#this idea has haunted me for a while now so i finally decided to just sit down and make it

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

cards from charlotte's art history tarot – major arcana // Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus – Taylor Swift

[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.

[charlottecutepie]

｡ꪆৎ ˚ Bully (Michael Afton x fem!reader)

while I'm writing fics with William (and making some people’s requests!), i decided to post Michael smut bc there’s lack of content about this boy :)

summary: you're mad at both Simon and Michael for not helping you with project. But guys only mock you, saying stupid jokes about your ex. Wait, was it you or Michael’s voice sounded rather… jealous?

tags: Michael is jealous and kind of possessive, bully!Mike, mention of break up, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, kind of rough sex?? (Michael can’t control himself), William Afton mentioned

"Stop smoking." in a loud, angry tone, you tell to a couple of guys beside. One of them turns around and blows smoke right in your face, laughing. "Fuck you, Simon."

"Don't tell me what to do, tuts," Simon frowns and leans against his friend Michael, who was busy reading comics, not paying attention to you. "You've been too nervous and angry lately." guy notices. "Is it because of your ex?"

"Of course, no dick and she's all worked up." Michael adds fuel to the fire without even bothering to turn to you. However, his back stiffened.

"What are you talking about? What does this have to do here? We have a fucking project together and I'm only one doing something, that's why I'm mad at you!"

Simon didn't answer because he just didn't know what to say. You were right. He and Michael didn't do shit, only you worked on the task. Simon just gave you a blank look, raising his eyebrows mockingly. There was a rage boiling inside you that almost made your face turn red.

"Ran after him like a tail." Michael lets out a strangled laugh, finally turning to you, his fingers clutching the comic. "You really loved that boy so much, didn't you?"

Now it's your turn to shut up. Insults and obscenities rise in your throat, threatening to jump out. Michael's face didn't flinch for a second as he continued to pierce you with blue eyes, as if trying to make you uncomfortable, which was puzzling. Michael has always been like this: aggressive, with cruel and stupid jokes, cheeky taunts. But why do his words sound like he's jealous now? Why so much attention to your personal life?

"You two are completely useless, I'll have to ask teacher to pair me with other students." you sigh, putting all your notes, notebooks, sunglasses in your bag, and the next second you leave both guys behind.

Their behavior, especially Simon, who was like Michael's faithful dog, doing everything just to get approval from its owner, infuriated and caused indignation. But more than that, you were hurt their comments about your personal life. Your ex has nothing to do with it.

You go back to school walking through empty corridors since classes have already ended. Of course, you'd have been home a long time ago, too, but thanks to a couple of jerks, you're stuck here until tonight. You angrily punch Michael's school locker, ripping off the poster of his favorite rock band.

"Fuck you, Michael Afton!" you swear, crumpling the poster in your hands and throwing it on the floor.

You had no idea that someone was following you slowly and carefully through the corridors.

Upset and frustrated, you enter lady's bathroom, go to the mirror and look at yourself carefully. Why, you think, he broke up with me? What happened between us?

You straighten your hair, carefully laying it on your shoulders, without interrupting eye contact with your reflection. You need to push these thoughts away, now is not the best time for self-reflection, you need to gather your strength and finish this damn project.

You try to find something in your bag as you take out a lip gloss from your makeup bag. And again feeling of sadness and longing comes through. Now it feels wrong and hurtful whenever you look at that gloss. Your boyfriend always liked it when you applied it. And now it's a painful reminder that will haunt you for a long time. It's just not fair.

Just when you're about to throw that lip gloss in the trash, someone comes into the bathroom. You think it's another girl, so you don't pay attention.

"It was my favorite poster." Michael's voice is slightly angry. An unpleasant surprise is reflected on your face as you turn to him, pressing lip gloss to your chest. This is definitely not what you expected to see in the women's bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" you hiss at Afton, looking him up and down. "You've been following me?"

"Knowing what a crybaby you are, it was the right decision." Michael shoves his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, leaning against the wall. "What if you went to hang yourself? And then Simon and I would be accused of driving to suicide."

"Stop your idiotic jokes at least now! Can't you see that I feel too bad?" you grit your teeth and frown. Your voice sounds offended. Michael's behavior has always been infuriating, but now it crosses all boundaries.

"My father taught me that if a girl is upset, she needs to be supported. That's how all gentlemen behave." the young man says with a sneer.

"Fuck you and your dad, Mike," you shout. "you're just like him, you selfish jerk!"

"Mmm," Michael nods, grinning. "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

You are silent again, not knowing what to say to this insolence. Does Afton really think that in eyes of other people, he's all cool and cocky? Doesn't he realize how stupid his behavior is? Yes, he is certainly a copy of his dad, Mr. Afton, but with a slight difference. The last one has at least some brains.

"My eyes are up here, honey," Michael grins, noticing your gaze. You blink in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"I didn't even look there, you idiot." you fold your arms over your chest and turn away, lifting your chin. That's when Michael pushes you against the wall, towering over you.

"Sure." he can't help but smile stupidly. "I must say, you have beautiful eyes, princess. That's what he called you, right?" there was something wrong with Michael's intonation, even this mockery sounded like he wanted to hurt not you, but himself. There was definitely a hint of jealousy in the young man's tone, although you didn't pay attention to it.

With every action and word of Michael, anger grows inside you, which has been accumulating all this time. And then the mixture of all the negative emotions finally reaches the top. You can't get over how much of an asshole Michael is. You'd do anything to shut him up, just to show him his place. But it doesn't take much time, the anger breaks out. Putting the lip gloss back in the bag, you raise your hand and slap Michael hard in the face.

