think so. It's even less likely than me restarting and finishing the Asmundr/Home review video essay.

Two main reasons for that:

1) The story is So. Incredibly. Outdated that continuing it as it is would not be up to my current standard whatsoever and I just wouldn't enjoy telling a story I see as incredibly flawed. I firstly conceived this story when I was like eleven (or twelve) then started to cough it out when I was sixteen. I am now twenty five, twenty six in a few days, and whatever I created when I was a teenager is just not up to my standard today. All the experience, maturity and objectivity that I have today is not what I had back then, so it's lacking severely in a lot of departments. The story would need to be rewritten completely to fit what I'd consider adequate today, which leads me to my second reason.

2) It takes so damn long to do. I am an incredibly slow artist already, burdened with neurodivergence, meaning that I get distracted and burned out so much more easier than other people. A single page could take anywhere from 6-12 hours to make, spread across several days because my ability to focus is akin to an eight year old ipad kid addicted to Cocomelon. I work six days a week and just don't have time to dedicate most of my life to something nobody really cared about anyway. When I was a teenage student? Yeah. When I was unemployed and seeking a job? Yeah. When quarantine was a thing? Yeah. But not right now.

I'm sorry if you were hoping for a positive answer but. Sometimes things just aren't meant to be and CC seems to be one of those things.

I'm still an artist, I draw nearly every day! But the content I focus on is marginally different from what CC is and also only posted in a private circle of friends. Now with the terror of AI scraping hanging above every real artist's head like the Sword of Damocles, I have no real interest in sharing my art publicly.

[neo-nomatrix]

HAWK TUAH !

jjk men during a bl0w!e

MULTIPLE X READER

-> GOJO, SUKUNA, CHOSO, GETO, NANAMI, TOJI

cw: bj stuff. cum play (kinda idk) rough characters. dirty talk. degradation. choking

GOJO SATORU AKA HEAD PUSHER

Soooo needy it’s insane. He’s so desperate to feel every inch of your soft warm mouth. he promises to let you do your thing but as soon as you wrap your lips around the tip his hands fly to your head and his hips snap. he’s muttering apologize as he pushes you down until your nose touches his skin. he throws his head back and moans open mouthed like a slut.

he’ll get so caught up in the moment he keep you down there for like 30 seconds just grinding his hips into your mouth. let’s you up when you pinch his thigh. you will be coughing and your face will be covered in spit by the end. he lovess facials and always rubs the cum in using his tip. he keeps a photo of you with his cock on your face and cum in your mouth as his wallpaper.

“s-shit baby… deeper, little more”

“you can take it, i know you can baby”

“just make me feel good okay?”

RYOMEN SUKUNA AKA THROAT DESTROYER

uhm yeah… what did you expect. does not give a shit about you when his cock is in your mouth. keeps you at the edge of the bed with your head hanging off and his fucking your mouth like a fleshlight. goes so deep his cock is showing in your throat. your gags make him want to go another round. plugs your nose when you’re deep throating so you can’t breath.

“until my jaw locks” yeah he took that as a challenge. loves tying you up with a low vibrator on your clit while he fucks that mouth as torture. you honestly don’t know if you love it or hate it. Sukuna loves it though, that’s for sure. cums deep in your throat, every time. will face fuck you again if he sees you didn’t swallow it all.

“fuck gag on that dick, bitch”

“i can see my cock in your throat! but who’s surprised?”

“you better swallow my seed… it’ll probably reach your stomach with how deep i am”

CHOSO KAMO AKA WHINY B!TCH

again, who’s surprised. he thought handjobs were great… but this? whole different level. you start but sucking on the tip until he’s sensitive. then you lick stripes up and down his veins. you use soo much spit and he loves it. he loves it when you press kisses to his cock and then deep throat it.

hes mesmerized by the way your head moves, the way your lips look. he has to force himself to not throw his head back so he can see you. one time he got ahead of himself and snapped his hips up and you choked on him, best day of his life. when he found out your throat felt like that? no going back. he begs you to deep throat him all the time.

“more… more more more. please baby!”

“remember how good i eat you out? please treat me good”

“i know it’s too deep! im sorry i can’t stop baby”

SUGURU GETO AKA NICE N SLOW

just into good old fashioned blowjobs. your hand kept at the base and your lips move up and down his shaft. he wants your tongue swirling over it like a lollipop. he brushes your hair out of your face to see your expressions. he’s so gentle and nice when it comes to blowjobs.

let’s you grind on his leg while you suck him off. mostly uses it as foreplay and not a main way to get off. likes for your spit to act as lube for him to slide in. if he was gonna cum from a bj it would be on your tits. he loves that.

“fuck keep that up and i’ll cum”

“let it get hard in your mouth… that’s right”

“don’t give me those innocent eyes, slut”

NANAMI KENTO AKA UNDER THE DESK

oh you’ll support your working man, from under the desk. he’s so stressed about work these days and you have just the solution! you showed up to his home office in skimpy lingerie and without saying a word you crawl under his desk and get to work. he gets so flustered so fast, blushing and stuttering about how his report is due.

grips the chair so tight when you start working your magic. he doesn’t want to thrust up because he knows he’ll bruise your throat. uses his belt to wrap around your neck and guide you instead. pulls your hair an insane amount. cums in your mouth but likes to watch it pour out onto your body.

