#people will never do this for other cop characters

[unknown-cold]

Omg that's true!!

I'm so tired of these people saying Vi and Caitlyn's relationship is toxic, I mean literally the same thing she said Jinx and her relationship with Ekko wasn't good either and Jayce and Viktor too.

It is natural for problems and disagreements to occur in relationships, but it is not natural to think that a relationship will be peaceful and good all the time. These things only exist in Disney movies.

But apart from all that. Seriously guys hating on Vi or Caitlyn or both is way over the top. Like let's just imagine JUST IMAGINE, if Vi were male, the narrative surrounding her actions and character would change dramatically. She would likely be hailed as a "brother hero," a model of loyalty and kindness despite impossible circumstances. Her trauma, in prison, losing Vander, failing to save Jinx, and so on, would be sympathized with as a testament to her strength and determination.

Her status as the “bad sister” is undoubtedly tied to gender expectations. Women, especially older sisters, are often burdened with the role of caregiver, and are expected to be endlessly compassionate and self-sacrificing. Vi’s moments of anger, guilt, and mistakes, however, conflict with societal stereotypes of women as the natural “fixers” of emotional and familial conflicts. The fact that Vi is pigeonholed as the “bad sister” while Jinx is often seen as the tragic victim reflects deeper gender biases. Vi’s traumas and emotional wounds are ignored or minimized because she is expected to be the “strong one,” while Jinx is given sympathy and a more nuanced lens because her messiness and vulnerability fit into certain stereotypes of women who are broken or in need of saving.

It’s a frustrating double standard, and it underscores just how progressive Arcane is by refusing to fully give into those tropes. Vi’s character still shines as someone strong, flawed, and deeply human, but the criticisms she faces highlight how society treats female characters with such biases.

The misogyny is REAL and don’t think for a second that other women aren’t fully participating in that also. The amount of shit Vi gets for temporarily joining the Enforcers with Caitlyn to stop Jinx is insane. A male Vi would have been seen as a TORTURED HERO for joining up with the EVIL FORCES that took his parents away all so he could do HERO THINGS. But Vi does it? “Wah wah she joined the COPS she’s A TRAITOR THE REAL VI WOULD NEVER”. Like. Watch the show, my friends, and you will see she did what she thought was best and it was a very complex and very emotional decision for her; she hated every second of that uniform. But no, people shit on Vi and then complain like any of them could write a better show. Ugh.

And nobody would have hated a male Vi for having his love scene. Nobody. In fact, it would have been EXPECTED, but because Vi’s a woman, and a lesbian expressing her big gay love for her gorgeous gay lover, some people refuse to see her humanity and her growth as a person in that moment. I'm so tired

And the argument that we hate them because they did bad things is not true, I have seen people hate Caitlyn just because she is lesbian and one of them said if she was a straight woman I would have accepted her character on the show. Seriously this is someone who takes his criticism seriously, he forgot the story and everything in the show and focused on whether the characters are gay or straight or worse when I saw a comment from someone saying why are the main characters on the show female characters? Like is this an idiot or is he drug or what exactly? I think we should also ask, why do men always take the lead roles and when they are evil they are better, and if they are good they are also better, but if a woman comes along who is evil or wants to be evil or does just one mistake everyone hates her and she is the worst person in the world, but men are the only ones who deserve to play the role of evil and do bad things and we will sympathize with them and love them. THIS IS CRAZY!!

To understand what I'm saying more, compare Viktor's character and Caitlyn's character and you will see that Caitlyn was the character who was criticized the most even though she didn't kill anyone innocent and in the end she tried to fix things, while Viktor tried to kill all the people of Piltover and Zaun and didn't care about anyone, even his friend's pleas, he didn't care about them and Viktor thought that this was the solution but to end the conflicts between the two cities. But is there anyone who criticizes this, is there anyone who says that this is a bad act, of course not, yes you will see some people justifying it, as they did with Silco, the person who killed an entire family for control and drowned all of Zaun with shimmer and made the children work in dangerous factories, and there is not a single criticism, and people defend him even after Jinx's condition worsened, no they say that he is better than Caitlyn, my god like what the fuck!?

Then they tell you we don't hate women we don't hate gays or lesbians, just shut the fuck up, everything is clear, Arcane revealed to us that there are still people who are fanatic and traditional to the extreme who still want to see a man as the hero of the story and that all people and women should respect him even if he is evil and cruel he is always better than this bullshit, Arcane proved to us that it is possible for both sexes to appear in an excellent, strong and realistic way without insulting or belittling the other because these things are not useful and will not help in telling the story in any way.

Quick note I don't hate Jinx or Viktor and many of you who follow me know that I love Viktor very much but I will not deny the bad things he did and I am also really tired of the hypocrisy of some people and their constant criticism of other characters and characters. Just bc they say like these characters

Like I don't like Silco but have you ever seen me post every day criticizing Silco and Silco fans all the time or go to Silco fans and tell them if you like Silco then you support child labor and the drug trade and blah blah. Like they do with Caitlyn fans when one of them says he likes Caitlyn they accuse him of supporting collective punishment and corrupt governments and police brutality just because he likes a fictional character. I've never seen such stupidity and backwardness and bullshit in my life, just because I like a fictional character you think I will act like her in real life?? These people need to grow up seriously or find a job

[justjesse116]

Can I pester you for your thoughts on Dabi and Hawks' respective canon endings (if you haven't posted em somewhere already and I've just missed it)

Oh yeah, I did say I'd touch on that and sure never did huh. I got so fed up that I just ignored the ending and didn't feel like acknowledging it with a post anymore.

But I do have an answer for you. It's gonna be a long one, buckle up buttercup.

As for Dabi's 'end'.

Ah yes, fantastic message Horikoshi, if you're not a perfect victim and don't shrink away and make yourself small and hide away from your abuse/abuser - if you get mad and lash out then you should just fucking die. Your ABUSER gets a second chance, but you can just go fuck yourself.