Afton's cheek burns from your blow, it hurts unpleasantly so it takes him a couple of seconds to come to his senses, then he raises his head at you. His hand instantly reaches for the red mark, stroking it to ease the pain. Yes, it was insulting, even a little humiliating, but again he hides it behind an arrogant and satisfied grin.

However, his next words are strangely surprising.

"You know what?" Michael says in a calm voice. "That was hot."

You look at him, not even hiding your disgust at his words. Michael is such an asshole, even much worse than Simon and their two other bully friends. No wonder why Afton is the leader of their stupid bully four.

Just as you're about to slap him again, Afton grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. Your eyes widen with shock from his his behavior, you try to break free. Your heart is beating faster from misunderstanding. Being in the hands of a bully, in such an intimate position, when anyone can enter here, makes the situation even more dangerous.

"How stupid of him to lose a beautiful girl like you," Michael whispers, looking at your face, at how your lips are trembling. "I'll repeat, my father taught me to support when girl is sad." the last thing he says before leaning in for a kiss.

For a second, everything in your body, especially brain, stopped working, you froze. Even though Michael is holding you, you don't even try to pull away. Afton's actions become bolder because he sees no resistance, so he tries to get his tongue into your mouth. And that's when you finally realize what's going on and push him away.

"Fuck off, you idiot." you mumble, looking at him point-blank.

"I see that such support isnt enough." Michael bares his teeth and pushes his knee right between your legs what makes your skirt rise a little. At that moment, you blush and try to pull it back, but Michael's hand stops you.

You froze in another shock from another sudden kiss. You expected him to do everything but that. You try to push him away, but it's hard to get out of his grip. Or is it you who's fighting too weakly? At first kiss doesn't seem so pleasant, but then Michael deepens it as his hand moves to your waist, hugging you. The kiss gets more intense when you start responding, your body melts under Afton's touch. You don't even have time to keep up with your thoughts, confused by your own actions.

His lips suddenly feel so warm and pleasant which makes you want more, crave even more of this feeling: to be held like this, to be kissed like this even if it's Michael damn Afton. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder. This isn't what you planned when you went here.

When he pulls away from you, you are in oblivion, heat is burning inside. Michael looks at you hungrily, not understanding why you responded. He lets you go and you stumble away from him, but after a moment your back hits wall. You're trying to figure out what just happened. Did he really just kissed you? And you responded with same? Why did this happen at all? There are more questions than answers.

Your heart is pounding as you stare at him, into his eyes, trying to read the answers in them. He caught you off guard, but you didn't push him off right away, you even started responding. The bitter truth is that you liked it more than you wanted to admit. The way he kisses, kind of rude but so hot… It caused an exciting pleasant feeling. But you don't understand how you can be attracted to this bully, in fact, a tormentor, a brute. All thoughts are fucked up and your legs feel like cotton wool.

Michael is elated to see the confusion on your face.

"Little miss hard-to-get," he says, running a finger over his lips. "always trying to be unapproachable." you're staring at him, heart is still pounding from the kiss. You can't find words. Michael feels your vulnerability and it only gives him confidence. "Don't pretend you didn't like it," he says with a sly grin. "I know it by the way you melt in my arms.

So he's also a romantic. However, he sucks at making tremulous speeches.

Feeling of annoyance reappears.

You try to deny it, but deep inside you know that Michael's words are true. You hate what's happening, what you've gotten yourself into. You blame yourself for enjoying it. A feeling of incomprehensible and inexplicable resentment grows inside: why couldn't HE make you feel like this? Why does it have to be Michael? It's unfair.

It's wrong to be aroused by Michael, to feel a pleasant tingling in the lower belly. Wrong, you keep telling yourself. You need to slap that cocky face one more time and get out of here. Forget about everything that just happened.

Why the hell does it have to be Michael? You have to act like this with your boyfriend, it's almost cheating. But a second later, a bitter realization comes to your clouded mind. Right… You don't have a boyfriend anymore.

Michael sees the contradiction on your face and decides to try his luck, as if reading your mind.

"Maybe I'm the one you should be with," he leans closer. "I mean look at me," he says, pointing at himself. "I'm handsome, confident and I know how to treat a girl." he chuckles softly.

No way! You shake your head trying to come to your senses. You know what he's doing, trying to manipulate emotions by hitting on your weak spot: ex. But for some reason, you don't deny his words. It's strange, the feeling of impermanence, misunderstanding is infuriating. And Michael is like some kind of drug right now that you can't resist. Your palms sweating.

You're trying to regain your composure, push him away. But you don't don't strength, especially moral one, to do that. So you just look into his blue eyes, trying to understand the strange feeling inside.

"Have you been jealous all this time?" you ask, without realizing the question yourself, now you are acting only on emotions.

That's when the picture finally starts to show up… Michael's words, actions. All those stares, all those sneers. It was Michael's jealousy, which he could only show in this way.

"Jealous?" he repeats, his eyes widen slightly at your question. Michael was even surprised that you understood so quickly. "You have a rich imagination."

But you know better now. You didn't notice it at all before, spending all your time with your boyfriend. But others, especially Michael's friends, noticed the way he looked at you. Now it's getting clearer, now you see it. He was motivated and is still by something more than just hatred and the desire to mock you forever.

"Don't lie, you're really jealous." it seems that your words hurt him more than you thought. He looks away, staring at the floor.

"Maybe," Michael admits quietly. "maybe i am."

You feel a strange sense of victory, realizing that you've figured out reason of his stupid behavior. But at the same time, you feel guilty. You shouldn't like how the situation is developing and where it's all leading.

When you look into Michael's eyes, the tension only increases. It's as if all the pent-up emotions have been spilling out for so long, turning into an inexplicable lump that confuses both of you.