���i’m working baby… you’ll get me too distracted”

“wrap that belt around your neck, be a good assistant”

“is this you saying thank you for being my sugar daddy?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO AKA TWO HANDS

he’s so big you need to use your hands or else he might pop out on the other side of your neck. you’re moving your hands and your mouth at a similar pace. he definitely teaches you how he wants it. he guides your head to a good rhythm and then lets you do your thing.

maybe he’ll have a cigarette hanging out his mouth when you suck it. blowing smoke in your face to tease you. definitely makes fun of the fact that you can’t take all of him. your jaw has to be open so wide to get him in. cums everywhere, your face, throat, tits. doesn’t matter, if it’s you he’ll cum there.

“don’t just move your hands up and down baby, turn em”

“your face looks so fucking small next to my dick!”

“c’mon, try harder to take it or else i’ll force you to”

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[lystring]

i love that just the thought of my upcoming birthday sends me into a depression spiral.

[suiana]

imagine rejecting a yandere! god and he gets all mad and petty so he curses your love life

so maybe you used to be a cleric or something that worshipped him and he decided to be silly and come down to earth in a more human form (still godly but less flamboyant). he was bored and what better thing to do than to meet up with his worshippers? especially you, his most devout and sweet little thing?

of course, he eventually fell for you and confessed his feelings. you're just so captivating after all.

"hey i really like you-"

"sorry, i am only meant for my lord and saviour☺️ we can still be friends."

"oh... that's not..."

yeah, he kinda forgot that you think he's joking about him being your god and stuff... oops...

whatever! you should've accepted him anyway! you'd break your vows for him wouldn't you?! apparently not.

yeah, so he decided to curse your love life becase he's petty like that and you wouldn't give him that time of day. wouldn't even entertain his delusions for a bit smh. how could you just leave a literal god heartbroken like that?

and just like that, your first life as a devout worshipper came to an end.

your next few lives were... rather tragic too.

all your lovers would randomly die, disappear, or leave just when things were getting good. it was infuriating and you were starting to think that the gods had something against you. well, more like a god had a thing for you but who cares right?

meanwhile, your petty and childish god was just watching over you from his abode. he really likes watching you. no, he's not a stalker. he's a god. there's a difference okayn gods can watch over humans like this! what? creepy? no he's not creepy! don't call him that!

he... also probably has a shrine and collection full of things from all your lives or something tbh. and no! it's mot creepy!

in any case, he didn't interfere in any of your lives directly up until your current life.

when you suddenly showed an interest in him again.

yes, after your first life you had also forgotten all about him. no, it wasn't a part of the curse he laid on you. it was probably just your soul getting revenge on him for cursing you. or... maybe it was because you were human. duh. unfortunately, your god has a peanut sized brain.

in your current life while reading on about mythology for your studies, you started gaining interest in him again.

"huh... god of... mischief? sounds like a real troublemaker."

you immediately moved on to another god after that.

and the god lets out an audible gasp.

how could you be so cruel? not even a, oh he was hot or something like that? just a simple he was a troublemaker???

also, he was not a troublemaker!

sure he might've meddled with your romantic partners and cursed your love life... and also caused some major disagreements in human history... but that's just a little bit of tomfoolery! a little bit of trolling if you will!

ugh! he's seriously getting mad again!

guess he'll have to come back to meet you in person to show you he means business this time.

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

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

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

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

Wordcount: 15.9k

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

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

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

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

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

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

Three months prior

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

“I am.”

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

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

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

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

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

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

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

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

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

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

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

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

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

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

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

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

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

“I’m not hungry.”

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

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re inside”, he says.

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?” 

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

“Very serious”, he rasps.

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

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

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

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

“My farce?”

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

“Did you even hear what I said?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir?” 

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

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

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

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

“She’ll get home safely.”

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

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

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

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

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

He pats him on the shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Check on me?”

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

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

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

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

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

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

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

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

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

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

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

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

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

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

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

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

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

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

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

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

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

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

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Flames are hot”, he says.

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

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

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

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

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

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

“What do you got?” you ask him.

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

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

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

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

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

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

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that��s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

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

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

“Already?”

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

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

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

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

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

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

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

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

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

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

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

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

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

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

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

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

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

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

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

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

“Understood. Over.”

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

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

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here all alone?”

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

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

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

“I can take care of myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump.

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

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

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

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

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

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

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

“I don’t…”

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

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

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

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

“Should we get dinner?”

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

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

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

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

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

“No.”

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

“Stop the car.”

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

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

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

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

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

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

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

Yoongi gulps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

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

“No, you-”

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

You turn your back to him and leave. 

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

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has always been mine as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It has always been his problem as well.

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

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

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

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

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

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

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

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

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apologies again.”

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

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

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We already have everything.”

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

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Sit. Down.”

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

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

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

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

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

“Shut up, Kim.”

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

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

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

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

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

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

“You don’t mean that.”

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

“Yes, there is.”

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

Bang!

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

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

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

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

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

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m-”

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

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

You nod your head.

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

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

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

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

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

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

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

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

You can hear them talk as you leave.

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

“Watch your tone.”

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

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

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

“Are you crying, Miss??”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“O…kay? I uhm…”

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

“Miss, are you okay?”

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

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

“V, what the fuck?”

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

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

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

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

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

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

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

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

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

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

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

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

“Two.”

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

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

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

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

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

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

“You’re drunk.” 

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

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

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

“You’ve always been important.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t do that.”

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

“You don’t mean that.”

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

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

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

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

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

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

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

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

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

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

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

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

“Yoon-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

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

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

“You’re so drunk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye-yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

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

“You were pathetic doing that.”

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

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

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

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

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

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

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

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

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

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

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

“You?”

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you promise me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

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

“Yeah”, you snicker.

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

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

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

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