(For a better understanding on how I feel about Dabi's story as a whole I got, what, 2 sentences in and had to pause because I'm sick as hell right now and a little fucked up on cold medicine, and I got so mad my hands started shaking and my heart tried to do it's best impression of a wildebeest stampede in my chest. (Emotional regulation who?))

Dabi is my ride or die, because I came from a home where my sperm donor terrorized me my whole life for the crime of being alive and having the gall to take after my mother. I have an unfortunately personal understanding of how he feels, at least in part, and his end in the story is what bothers me most, and will continue to do so.

Did he go about it the best way? No, I'm not a fan of the murder (arson I couldn't give 2 fucks about, destroy that government property babey) but I can't blame him for turning out the way he did. He went through literal hell and came out the other side torn apart physically and mentally. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about killing my sperm donor for all the ways he fucked me up every once in a while, so I can't blame him for that either. I think it's a natural reaction to want to eliminate a perceived threat, especially one as traumatizing as one of the people who are supposed to be guaranteed to love you turning on you the way Endeavor did.

But anyway, I'm rambling at this point so in a nutshell; FUCK Horikoshi and his wishy washy writing and bitchass cop out. The end to Dabi's story is insulting at best and harmful at worst. It's very obvious that he was over My Hero, since he bulldozed over anything that would resemble a satisfying ending in regards to multiple parts of the story, but his handling of Dabi as a character is the most egregious in my opinion. I have well and truly had enough of this man (derogatory).

So now I shall move on to the man, the myth, the legend, the love of my life - you get it. Hawks. And if I'm being honest I'm not very keen on his ending either.

First of all, what ever happened to giving heroes more time to kill?

Ahem. Excuse me, getting a little heated.

Fucking give me that man, he needs to be sat down in a plush fucking armchair, with a mug of actual coffee, not that canned shit, bundled in the softest blanket money can buy, just relaxing and reading or watching a show. LET THAT MAN REST. HIS ASS HAS NO BUSINESS BEING THE PRESIDENT OF AN ORGANIZATION THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABOLISHED AT THE END. THAT'S WHAT IT FELT LIKE HORIKOSHI WAS HINTING TOWARDS THE WHOLE TIME. GET RID OF THE HERO SYSTEM. BUT NOOOOO.

To be a little more coherent (hopefully) about it. It's not to say I don't think he could do it, I just think it was one fuck of a leap. That was some Olympic level stretching, at least in my opinion. I just think that man deserves to rest. He belongs in a quiet little house in the countryside and he has a part time job at like, a local farm or something and in his spare time he volunteers all over town and preferably Dabi is there as well 🙄. Give him peace and quiet, let him rest.

I honestly don't know what would have satisfied me canon wise for his ending, but HPSC president just ain't it. Again, I feel like it was Horikoshi catching the cooties for his own work; he just wanted to be done with it so he slapped together what he thought was the most likely of scenarios and just left it at that. In a word; disappointing.

I see a lot of people saying he should have died, because out of everyone of the heroes his death would have made the most sense and had the most meaning or whatever, and I can agree with that, but I'm still glad he's not dead. It absolutely is fucked up how disproportionate the deaths were when it comes to heroes vs villains, no one can deny that. But dammit I need a win, I need a fave who ain't dead.

I think that about wraps up my thoughts without me writing a god damn dissertation. Thanks for the ask, it was a nice distraction.

[epitaph-of-rebirth]

I'm super tired of how arcane fandom in general loves to simplify discussions to feel moral superior by hating Caitlyn and putting the blame on her for Zaun being oppressed since forever when actually her character is a allegory that ANYONE can do literal crimes if they are manipulated to believe they're actually doing the right thing (just like this fandom likes to send life threats to people who just enjoy some characters, because for them, this is what being good means :D)

No Caitlyn is not the super fascist cop like those like to make on arcane universe. She is a consequence of Piltovers mentality that Zaun is only made of criminals and bad people, she is someone who was born in privilege and never was able to see that poverty exists and as soon she realizes she is wrong, she tried to solve this and she tries always her best for the less harmfull solutions, we see that a LOT on season 1 and even season 2 we see her doing this.

Yes she used the gray and marshal law that are both violent actions with no excuses, those crimes she recognize herself more than once, this doesn't mean she did because she is a cruel person who hates Zaunites, she did because she believed by doing this was minimal damage, she believed this would SAVE LIFES, when compared to the other option: full invasion and war like, ALL OTHER PILTOVER CHARACTERS WANTED, SHE AND MEL WERE THE ONLY ONES AGAINST A WAR IN ZAUN.

Again doesnt mean is right, but still shows that she don't want innocents to be hurt or die, she still tried to make good even when she is actually making bad choices (people love this characteristics on villains like Silco but for some reason really hate on Caitlyn :D)

People always take out of context she saying "animals" when the memorial attack happen because they love to "forgot" that she is refering for those attacking the memorial and who literally tried to KILL HER in that MOMENT.

She is not saying every person from Zaun is an animal, Caitlyn always make clear the accountability of each person mistake and responsability, not only with others but also herself.

When the council is reuniting and Salo say that Zaun attacked, Mel corrects him by saying that CAITYN confirmed that actually was only ONE person, Jinx, and she made sure to make clear that Jinx herself WAS NOT in a good health mental state when doing it by adding the "deranged". She never calls Jinx, the murder of her own mom, an animal and even when she uses a negative conotation if about how Jinx is really not in a "good" mental state (again, she recognizes Jinx crime but also how the girl is influenced by her own mental issues).

Another thing that shows how Caitlyn even in her worst state is still trying to do good is how she never went after the firelights in neither act or with the marshal law. She KNEW where they base was, she KNEW they had their own agenda that could be against her, but she NEVER DID ANYTHING AGAINST THE FIRELIGHTS BECAUSE THEY ARE INNOCENTS TRYING TO HELP ZAUN.