Suddenly his hands pull your hips closer to him, and you feel his erection through his pants. You both sigh from the close contact. Michael leans in kissing you again, his fingers sliding under your t-shirt, tracing the outline of your breasts. You moan softly into his mouth. Afton pulls away and begins to cover your chin line with hot, wet kisses, then your neck. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, surrendering to the sensations. You don't want to think so you drive common sense and thoughts away.

Michael slips his fingers behind your bra, unbuttoning it. After that, he gently rolls your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it a little. You exhale, clutching at his hair. This is madness, it's impossible to stand it anymore. Michael's lips leave a trail of passionate kisses along your collarbone, his fingers teasingly descend to your stomach. He stops for a moment to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know," he begins, his voice already hoarse with arousal. "I can get any girl I want."

You bite your lip, trying not to show how much you enjoy it. You realize that Michael is just trying to play on your nerves.

"Yeah?" you ask, trying to hide a groan. "Then what makes me so special?"

Michael grins darkly, his fingers tracing your sensitive nipple.

"I don't know," he replies, and gets a menacing look from you that says he's about to get a smack on head. "Maybe it's because you're so damn sexy when you play hard to get."

His compliments and flirting, if you can call it so, are pretty stupid and dumb, but then why do they cause pleasant goosebumps that cover the whole body? You want this. You need him. You can feel desire intensifying with every second, body craves his touch. You turn to face the wall, pressing your butt against his hard-on, letting him know exactly what you want, even though Michael understood everything a long time ago. And he wants the same thing.

"That's it," he breathes, giving you a kiss on the neck. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes," you're squirming. "I want you to fuck me." you meet his gaze, giving him puppy eyes.

Without wasting a second, he lowers his hand down, his fingers push your soaked panties aside, exposing your already dripping pussy to the cool air.

"God, you're so fucking wet…"

Michael's fingers slide between your folds, exploring your wet cunt. Your knees are buckling, and you have to lean against the wall to keep your balance. Michael smiles slyly, his fingers sweetly toying with your clit. You're whimpering, snuggling up against him, pushing up your skirt. He sighs noisily, thrusting two fingers into you at once, sliding them deeper and deeper inside, stretching you as your body shudders with pleasure.

"Lovely, such a good girl." he mutters, still moving his fingers. "cum for me, cum on my fingers." he whispers.

You grab onto the wall as a pleasant shiver runs through your whole body. Michael continues to stimulate your clit, making you arch. And you reach the peak, your body shivers.

"I've wanted you for so long." his hand turns your face to him, Michael looks deep into your eyes. "Your ex," he says in a low and angry voice. "he's a loser, a real idiot, because he couldn't satisfy you. That's why you're here, with me, in my arms."

Your desire is mixed with guilt, realizing what Michael is hinting at. You think you've somehow betrayed your ex by falling into the hands of someone else. But it's not like that. And Michael will prove it to you.

"You're mine now. That bastard missed his chance." Michael says, pressing his lips to yours.

As soon as Michael's words reach you, he straightens up and pulls your body closer, spreading your legs. He rubs his hard cock against your wet entrance and you shudder again in anticipation, responding to his caresses.

Michael pushes inside you, trying to stifle the desire to fuck you hard and rough, to make you cry, to make you forget that you ever dated anyone before him. Jealousy devours him and a disgusting picture forms in his brain… of you hugging and kissing HIM. But not Michael.

He stops, he pulls almost out only to slam back inside again, this time much deeper. Your walls tighten around his cock, waves of pleasure overwhelm both of you. Michael exhales loudly, squeezes your hips and picks up speed, furiously driving into you.

He can't control himself.

You scream into your own fist, all thoughts of the wrongness of the situation disappear, Michael hits all the right places, causing you to moan sweetly. Each hard thrust echoes with vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin, which only excites you both more. Michael holds you tightly, fucking you as you move your hips in response to his thrusts. The orgasm grows again, a tight knot of pleasure twists in your lower abdomen.

"Michael, I'm… I'm gonna!…" you whimper.

Michael growls in response, already breaking into a wheeze. Sweat rolls off his forehead and he frowns as he continues to ruin your sweet pussy. He likes to hear you lose touch with the world around, knowing full well that he's reason of it. Pushing into you harder and faster, he lowers his hand between your legs, finding your clit with his thumb, ripping off another moan from you.

You cry, arching your back, his finger starts tracing your sensitive nub. The additional stimulation pushes you to the limit, your pussy walls clenches hard around his dick. Orgasm hits you like a wave, forcing you to swallow air.

But even when you're shaking from overstimulation, Michael doesn't stop. He continues to thrust, desperately driving deeper, already reaching your cervix, determined to show you what good sex is. Aggression, jealousy and resentment flare up inside him, regardless of the fact that you're completely his now, he cannot contain his emotions. He grabs you by the neck, squeezing just a little. Michael buries his nose in your hair, hiding his face in it and breathing heavily.

Michael fucks you so hard, so furiously, so fast that there's lack of air in your chest.

"His cock wasn't good as mine?" he pulls back slightly, leaving a kiss on your shoulder. It's like he purposely leaves bite marks and kisses to make sure that you really belong only to him.

You can't think, your eyes roll back in pleasure. You can only mumble plaintively to yourself.

"Yes! Your cock is so good, so good!. . ." you admit between ragged breaths. Michael smiles dreamily, feeling a sense of triumph, such recognition fills him with pride.

"That's right, baby," he bites your earlobe. "all you need is me."

The pleasure becomes all-consuming, hitting right into brain. Michael growls raggedly, feeling that hes also close. Another orgasm snaps in you, a discharge passes through your body. Mike also reaches his climax. His body is shaking. He pulls out of you at the last moment, cumming on the wall, moaning through clenched lips.