They're not criminals, Catlyn KNOWS this, she knows that they help the community, if Caitlyn was the super bad person who hates Zaunites like everybody loves to scream, she would first go to the only place sustaining most of Zaun after the fall of Silco and the chaos the Chembarons left behind: the firelighs. But she don't do it.

Even when she allies with Singed she does because she wants to stop Warwick (Vander) from killing more, or did we forget the carnage he did in stillwater? yes he killed the asshole cop (loved that btw), but remember, no matter the side, for Caitlyn those are still LIFES LOST. People under her responsability who died because she couldn't do better (a burden she feels everytime she remembers her mother's dead) for her Singed was a monster who needed to be stopped but first she needed to find Warwick so he wouldn't kill more, because from what she knows, he was a weapon of mass killing. She didn't know he was Vi father, and as soon she learns that, she sides with Vi to help him and protect him instead.

Caitlyn always makes choices based on her her views of protecting life, thats literally why she shoots for.

This is already a very long so I wont be bringing other proofs of: "Cailtyn is not a demon and hate her and be ranting how terrible she is and making up crimes she didn't do, won't make you a good person"

If by the end of the day you still want to say that she is equivalent of mussolini or shit, just do it, I wont be here playing chess with a pigeon who just wants to shit on the table and not actually understand narratives and characters in a good faith.

[kryaaas]

The weird thing is that that people may say: hey guys its bad to villainize Harry for his mental illness and addiction

And some will go: "b- but! 🤓 isnt he a terrible person??" *inserts a bad thing harry has done*

Congratulations for missing the fucking point

[citrusai]

taash said "they were doing it" and people ran with the interpretation of an npc that doesn't know solas or the history of the elvhenan even when bellara interjected and said, no, that's not right. that's not how it was for the elvhenan. they formed bonds before they had physical bodies. and people ran to doompost or create weird anti-solavellan shit even though mythal & solas refer to each other as old friends and when she releases him there is no tenderness or love in it. it is the act of unchaining a dog from his post, the stepping down of a general. but to each their own ig.

[kacievvbbbb]

Honestly despite my feelings about how the last arc of MHA went down I really love Deku and his story.

I just feel like a lot of the time we get these protagonists whose whole philosophy is it doesn’t matter what you were born as everyone can achieve greatness. But then the series goes on and it turns out that actually it DOES matter because the protagonist has this really great lineage and these really great powers you can only have through birth they were actually born born, predestined if you will, to do this.

But MHA actually sticks to its guns. Midoriya wasn’t revealed to have some great connection to all might that the universe had put in place. He wasn’t defended from some great lineage that makes him uniquely suited to this. Hell All for one didn’t even turn out to be his father, there was no hidden powerful quirk he was always meant to have. He was just Midoriya Izuku a boy who was in the right place at the right time and simply decided to act while the world did nothing. And that’s what really made him a hero.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I believe him a bit more when he goes anybody can be a hero if you just decide to act

[mamawasatesttube]

you guys i have so many thoughts about tdr. i have so much to say. like i don't want to be super mean but dude that comic fucking sucks and i can't lie i think it made me kind of homophobic actually

[violentlydefending]

genuinely always so shocked to see mirei hate. like literally god forbid women do anything.

[m-feys]

that art of L deathnote got me thinking about death note and like......... im not even against l/light as a ship conceptually its just like i cant stand the way fandom does it.

like. theyre a lierally judas and jesus paralells theyre toxic. you have to be an L understander to get why he is obsessed with light and its not because he has this cute gay crush on him. and i REALLY dont get the people who like woobify light and make it so ‘kira’ is like a possession like???? thats not the point of any of this why are you even using these characters for this? it confuses me

but anyway i can support L/light ONLY if its done in a very specific way, thats very toxic and almost one-sided (or maybe unbalanced is a better word) not because Lights not interested (hes so like misogynist gay we all know this) in L but because he can NEVER understand L the way L understands him and thats all L wants is to be seen and to be on that level with someone. and thats the tragedy of their friendship is that L sees this person he can contend with and he can meet on his level but the same cannot be said for light. 

but anyway ive never seen anyone who ships l/light do it that way specifically so ill continue to be a hater.

[zombieslab]

the more time i spend in fandom spaces the more im convinced i just dont have the hater gene in me that most people seem to have. how do you even dislike a character thats not fucking. jimmy mouthwashing or smth. the closest i ever get is just being mildly annoyed i genuinely just do not understand how that works

[tenok]

.

[stressfulsloth]

You understand that Kim's perception of himself as a "good cop" is a character flaw that is meant to be questioned, yes? That he is a good man but equally he is petty and mean and embittered by years of living through the racism he experiences on the force and he takes that out on the people he's meant to serve and protect. Taking the jackets from Pissfaggot and Fuck the World? A cop grasping for a little bit of power in a situation where he feels powerless. He looks better in comparison to the other cops because they're terrible. He's a good man but a bad cop. The RCM, the power, the racism, the violence, is a dead weight hung around his neck pulling him down.

Harry's attempts at being a good cop are explicitly futile; he is working for an organisation that is killing him by inches, killing Martinaise, killing Jamrock. He can try and try to be better; people still die because of the inaction of the police. He's held up as a cop with a low kill record before the game. He still killed three people. The copness is a malicious consuming force for him. Why do you think he tried to flush his case papers down the toilet and sell his gun? He's chronically physically and mentally ill and his healthcare is tied into an organisation with a monopoly on legalized violence. He hates himself for leaning into the violence and he also can't escape it. His status as a police officer keeps him trapped in it, no matter how hard he tries to be a good cop, to emulate Dick Mullen, however warped his idea of that may be.

Disco Elysium never presents the idea of a good cop as a truth, a certainty. Only ever as a fun house mirror, a reflection of what we actually are given, distorted by layers of media and irony and the sheer impossibility of people responding well to that level of power. Revachol's cops are corrupt. They kill, they brag about it, they steal from homeless people, they sit idle while crimes- not even crimes but the extrajudicial execution of the union workers- are committed. Better than the worst of them does not mean good, does not mean justified. The RCM cops are like kids playing police based off what they saw on TV, with their nicknames and their quips and their laissez faire attitude towards the law applying to them. Perhaps they try to perform the role of good cops. But anything deeper than surface level will reveal that it is exactly that; a performance.

[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.

[convoloutedinjoke]

competitiveness and rules brain and mortal fear of becoming a disposable outsider going hand in hand in hand < ---------- is thinking about the loneliness again

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Me: I really like dc canon and frankly I think that fanon flanderizes the characters to the point where they are unrecognizable

Also me: Dick and Jason are drinking buddies,

Tim has put kon, Bernard and Steph in a gc called “the roster” and dipped.

Dick is not allowed to meet Barbara’s friends bc they all like him too much and then it’s rlly hard to bitch about him. (This is actually kinda canon thank u Dinah lance in birds of pray lmao)

The reverse of this is also true but for Dicks exes and Barbara like they get along TOO well.

Babs and Kori are friends.

Babs and Donna are sworn enemies. (Mutual)

Dick gets a different signature food with each of his siblings except Steph cuz they get smoothies. 

Dick keeps trying to get Steph and Donna to meet up but Everytime he tries Gotham gets blown up

Damian refuses to sneak pets in a trench coat bc it’s bad for them to be squished.

Duke is the only bat who knows about the mpreg joker story

Tim and Jason’s only texts to each other are “help” or “you lil shit what did you do!!?!”

Tim, Jason, Cass and Duke all like the discowing suit

Steph and Damian hate it

Damian says he’s spending the weekend not with his dad and everyone assumes Bruce and talia are trying split custody but he needs to bitch about Bruce so he goes to bludhaven

Donna and Dick get drunk together and get progressively more and more sappy about how they should move in together and how much they love each other, you’re amazing no you’re amazing.

Roy and Dick are besties who text like a divorced couple trying to coparent

Dicks exes are in a discord server called “raw. next question” and they have channels called “red heads only” “also dated his brother” “tried to kill him” etc

The redheads don’t have names in this discord “redhead 1” “red head 2” “redhead 3” and so on

They also don’t discuss dick in this server at all

Bruce calls dick for ideas about the Brucie Wayne persona and also when he just doesn’t get why people are mad at him.

Dick calls wally for help with menial tasks

Tim is a big big big fan of THC (same)

Dick goes to raves

Jason is actually the DARE Robin

An image of Dick at a rave went viral on Twitter and Bruce had a mental breakdown so did Jason

Stephanie will never ask Bruce for anything but she buys a 10$ coffee every morning on his card bc of that video of people saying young people can’t buy houses bc of Starbucks and avocado toast.

Jason has a video of 19 yr old Dick spitting at a police officer and he sent it on the family gc when he found out dick went undercover as a cop. It is one of 5 messages he has sent.

Everyone of the Bats is some shade of bisexual

Dicks house is the defacto Bruce is being a lil bitch for the bats and literally everyone who is affiliated with Bruce as long as you bring liquor you’re welcome

Garth and Dick watch sad movies together

Tim and Bruce watch all the bond films together

Damian and Dick watch bird documentaries together

Jason doesn’t watch tv bc he’s a secret hipster (he doesn’t have a tv they keep blowing up.)

Linda has absolutely asked Dick to swing with her and Wally and Dick told Wally about this and Wally’s only reaction was…”soooo is that a yesss or a no?”

The fab 5 titans all hate each others exes, refuse to acknowledge any guilt their friend had in the matter , and will absolutely pretend none of them have dated (they have all dated)

Bruce is in absolute denial that his children date. Like he knows dick has dated people but he assumes that it is kindergarten dating “ah dick spent the night at Barbara’s they must really like holding hands” “Bernard and Tim are moving so fast I mean I saw one of them kiss the other on the cheek??” Meanwhile he has traumatized all robins to ever Robin bc him and Selina Kyle can’t keep their hands right themselves

Also me: cognitive dissonance thank you for your service

Dick has like 25million ig followers, donna does his photos

Tim has a very popular shitpost account on Twitter from his pre Robin days that has statements like “if i was Batman I would simply barricade Arkham” and “stalking Nightwing rn we are up to 120 flips and 30 quips…. There is no else here”

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 3/?)

The fire consumes everything it touches, turning what was into ashes. Curiously, Silco also leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, creampie, blood and violence, biting, threat of death, choking, canon-typical Silco violence, death of secondary characters being referenced, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut). Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2

Pay attention to the tags. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or explicitly intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Once again: this is NOT a fluffy romance. Our protagonist has her own issues, and to be clear, while there are violent themes, Silco would never harm his dove. You have been warned—proceed at your own risk.

"I heard that Silco seems to be sponsoring a prostitute."

The bottle on its way to your lips stopped midway. Kate's words echoed like thunder, even though they had been spoken in an almost murmured tone. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for a sentence like that, not even the most horrible, bitter drink Zaun had to offer.

Beside you, Kate seemed almost uncomfortable. There was no accusation in her voice, but something about her tone overflowed with sadness, perhaps even anguish. The kind of look that made it clear she already knew the answer even before making the statement. She still insisted on visiting you, despite the apparent control Silco had over the brothel.

The brothel, which until two months ago had been your refuge—a place where the outside world and all its horrors were muffled by artificial lights and drunken laughter—now felt more like a prison. A suffocating space filled with glances you didn't want to interpret. That's why, on the night Kate showed up, you suggested going somewhere else. Somewhere Silco's shadow didn't hang over you.

Vander's statue was a landmark. For many, it symbolized the resistance and hope that had long since vanished. A kind of silent guardian of Zaun, a reminder of better days. Some people even wished the metal structure would come to life, that Vander would return to protect his people. But to you, that monument meant something deeper. Vander had saved you once. You'd made a promise to him—a promise you had yet to fulfill.