Both of you are just standing there, panting and trying to come to your senses. But you feel weak, still not understanding a single bit of what happened. You almost fall, but Michael holds you tight, both bodies sweaty and hot. Michael closes his eyes, breathing down your neck. Unlike you, he is aware and understands well what happened because he planned it all. Anger leaves him, but not jealousy. Michael is a very jealous person, especially when it comes to you.

The muscles begin to relax, a pleasant fatigue covers your body. Suddenly you feel his teeth digging into your neck, leaving a small painful bite. Michael runs his tongue over the small wound, at the same time his hands begin to squeeze your breasts, as if he is afraid to let you go.

"You're disgusting." you're mumbling.

"I take after my father." Michael answers you, not hiding the joy in his voice.

Though Michael will throw away the lip gloss anyway.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! 🩷

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you. 

   You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not. 

   As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted. 

   You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday. 

   You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday. 

   Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here. 

   You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

   The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you. 

   “Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides. 

   She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

   You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

   His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to. 

   You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

   “Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

   “Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins. 

   Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

   “Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

   “You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows. 

   “Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you. 

   You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

   He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.” 

   Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

   “Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you. 

   You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop. 

   Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests. 

   You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs. 

   Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?” 

   You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

   He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

   He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”     

   A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory. 

   You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one. 

   You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

   He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

   “You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs. 

   “No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

   Oh. 

   Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not. 

   “How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes. 

   “A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

   Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter? 

   “Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest. 

   “That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

   You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

   You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

   “Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts. 

   “What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality. 

   “You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to. 

   “Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

   He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on. 

   Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at. 

   “The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you. 

   “Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some  pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes. 

   You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

   He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

   Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

   “Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

   You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh. 

   His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?” 

   His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him. 

   You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs. 

   “I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again. 

   You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

   “Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks. 

   “Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear. 

   “No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation. 

   A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole. 

   “So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

   You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine. 

   He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

   He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown. 

   The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment. 

   He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

   He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

   When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it. 

   He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries. 

   “Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

   He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips. 

   “On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material. 

   You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs. 

   He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors. 

   As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes. 

   “Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

   You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly. 

   His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

   You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress. 

   “There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

   You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

   “I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

   He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad. 

   “I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out. 

   His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

   You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.  

   He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

   “Mhm,” you hum out. 

   “Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly. 

   His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too. 

   “Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes. 

   “It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug. 

   “Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone. 

   You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut. 

   “Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

   You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat. 

   “Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black. 

   “Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them. 

   He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.” 

   He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

   You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears. 

   He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

   “Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going. 

   He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace. 

   “Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch. 

   “Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves. 

   “Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

   “Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes. 

   Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor. 

   “That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans. 

   He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into. 

   “Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center. 

   You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center. 

   “Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds. 

   “Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

   “Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still. 

   “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

   He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy. 

   He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision. 

   You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin. 

   “Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

   When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue. 

   You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

   “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone. 

   “Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you. 

   When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

   You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you. 

   “Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet? 

   “Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

   “Another one? But I…”

   “Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

   He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into. 

   You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles. 

   “Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

   “Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt. 

   “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively. 

   He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more. 

   “C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy. 

   “So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him. 

   “Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul. 

   “Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles. 

   He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last. 

   “C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

   “Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils. 

   One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up. 

   “Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright. 

   The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked. 

   His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give. 

   “S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core. 

   You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls. 

   “Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit. 

   “You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you. 

   His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core. 

   “Joel, I think I’m about to…”

   “That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit. 

   “Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release. 

   Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy. 

   When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch. 

   You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

   “How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you. 

   You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty… amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey. 

   “Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease. 

   Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now. 

   You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you. 

   “What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. 

   You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire. 

   He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way. 

   You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

   He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

   Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs. 

   You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

   He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

   You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational. 

   “What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

   You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him. 

   You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk. 

   He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges. 

   You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

   Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

   “Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum. 

   You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

   You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

   He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure. 

   “Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock. 

   “Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess. 

   “Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you. 

   You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him. 

   “Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit. 

   “Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

   Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it. 

   You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you. 

   “Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers. 

   You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down. 

   He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock. 

   You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt. 

   You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth. 

   “Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down. 

   You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

   “Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

   “Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes. 

   He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently. 

   “Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out. 

   He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

   “Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

   He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

   He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs. 

   His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat. 

   He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst. 

   “Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard. 

   Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down. 

   “Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him. 

   He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths. 

   You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you. 

   “Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases. 

   “Looks like it,” you smile. 

   He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks. 

   He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real. 

   “C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this. 

   Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you. 

   “There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

   “Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly. 

   “Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can’t say the word. 

   He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest. 

   “What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you. 

   “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into. 

   “Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin. 

   Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

   Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes. 

   You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth. 

   He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm. 

   Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space. 

   You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly. 

   Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

   You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest. 

   He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand. 

   You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare. 

   Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that? 

   He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop. 

   “Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head. 

   “You thirsty?”

   “Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek. 

   “Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

   You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

   “Okay, angel. Be right back.” 

   Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent. 

   You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race. 

   You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

   You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room. 

   Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

   Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

   Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

   He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.” 

   He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

   You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat. 

   He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch. 

   “Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face. 

   He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was… something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one. 

   The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken. 

   “Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

   “Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind. 

   “The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

   He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

   “Oh,” you gulp. 

   Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh. 

   His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard. 

   You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes. 

   “I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red. 