"Yeah... I heard about it."

"It's you, isn't it?" Kate shot back immediately. Her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a confirmation rather than an accusation.

You couldn't look at her. The thought of being called Silco's prostitute made something inside you churn, heavy as lead. Dealing with him in the privacy of a room was one thing, but carrying that title... it made you feel dirty in a way no amount of long baths could wash away.

"How did you find out?"

Kate sighed, fiddling with the ballerina pendant on her necklace. She always did that as a way to calm herself, an almost involuntary motion. "I did my research."

"You should've been a cop, not a designer." you tried to joke, but the humor fell flat, hanging in the air with no response, no laughter. Kate didn't take the bait. She simply said your name, with a sweetness that hurt, like she was trying to soothe a wounded animal. Reluctantly, you finally looked at her. That's when you noticed the worry etched into her green eyes, a worry you didn't feel you deserved.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice hoarse, almost harsh. "It could be worse. Silco could've just kidnapped me."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still in danger."

You let out a low grumble, almost childish, like a petulant kid trying to dodge a scolding. She was right, but you preferred to live in ignorance.

"If I figured out who the 'prostitute' was, others can too. And if the chemical barons realize Silco has any interest in you, they'll try to use you to get to him."

"I know how to protect myself, Kate."

"From pickpockets and creeps, maybe. Not from assassins."

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

The words escaped your mouth with force, your voice laced with irritation, hitting a sharper tone than you'd usually use with her. You stood from where you'd been sitting at the foot of Vander's statue, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. But, if you were honest with yourself, the idea that you still had control was a cruel joke. Overnight, your life had taken a turn you hadn't planned for—or asked for. To say you were angry would've been a massive understatement. And now Kate was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"Come with me to Piltover."

Her voice was firm, serious, but there was something more. A kind of unshakable hope glimmered in her green eyes as they locked onto yours, as if she could see something you couldn't. And there was something else... something that made your stomach twist. Affection. "Alright, so the place I'm staying in is the size of a shoebox," Kate continued, a small, awkward smile appearing on her lips, "But we can make it work together. Silco has no power in Piltover."

Those words. That tone. That damn hope. They doused your anger like a bucket of ice water. What remained was pure, raw shock as you stared into her emerald eyes. You saw it. The resolve. The conviction. And damn it, she was willing to risk everything... for you. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she kept coming back, even knowing the risk. Even indirectly challenging Silco. Because, in her mind, you were worth it.

Kate spoke your name again when she noticed your mind wandering for too long, her tone sweet as honey. "Please, come with me."

At some point, the lines had blurred for Kate, and considering Silco's actions, this practically put her neck on a silver platter. Bile rose in your throat, and you wanted to vomit.

"It's better if we don't see each other anymore." your voice came out dry, cutting. The tone was rehearsed, even if you hadn't prepared these words. You took a step back, putting space between the two of you. "Whatever you think we have, it's nothing more than professional."

Kate's eyes widened, shock written across her face as if you'd slapped her. The pain that followed nearly made you falter, but you pressed on. You had to, for her sake.

"I can't believe you're naive enough to think I feel something for you, let alone want to run away."

"What?" Kate whispered, her voice barely audible, but you saw it. You saw her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I pity you." your voice was a venomous whisper. "Falling for a prostitute? Seriously? Kate, I expected better from you."

"Why are you acting like this?" her voice trembled, heavy with pain. "This isn't you."

"What do you know about me?" you shot back, your voice as sharp as shattered glass. "Oh, come on, sweetheart... it was all an act. Did you really think I cared? It was in my best interest to keep some naive girl paying my way. All I had to do was say a few sweet words."

She called your name again, her voice breaking, a final, desperate attempt to pull you back from the edge. A futile attempt.

"But now I don't need you anymore."

You saw it. The exact moment the first tear slipped from her eyes, just before Kate turned and ran. Without another word. Without looking back.

You stood there, motionless, like an extension of Vander's statue. Frozen. Empty. Guilt weighed on your shoulders like lead, but you didn't allow yourself to feel anything beyond the void. If Silco was horrible, you were a monster. Maybe that's what you deserved. Maybe, in the end, you and he were cut from the same cloth.

But your self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Breaking hearts, are we?" Silco's voice resonated in your ears, low and dripping with acidic humor. "And here I thought you were the merciful one."

The surprise lasted only a second when you heard his voice—low, laden with that familiar arrogance that made the air around you feel heavier. For a moment, you almost believed it was just in your head, a ghost of guilt or confusion tormenting you. But a single glance was enough to confirm it wasn't your imagination. Of course not. It was obvious Silco would know where to find you.

Especially since you'd abandoned the brothel in the middle of your shift. Someone had likely informed him that his latest acquisition had walked out unexpectedly.

The scent of burnt tobacco hit you before you fully saw him, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to control the surge of emotions bubbling up inside you. Anger, frustration, maybe even a touch of resignation. You inhaled deeply, as if the tobacco in the air could numb whatever was consuming you. But it was futile.

The bottle was still in your hand—a bitter consolation. You lifted it to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. The mediocre alcohol was doing its job but was nowhere near enough to drown out the chaos in your head.

"How long have you been spying on us?" your voice came out calmer than you'd expected, a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

It was impressive, even to yourself. You should've been furious; after all, everything in your life had started crumbling because of him. Because of his manipulations, the insidious control he wielded over everyone and everything around him. The last month had been hell, and Silco had been the chief architect of your downfall.

And yet, here you were. Talking to him. Not smashing the bottle over his head.

"Long enough to understand what you're trying to do." he finally said. His voice was calm, but it carried an undertone of subtle disdain, as if the situation were almost amusing to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco move slowly, leaning against the base of Vander's statue. He crossed one ankle over the other, assuming a relaxed posture that seemed devoid of any threat. But you knew better. Beneath the casual façade, there was an almost palpable tension, like that of a snake ready to strike at any moment.

"Driving her away, keeping her safe... all so I have no reason to go after her." he continued, his eyes boring into your back, savoring each syllable in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "Such nobility on your part. A shame it's all for nothing."

The words hung in the air between you, as dense as the cigar smoke swirling around him. You wanted to retort, but your throat went dry, the words catching somewhere between pride and fear. He knew. He knew exactly what you were doing. And worse, he seemed to find it amusing.

Without warning, he pushed off the statue and took a step toward you, closing the already narrow gap between you. Your heart leapt in your chest, but you stayed rooted to the spot, your hands gripping the neck of the bottle, channeling your fury into the inanimate object.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Drinking won't make it go away." he said, his voice now almost gentle. Almost. The soft tone only made the harshness of his words cut deeper.

You barely had time to process the emotions boiling within you when Silco reached out and took the bottle from your grasp. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your fingers stretching out in a nearly desperate attempt to reclaim it. But he held it out of your reach with an ease that made your blood boil.

Your gaze locked onto his, and like a thread on the verge of snapping, you finally broke. It was as if everything you'd been holding back had been unleashed all at once, a storm of emotions sweeping away any control you had left. Before you could even think about the consequences, your body had already made the decision.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space, the liquid spilling onto the floor in a dense pool alongside the faint clatter of the cigar falling. A small fire ignited mere inches from your feet. It was that sound, along with the smell of smoke, that finally pulled you back to reality.

Your arm was raised, caught firmly in Silco's grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrist with enough force to stop you but not to hurt. You realized just how close you were to his face—mere centimeters away from striking him.

And that's when you saw it: his face. For the first time, Silco looked genuinely surprised, frozen in place. His good eye was wide, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. It was almost impossible to imagine a man like him with such an expression. But the moment didn't last. Like a mask falling and quickly being replaced, his expression shifted in an instant. The shock gave way to his familiar façade of coldness and absolute control.

You, however, didn't back down. There was no regret in your eyes, no hesitation in your movements. Your emotions were a haze, but you kept them locked behind a hardened, defiant expression.

"Leave her out of this, Silco!" you said, your voice low but carrying a weight that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were laden with something you couldn't quite name—anger, sorrow, perhaps something deeper. "I'm the one you want? Well, here I am, right in front of you."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the space between you. Silco didn't respond immediately, but his eyes didn't leave yours, as if he were analyzing every nuance of your expression. Searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe fear.

In a swift, precise movement, he pulled you forward, erasing the distance between you until your body was pressed against his. The heat radiating from you was palpable, even through the layers of clothing, and the subtle scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume filled his senses, igniting something you couldn't quite interpret.

His other hand moved just as firmly, gripping your chin with enough force that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The touch was almost rough, a blend of control and anger that reverberated through you down to your bones. Silco's mismatched eyes burned with a fierce intensity, so piercing it seemed impossible to look away.

"Don't test me." he growled, his voice low and laced with latent danger. "My patience has its limits."

And then, with calculated abruptness, he let you go. The movement was so sudden that you almost stumbled backward. He stepped away, creating space between you as if he needed to regain composure, though his arrogant demeanor remained intact.

"What are you going to do?" your head tilted slightly to the side, your tone laden with challenge. "Kill me?"

You weren't naive. His threats weren't empty words. You knew Silco was holding himself back—why exactly, you weren't sure. Perhaps it was the mounting tension between you, an invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to something as destructive as it was inevitable. Anyone else who dared to attack him would have already lost an arm, or worse.

And yet, you didn't back down.

"Or maybe with me, it's different." your voice dropped to a sharp whisper as you took another step forward, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "Because you know, Silco, that no matter how much you threaten me, I doubt you have the guts to actually do anything to me."

Silco's eyes narrowed at your words.

"You think you know me, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with disdain. "You think you understand what I want, what I'm capable of."

"Then tell me if I'm wrong."

It was you who closed the distance between the two of you, ignoring the crunch of glass shards beneath your feet with each step or even the crackling fire nearby. The phantom of his grip still burned on your wrist, but you didn't rub it. You wouldn't show weakness—not now.

Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready to strike, but he didn't move. He didn't raise a hand to push you away, nor did he take a step back. Instead, he let you approach, let you bridge the gap until you were so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

"You're right. With you, things are... different." he admitted, his voice now almost regretful, as though confessing something he hated to admit even to himself. "But don't be mistaken. I'm still the man who built an empire on blood and fear, and I wouldn't hesitate to remind you of that if necessary."

The shadows cast by the light made Silco's silhouette even more intimidating. His orange eye seemed to pierce into your very soul, devouring you, like staring into the abyss and having it stare back.

"Go home." his face was mere inches from yours, close enough for you to see every line, every scar etched into his marked skin. He was trying to maintain composure; that much was clear. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You raised your chin, your body radiating a fierce pride that defied any implicit threat in Silco's words. Any sense of self-preservation had already been smothered by the chaotic mix of emotions boiling inside you: burning anger over Kate's situation, frustration with Silco's manipulations, and, above all, the overwhelming attraction clouding your judgment.

You knew you were tempting fate at this point, provoking the beast, pushing Silco to a dangerous edge. But honestly? You didn't care. Maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted to see how far he would go, how much he could tolerate your words before finally losing control.

"I didn't think a simple fuck would destabilize the great Eye of Zaun this much." your voice dripped with sweet venom, every word as sharp as a blade. You saw the muscle in Silco's jaw tighten, and it only fueled your audacity, like pouring gasoline on a fire. "A whore was enough to make you lose your grip... how pathetic."

The words came out drenched in scorn, and you savored every syllable as though you were exposing an open wound, pouring salt on it with relish.

You barely had time to react before you were slammed against the wall, the cold surface digging into your back with force. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could even try to recover, Silco's hand was at your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of panic coursing through your entire body. Your mouth opened instinctively, searching for the little air you could manage to pull in, your chest rising and falling in short, desperate movements.