   You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

   He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

Tags: @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @laramari71 @laramc-02 @yxtkiwiyxt

@mymiller @vivian-pascal @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag @joelalorian

@akah565 @vividispunk @jasminedragoon @lilynotdilly @southernbe

@dugiioh @axshadows @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @almodovarispunk

@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @movievillainess721 @pedrostories @clownd1ck

@sawymredfox

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[glow-in-the-dark-death]

So here is another DPXDC crossover idea nice-ish pariah dark au pariah dark dad au pariah dark x clockwork gender-fluid Danny au ghost prince Danny au Danny x Damien Danny steeling lost artifacts from places so that they don’t get into the wrong hands and Gotham has a bunch

Danny has taken up the job of helping get lost artifacts from the zone back to the infinite realms and giving items lost the zone back to the families of those that lost them Danny is having fun evading the superheroes

Damien is having fun trying to catch the thief that was stealing supposedly cursed artifacts and is surprised when he finally corners the thief that it is a someone his own age and is even more surprised when the thief disappears the literally second he turns his back

Let's see what prompt I can come up with. ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

~

Chase Me, Catch Me, Will You Love Me?

When he was a child he dreamed of going to space being able to chase the vastness of stars.

After his accident that was a dream he had to give up, after that his life became too busy to really think about it.

Gaining powers

Fighting ghosts each day

Trying to do her best in school

Realizing her gender

Evading and escaping his parents

The GIW

He needed a break but not because of this

This being his parents finding out about them being Phantom and not taking it well.

Ha

'Not taking it well' was an understatement.

She fled to the Infinity Realms towards ClockWork. CW felt more like his dad than Jack had for a long while now. He was a bit suspicious when CW told him that the Zone had decided to rehabilitate Pariah Dark but so far he had been staying in line if a bit of a harsh grump and maybe a future parental figure with how he and CW seemed to look at each other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention.

But on the other hand she was thankful he was still king and not Danny, wow had that been a shock to her finding out he was almost king before he was even an adult, he was still titled prince but at least he wasn't the one in charge of everything.

Speaking of being in charge of things, they as a prince still had duties to fulfill, ClockPa had decided it was best for his growth that she return to Earth but not the same one where he would be in danger, no instead it was an Earth with multiple heroes and magic and even aliens!!!

The only thing he had to do was find haunted or ecto powered objects and either return them to their rightful owner or have it put somewhere secure.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

~

Damian had a new rogue, they called themselves Phantom and their crimes resembled greatly of Catwoman's only with seemingly spiritual centered objects.

He had already faced the teasing of all his siblings about how he was resembling father

...and as much as he hated agreeing with them, after almost a year of constantly fighting, chasing, bantering and most recently actually getting to talking he had learned that they were very close in age and had a lot of similar interest they could talk about together with for hours if given the chance.

Soon their dynamic slowly began shifting without either realizing it,

And well who knows what the future holds for them but until then,

The chase continues.

~

Fin

~

Hope you liked it Anon

~

Just an Idea

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Two (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference,Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the “Cryptid Rengoku” character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One

He let me go. I can’t believe what just happened as I stumble back to the small, secluded residence where Tamayo has been housing us. My ankle hurts, but not as badly as before. The pain lingers, though it's less intense after resting and talking with that monster.

I'm in shock and disbelief. Out of all the people who have been searching for these mythical monsters for years, I had the misfortune of encountering one—and a dangerous one at that.

I think back to that haunting smile, those sharp teeth, and the glow of his red eyes. However, Tamayo's rambling might have saved me in a way. I never looked Kyojuro Rengoku directly in the eyes, which means he couldn’t sway my emotions.

If I remember correctly, the Hashira—or more specifically, these cryptid creatures—have the ability to influence a person’s control once you look into their eyes. This could be a means of protection or a manipulation tactic. I didn’t care what Kyojuro Rengoku’s intent was. Once I realized the situation I was in, I kept my gaze low.

He seemed not to notice, or at least he never mentioned it.

My mind is racing, and there's a nauseous feeling in my stomach. The full realization of the situation crashes down on me all at once: I encountered one of the nine most dangerous monsters our group has been researching. And I can’t breathe a word about it to any of them, especially not Tamayo.

The guilt didn’t set in until I finally made it back to the small house. I could see Tamayo, Yushiro, and some of the others talking in a group through the window.

There they were, discussing theories and ideas, while I stood outside with a twisted ankle, no flower, and a huge secret I had to keep from them.

In that moment, it felt like the world was working against me. I didn’t even believe in any of these ridiculous creatures, and now I’m stuck returning to see one every other day.

And return I did. Once my ankle healed, I kept my promise to him, bringing offerings of different foods and teas. I tried bringing blankets and fabric once, but he didn’t seem to enjoy those.

Even though sneaking around at night to see him was difficult, I made it work. Our dynamic was confusing, but I tolerated it. The first few times I visited, we sat and ate together. He would ask me questions about myself and my life, which I usually answered briefly. I didn’t want a terrifying monster knowing everything about me. Recognizing my face was bad enough.

When I tried to ask him questions, he would either change the subject or ignore me completely. If anyone else behaved like this, I’d probably tell them off. But when you’re dealing with an eight-foot-tall cryptid with teeth sharper than any blade, I let it slide.

Today, on my way to see him, I felt different. I’ve been visiting him for around two weeks now and never felt us getting closer, but I’ve started getting used to his company. As I continued to see him more, his appearance began to grow on me.

The blonde fur, the sharp teeth, and the red glow emanating from his eyes became something familiar, something I expected. Over time, these once terrifying traits started to become... not so bad.

"Why do you look like that?" His booming voice jolted me back to reality.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"It seemed like you were staring... Haven't you gotten used to me yet?" He flashed a smile so terrifying yet charming it sent shivers down my spine.

"No, it's not that. I was just trying to decide what food to bring next time."