Your hands shot upward, but not to fight him—you knew that would be useless. Instead, you grasped his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin with force, your nails leaving small marks. The touch was deliberate, as if trying to remind him that you would still fight back, even if the odds weren't in your favor.

"You want to know what's pathetic?" he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. "You." his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point on your neck, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath your skin. "I could snap your pretty neck and leave your body here for the rats to feast on."

The words were cold, cutting like steel against your skin, but there was something else beneath them. A suffocating heat seemed to hang between you, an almost palpable field of tension. It was dark, twisted—a desire that seemed to want to consume you both. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, a suffocating dance of anger and something more, something neither of you was willing to admit.

"Keep talking." he murmured, his voice dripping with dangerous, lascivious undertones. "I want to hear what insults that pretty mouth of yours will throw at me."

Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way. The initial fear that had tensed your muscles began to shift, the adrenaline coursing through you dulling the pain and heightening every sensation. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing like a warning of how precariously your life hung in his grip. But it wasn't just fear making your heart race—it was him.

Silco was close. Too close. His body practically covered yours in that position. His scent filled your senses, erasing any remnants of rational thought. His eyes burned into yours, that hypnotizing contrast—one eye filled with the intensity of anger, the other an empty abyss, equally devastating.

And then you saw it in those piercing mismatched irises. Hidden beneath the anger. An unmistakable flicker of desire. It was raw, overwhelming, and dangerously familiar. You recognized it because you felt the same. Your body seemed to plead against your will, the proximity igniting something dark and unspoken between you.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out in a rough whisper before you could stop them.

"I hate you."

Your voice broke, but not from weakness. There was weight in it, a hatred so dense it seemed to poison the air around you—a hatred for everything he was and for everything he made you feel. A hatred for him, but perhaps an even deeper hatred for yourself, for wanting him despite knowing how wrong it was. You hated him. You wanted him. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell where one feeling ended and the other began.

Silco's fingers tightened around your throat just enough to send another wave of alarm through your body. His eyes—those mismatched irises that burned with something dark and ravenous—studied you intently. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, revealing the jagged edges of his teeth, a threat and a twisted invitation all at once.

"I know you do, dove."

He leaned in closer, the distance between you shrinking until his nose brushed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scarce space separating your lips. Silco's free hand moved upward, gripping your jaw firmly, though his thumb traced the delicate line of your cheekbone with an almost cruel gentleness. It was a stark contrast to the strength of his grip around your throat, and that duality sent heat coursing through your veins.

He pressed his body even closer against yours, pinning you completely against the cold wall, as if he wanted to crush you there, as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to escape—as if you belonged to him. Every inch of his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. You felt the weight of his thigh shift, sliding between your legs and applying an unrelenting pressure that stole any breath you had left in your lungs.

And then he claimed your lips.

It was a shock—a collision as overwhelming as the shove against the wall. His lips crashed into yours with a force that shattered any remnants of resistance you might have had. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was raw, primal, a clash of teeth, tongue, and desire that had been restrained for far too long. He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you, as if every part of you needed to be consumed until there was nothing left but him.

You tried to regain control, but there was no space for it. He allowed no room for anything but his all-encompassing presence, the way he took everything you were, claiming the right to possess every piece of you. His fingers around your throat tightened—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you aware of his power, enough to make you feel it.

His touch was possessive, almost as if he were branding you, inscribing his presence onto you in a way that no one else could erase. And as he deepened the kiss, you realized, with a mix of anger and fascination, that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Your hands, which had been gripping his wrists in a desperate gesture, slid downward to clutch at the rough fabric of his vest. You pulled him closer, ignoring the pain that radiated through your body. There was something strangely comforting in the brutality of his touch.

The kiss wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a collision of wills, a clash of searing fury and uncontrollable desire. It was a war with no victors, only the promise of mutual destruction. You matched his every advance with equal intensity, every bite and scratch an attempt to wound him, to leave your mark on him just as he was leaving his on you.

It was twisted, and you knew it. The hatred you felt for him was intoxicating, burning inside you like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. But what was worse—and you hated to admit it—was the fact that a part of you wanted this. You found a strange solace in the shared violence, as though, in some perverse way, it was the only truth between you. This contained violence was a language you both understood perfectly.

Your teeth sank into his lip with force, and the metallic taste of blood spread between you before he finally pulled back. "You don't own me." you whispered breathlessly, resting your forehead against his.

His hand slid down, gripping your thigh with bruising strength as he hitched it up to his waist. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against you, a visceral reminder of how much he wanted you. Silco pressed his body even closer to yours, the cold wall at your back seeming to vanish against the searing heat of him in front of you.

"Not yet, dove. Not yet."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco chuckled darkly at her feeble attempt to slap him again, his eyes glinting with humor as he once again grabbed her wrist. However, he released her grip without much resistance, watching curiously as her hands slid downward once they were free. He reveled in the way her hands shook as she fumbled with the clasps on his pants, anger and desperation rolling off her in waves and clouding her ability to complete a simple action that she could do even with her eyes closed.

He grabbed her hands, stilling their movements. With deliberate slowness, he guided them to the fastenings of his trousers, showing her how to undo the clasps and zippers. His hands covered hers, helping her slide the fabric down enough to free him, revealing the hard length of him, already straining towards her.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her fingers brush against him, the slightest touch sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock throbbing with need. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

But first, he had other plans. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the wall, the rough brick scraping against her back. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, revealing the lacy edge of her stockings.

"Look at you," his mocking tone, as if he were not equally thirsty. "So desperate for it, so needy. You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"

He rocked his hips forward, grinding his hardness against her core dress. The friction made them both gasp, pleasure sparking through their veins. Silco's hands slid higher, cupping her ass, kneading the firm flesh.

"I should make you beg for it." the whisper left his lips, his breath hot against her ear. But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. He was too far gone, too consumed by the need to have her. Right there, at that exact second.

"Don't you dare." her voice tried to be threatening, Silco realized, but at that moment her threat sounded more like a plea than anything else. "Otherwise I..."

"Otherwise, what? You are not in a position to make demands."

Despite his words, she did what she always did. She ignored him. Her eyes rolled back with a boldness only she could muster as she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to wet each one before returning them back down. She fingered him, spitting, with some difficulty due to the awkward angle. Silco's head fell forward, falling onto her shoulder as she continued to pump him. His hands returned to her thighs, adjusting his grip to keep them steady. Then when she adjusted him against her entrance, Silco couldn't help but hold his breath.

The sensation was almost too much to bear, the tight grip of her walls around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as she sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch. For God's sake, how he missed that.

But even as his body reveled in the feel of her, his mind was racing with dark thoughts. This wasn't lovemaking, not by a long shot. This was a fuck, plain and simple, a coming together of two people driven by anger and lust and a desperate need to hurt each other. It was twisted and wrong and so fucking good that it terrified him.

His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto him, burying himself as deep as he could go. The angle was brutal, almost painful, but it only served to fuel the fire raging inside him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her cry out. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the dark hunger that consumed them both. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her writhe, that had her clawing at his clothes and screaming his name.

"Mine." his voice murmured, more to himself than to her. It wasn't a statement of possession meant to irritate her, since she seemed so absorbed in her own pleasure that she didn't even notice the words leaving his lips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. Silco could feel her body tensing above him, could hear the way her breath hitched in her throat as she neared her peak. The knowledge that he was the one pushing her to this point, that he was the one making her lose control, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to break her, to shatter her in a way that only he could, so, remake her in his image.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would be an almost impossible task. She would never give in to him. Not easily. She was too wild, too defiant, too stubborn to be tamed. And God help him, but that was what attracted him. That fire, that passion, that refusal to submit even in the face of his worst brutality. It called to something deep within him, something he'd thought long dead.

That's why he wanted to try. Someone who had been a revolutionary was anything but someone who gave up easily.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes boring into hers with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. It unsettled him, the way she looked at him, like he was her salvation and her damnation all rolled into one.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He bit down hard, leaving a bruise in the shape of his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the salt of her sweat. It was a heady combination, one that made his head spin and his cock throb with need.

And then she was coming, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles pushing him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a moment, they were frozen in place, their bodies locked together in the aftermath of their release. Silco could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as she tried to catch her breath. And for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this, to wake up next to her and see her sleep-tousled hair spread out on the pillow.

Well, if everything went the way he planned he would see this scene.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ 

The post-climax sensation that always followed those moments left you vulnerable, as if every layer of yourself had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and defenseless. This time was no different, though the intensity was greater. It had been quick, physical—an explosion of mutual rage converted into something far more primal.

Your body ached, especially your back. The constant friction against the rough wall during the act had taken its toll. And yet, there was no regret. You had wanted it—the brutality, the intensity, the force. Silco's body also bore the signs of weariness; you could feel it in the way he leaned against the wall, seeking support for both himself and for you. His arms still held you, firm but no longer tense—just enough to keep you close.

His arms tightened around your waist for a moment, holding you firmly against him as if trying to prolong the contact, before slowly lowering you back to the ground. Even then, he kept one arm around your waist, his open hand pressed against the curve of your lower back, steadying you until the trembling in your legs subsided. No words were spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, you began adjusting your clothes. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though your mind had shut off, unable to process what had just happened. Across from you, Silco did the same.

Without the sexual intensity or the anger that had dominated the air minutes ago, the silence now felt even heavier. A kind of emptiness that made room for dangerous thoughts to take shape in your mind. But you didn't want to think. Not now. Thinking meant facing the consequences, and you simply didn't have the strength to deal with that yet.

You turned to face him. Silco, as always, seemed ready to say something. But before he could open his mouth, before he could release a single word or give you that smug smile that always made your blood boil, you struck him.

Your slap wasn't as strong as you wanted—it was all your exhausted body could muster—but it was enough. Silco froze for a moment, his eyes widening more from surprise than pain, but he said nothing. He didn't react. And somehow, that infuriated you even more.

Without waiting for a response or reaction, you turned and walked away.

[...]

The following days passed. The path to the brothel, the routine, the people you crossed paths with—it all seemed normal, yet strangely distant. Neither Kate nor Silco appeared, and you were grateful for that. Still, the peace was an illusion. Your mind offered no respite, replaying the memories of that night every time you closed your eyes. The touch, the anger, the desire, and, finally, the emptiness—it all returned like a silent torment.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the movement around you. It was a physical jolt—a body colliding hard against yours—that finally pulled you from your trance. The impact was so abrupt that you nearly fell.

"Hey!" you snapped, irritated, but the person was already gone, running into the growing crowd around you. It was only then that you realized something was wrong. Urgent, desperate voices overlapped around you.

"A house is on fire!" someone shouted, the phrase ringing out like an alarm. "Hurry!"

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Your legs began running, following the crowd heading in the same direction. As you turned the corner, the chaos came into full view.

The flames danced wildly, consuming the modest building like ravenous predators. Thick smoke filled the air, burning your nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe. People ran back and forth, some coughing, others carrying buckets of water in a frantic attempt to contain the fire. Children cried as adults tried to organize some form of aid. It was pure chaos—stifling and inescapable.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes locked on the fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. But then, another jolt brought you back—this time, more deliberate.

When you turned, you found a figure that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding chaos. She was tall and muscular, with an imposing presence. The red cloak she wore draped over her shoulders, concealing her left arm in an almost calculated way. She wasn't looking at the fire—she was looking at you.

"Silco sends his regards." before you could react, she dropped something to the ground.

Your breath hitched. The world spun. Pain bloomed in your chest, spreading like poison as realization set in. A necklace with a ballerina pendant. You knew that necklace.

And it was covered in blood. Part 4

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