"I really enjoyed the sweet potato dish. Bring it again." His ears perked up almost like a dog's. It was kind of cute.

"I've brought that one too often. You should try other dishes. Besides, I won't be able to come see you for a few days, so you'll have some time to think it over."

I waited for a response, but there was none. Slowly, I looked up at him. His face was scary, his sharp smile replaced by a terrifying scowl. His ears flattened.

"That's not what we agreed upon, Y/N. Why won't you be able to come see me?" he growled.

I struggled to find the words. Tamayo had informed the group that we'd be moving locations for a few days to cover new ground. I thought he'd understand. I never assumed he'd be upset by my absence.

"My group has to move locations for our search for a while. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll return soon. It will only be a couple of days."

He got up and moved closer, and I felt every part of my body tense as he approached.

"Where exactly will you be going?" His face was so close to mine now. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

"North… we’re going north."

I didn't have to look at his face to feel the intense glare he was giving me.

"You can’t go. You won’t," he snarled, pulling away.

"I don’t have a choice—"

"I don’t care. You aren’t going."

I didn’t understand. Is it just for the food? Why would this terrifying legend of a monster care if I came to see him or not?

"Why is it a problem? Why can’t I go?" I somehow managed to push the words out.

He was quiet, then I suddenly felt something around my wrist. I looked down to see his tail tightly wrapped around me, pulling me closer. That’s when I felt his sharp-clawed hand lifting my chin.

I instinctively shut my eyes.

"Look at me, Y/N." That usually happy tone had vanished from his voice, replaced with a voice as cold as ice.

Every bone in my body wanted to comply with his demands, but Tamayo's warning lingered in my mind.

"I can’t.”

"Look at me," he repeated.

I couldn’t resist. I knew Cryptids could influence humans, but I didn’t realize how much.

Slowly, I felt my eyes open, adjusting to the sight in front of me.

My mouth fell slightly open. I’d never seen such deep red glowing eyes before. That smile I’d grown accustomed to was completely gone.

I was scared, but why was I so… attracted to him?

"You will not go, Y/N. I'm sure you can come up with some excuse for this Tamayo woman you speak of so much," he spat.

I wanted to protest, to argue, but I just couldn't.

"Okay, I'll talk to her."

With that, he let me go, his tail slowly unwrapping from my wrist. His smile returned.

"Very good! You'll return to me tomorrow. I want the sweet potato dish once more!"

I could practically hear my own heartbeat—what a one-eighty.

As I walked back to the safe house, I planned what I would say to Tamayo, what excuse I would give for not going with the group.

Yushiro was definitely going to give me a hard time about it. But this whole situation sucks. I don’t want Tamayo to kick me out of the only place I have to call home, but on the other hand, I risk getting killed by one of the scariest creatures known to man.

-—————-

"Where have you been?"

I glanced up to see Yushiro and some of the others packing for the journey.

"I just stepped out to get some fresh air."

"Seems like you've been stepping out a lot lately," Yushiro muttered, rolling his eyes.

I had no idea why he was so hard on me. His attitude had only worsened the longer I stayed.

Ignoring him, I walked away. I don't answer to Yushiro. I answer to Tamayo, and that's who I needed to talk to.

My hand felt heavy as I knocked on the door to her office.

"Come in."

I opened the door slowly.

She was nearly hidden behind a giant stack of papers and books. As I approached, she stood and walked around to meet me.

"Y/N, what is it?"

I couldn’t believe how intimidating this small woman was.

"Tamayo... I can't go with you and the rest of the group up north."

She looked at me blankly for a moment. "Why's that?"

"Because I'm afraid I might be coming down with a cold... or something..." I hadn't really thought of a convincing excuse.

"You look fine to me. You're going," she said coldly.

Damn.

"I want to, I really do. It's just that I don't feel well, and I'm afraid I'll hold everyone back."

She scrutinized me. I knew she could tell something was off, but she was making this difficult on purpose.

"Y/N, I've asked you to look for the same flower for weeks now and you've brought me nothing. Now I'm asking you to join the group on our search up north and you're telling me no?"

When she said it out loud, it sounded ridiculous.

"You will go with us, Y/N, or you can't continue to stay here. The choice is yours."

So, my options were to face this 4'11" intimidating woman or an 8-foot-tall cryptid monster.

I'll take my chances with Rengoku.

After all, Tamayo controlled whether or not I had a place to sleep at night. I'm sure he wouldn't be too angry with me as long as I brought him more food.

"Suddenly I feel a lot better. I'll be ready to go in the morning," I said, forcing a small smile.

"That's what I figured." She retreated back behind her desk.

Something inside me felt off, my body a little uneasy. Yeah, he's going to be upset, but he'll forgive me. Right?

I walked up into my small room to get things ready, but I started to feel a little strange. My body felt odd, as if I was doing something wrong.

Climbing into the covers I think about everything, this whole situation that I’ve gotten myself into, with Tamayo, with Rengoku, all of it. I just don’t understand why it had to happen to me.

I never wanted any of this.

I was feeling confident until this morning. As I was helping Yushiro get things ready for the set out, my body kept feeling weird.

It’s like I kept having this odd sense of I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m in danger. I kept trying to shake it off but, it doesn’t go away.

Things only got worse once we hit the road. Tamayo may have thought I was lying earlier about being sick, because I was. But now, my whole body feels awful.

But it’s just a few days. I can push through. I’ll come home, make Rengoku a large dish of the sweet potatoes he loves, and all will be forgiven with a little ass-kissing.

“Y/N, are you ready?”

I look over and see Yushiro and the others staring at me.

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go.” I push the sick feeling down and start to move.

I can’t help but think about why Rengoku didn’t want me to go up north. I know the territory mark ends, but really that shouldn’t mean anything. It’s not like I’m staying up there permanently.

As I walked with the group, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I felt like something was staring at me. It only felt more intense the closer and closer we got to the border that separated our usual territory from the north.

Once we started to step over that line, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. I practically felt my heart stop as I noticed two shining red eyes glaring at me in the distance.

He saw me, and he looked furious. I made the wrong call.

———————

To say that the trip up north was a waste of time would be an understatement—at least in Yushiro's words.

We searched around but found very little. To be honest, I was more paranoid about what we couldn't see. Knowing about the Hashira's existence has made me overly wary of wandering around.

While we were camping out, I read that we were in the territory of Sanemi Shinazugawa. His description was just as horrifying as Rengoku’s.

But what truly scared me was how violent this monster was compared to Rengoku. I knew these monsters were fierce, but the tales of Shinazugawa were extreme.

I felt so guilty keeping this secret. My group had no idea how much danger we’d be in if we ran into him. And it would be all my fault.

Honestly, if Sanemi Shinazugawa wanted to find and kill me, I wouldn't complain too much after the way Rengoku looked at me on my way out. I figured I was painfully dead either way.

I could feel my steps getting heavier as we walked back towards the safe house. It’s not like I wanted to stay in a monster-infested forest, but I definitely didn’t want to be there with Rengoku.

I’ve looked through books and journals of Tamayo’s and still can’t find much about him. Everything I found was positive. He was a kind, protective cryptid who watched over the main village in this area until humans deemed monsters too dangerous to trust.

There was nothing on his origins, background, family, or anything—certainly nothing about a temper.

So why was he looking at me like that? Like he wanted to kill me for going against him. Honestly, it felt like my body wanted to punish me for it too.

Ever since we left—no, ever since I agreed to go—I’ve felt sick and worried. I just kept feeling like I was doing something wrong.

“Y/n, when we get back, I need you to get some firewood.”

I glanced over to see Tamayo looking at me.

I’m dead.

“Oh, okay.”

The rest of the walk, all I could do was dread what would happen to me. Not only was Tamayo forcing me back into the place I wanted to avoid, but I’d also be going without some sort of food offering.

I might as well have signed my own death certificate.

Once we made it back, I helped unload everything and then slowly made my way back into the forest to get the wood. As soon as I stepped out of the clearing, a shiver ran down my spine.

Then the clicking started. He’s here.

“Y/N L/N.” The way his echoing voice spoke my name made me want to run, but my feet stayed planted.

Once he emerged from the shadows, his tall, broad figure just as terrifying as I remembered. But this time, there was no sharp smile or perked-up ears. Instead, angry, glowing eyes and a scowl that would scare any man.

I stepped back as he approached.

Just as I was about to speak, his tail wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

He leaned in and sniffed me. When he pulled back, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes darkened.

“You disobeyed me,” he growled.

“I had to. If I didn’t go, Tamayo was going to kick me out—”

His grip tightened, and his ear twitched with annoyance.

“You could have stayed here, with me. You don’t need her approval. The only person you should wish to please is me.”

His glare was piercing.

Stay with him? What is he talking about?

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want to go.”

“I cannot believe you would deliberately disobey me. You even smell like him,” he hissed.

“Who?”

His clicking intensified with his agitation.

“Shinazugawa.” He growled fiercely.

“You left me to fall into his company? He is a vile, horrible creature. You dare to choose him over me?” His eyes flashed with anger.

I felt my heart racing as his words sank in. My mind scrambled for something to say, anything that might diffuse his rage.

“No, it’s not like that! I didn’t choose him over you,” I pleaded. “I didn’t have a choice.”

His grip loosened slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on me, burning with anger and something else—betrayal.

“You always have a choice,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You chose to leave. You chose to put yourself in his path.”

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't even interacted with Sanemi Shinazugawa, yet somehow his scent was all over me.

I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. "Please, Rengoku. I would never choose anyone other than you."

His glowing eyes bore into mine, as if trying to gauge the truth of my words.

Suddenly, he pulled me closer, his large, clawed hand grabbing my face roughly.

"Prove it to me then. Prove you're loyal to me—not to Tamayo, not to Shinazugawa, to me."

"How? How can I prove it?" I was practically shaking. I would do anything to get out of this life-threatening situation.

His intense gaze lit up, his sharp smile returning. He leaned in close to me.

"Become my mate, Y/N L/N. Prove your loyalty to me, and become mine." His echoing voice suddenly sounded less sinister and more sincere.

Become his mate?

I felt my face heat up. There’s no way. There’s just no way Kyojuro Rengoku, a cryptid, a Hashira, one of the most dangerous beings to roam the earth, is asking me, a human, to become his mate.

“What? What do you mean?”

His smile only widened at my curiosity.

“Become my mate, Y/N. Stay with me, love me, and I’ll protect you for all eternity.” His ears perked up.

I didn’t know what to think. Am I actually considering this? I’ve always found Rengoku oddly attractive despite his terrifying nature, and yes, I do enjoy coming to see him. But was becoming his mate really what I had to do to survive?

And how exactly would I hide this from everyone?

As I looked into his eyes again, they flashed. Something in me felt different. Why was I suddenly feeling more attached to him?

I remembered the first time I looked into his eyes. I could tell he was influencing my body and emotions, but this time it was different.

Everything I’ve felt for him just felt amplified: fear, intimidation, attraction, lust.

Was I seriously about to bend to the will of this monster just because my twisted mind was genuinely attracted to his horrifying appearance and oddly charming personality?

If it’s going to keep me alive, then Yes. Yes, I was.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll become your mate, Rengoku.”

His eyes widened, his smile growing larger as his grip on my waist tightened.

“If you agree to this, you must know I’ll never let you go. No matter where you run, I’ll always find you and bring you back to me.”

That sentence startled me, but I never expected to succeed in any escape attempt. I knew I couldn’t outsmart a monster like him.

“I understand. And I agree.”

That seemed to be all he needed to hear. He pulled me closer, our distance vanishing. His animalistic nature began to show as he sniffed and licked my skin.

“I’ll erase every trace of him on you. You’re mine,” he breathed.

I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks grow hotter, my body reacting to his possessive words.

In an instant, he was on top of me, pressing my body against the grass.

I struggled to breathe, his weight nearly suffocating me.

His eyes were locked on mine, his glowing red stare seeming more passionate than threatening now.

Suddenly, he pulled back and tore the clothing from my body, his hands groping and feeling my exposed skin.

My heart raced. I knew what was about to happen, and it terrified me. But I was also strangely excited.

He was quick, his claws shredding the remaining scraps of fabric from my body, leaving me bare beneath him.

I couldn't believe what I'd gotten myself into. This terrifying, mythical creature was about to claim me as his own. And the thought of it drove me wild.

As his large, clawed hands gripped my waist, he positioned himself between my legs.

His eyes looked at me, hungry.

"Y/N L/N."

"Yes?"

"You're mine."

I felt a surge of excitement run through me as I nodded.

"Say it," he growled.

"I'm yours."

His clicking started up again and he positioned his face between my legs.

I can’t believe it, is he really going to—

"Aah!" I cried out as his long, rough tongue began lapping at my sex.

My back arched as he lapped and teased, his sharp teeth nipping and tugging at my sensitive flesh.

I could barely catch my breath, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

I could feel my legs shaking, and my body begin to tighten as his tongue flicked against my clit.

"R-Rengoku..."

His glowing eyes peeked up at me.

“Kyojuro.” He corrected.

“If you are to be my mate, you will not address me so formally anymore.” He growled, sucking marks onto my thighs.

He returned to licking and teasing my pussy.

I can't believe this is happening.

I felt the heat building in my stomach, the pressure building as he lapped at my sensitive spot.

"Ahh... K-Kyojuro, I'm close," I moaned.

"Perfect," he rumbled, his echoing voice vibrating through me.

His grip on my thighs tightened as he pushed his tongue deeper into me, licking and sucking at my throbbing sex.

The pleasure was overwhelming.

"I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum," I moaned softly.

He growled continuing his assault on my clit.

His voice, his touch, it was all too much.

I cried out, my body shuddering and spasming as the intense waves of pleasure crashed over me.

Kyojuro held me in place as my orgasm washed over me, his tongue never slowing its pace.

The pleasure was so intense I couldn’t think straight. My body had never felt so used like this.

As my mind started to settle I couldn’t help but crave more. And by the way he was looking up at me between my thighs. I could tell that wasn’t enough for him either.

Once he arose up in front of me, I took in his body. The ripped muscles beneath his blonde and red fur. His tail and ears, and now…

Now for the first time I’m finally looking all of him. His cock was the biggest I’d ever seen. It was thick and curved and had a large knot close to the base.

my body shivered with pleasure, I wanted more. I needed more.

As if reading my thoughts, he smirked and positioned himself between my thighs, his cock teasing my entrance.

"Tell me what you want," he taunted.

"I... I want you, Kyojuro. I want all of you," I panted, my body aching with desire.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

He grabbed both my ankles holding them with one of his large hands above my head.

I’d be lying if I said this position wasn’t slightly embarrassing, but at this rate I didn’t care. I don’t know if it was the cryptids influence or if I was just fucked up in the head, but I was willing to let this monster use me in any way he wished.

With one smooth motion, he pushed his thick cock inside of me.

I moaned out as he stretched and filled me.

He paused, letting me adjust to his size.

"My mate," he growled, his eyes locking onto mine.

I panted, feeling his cock twitch inside me.

He started moving slowly, his cock rubbing against my walls, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.

"Oh god..."

I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I gripped the grass below me tightly as he slid in and out of me, his knot pushing against my entrance with every thrust.

The pressure was building, the heat spreading through my body as he picked up the pace.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, my body trembling with pleasure.

He clicked and growled in pleasure, his glowing eyes staring into me with a mixture of passion and possession.

He was relentless, his hips pounding into me with a primal fury.

"Fuck, Kyojuro," I cried, my body surrendering to the ecstasy.

The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful.

His eyes flashed with desire, his pace never faltering.

I felt his cock twitch inside me, his knot pushing into my entrance stretching me even wider.

It was painful but I didn’t care, the high of my orgasm made it bearable. His cock was buried so deep inside me I thought my mind was going to blank with every thrust.

even after I came he still kept going, chasing his own release.

His rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing labored.

"Mine, my mate." he growled.

"Yes," I panted.

My words sent him over the edge.

He let out a roar, his teeth digging into my neck as he spilled his seed inside me, filling me with his thick, warm cum.

I cried out in pain and pleasure, feeling his cock pulsing inside me, his cum not spilling a drop due to the thick knot inside of me.

I was breathless, my body exhausted and sore, but my mind was completely satisfied.

"My beautiful human." he whispered, his voice heavy with lust and possession.

I held onto him, my body still trembling.

He released his grip on me, his clawed hand releasing my ankles.

I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed as he pulled his softening cock out of me.

As the warmth of his body faded, the chill of the evening air set in, sending shivers down my spine.

But before the cold could sink in, he covered my body with his own, his warm, heavy frame keeping the chill away.

His face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, where he had bit me. his nose taking in his scent on my skin.

What have I done?

Next>>

[uzurakis]

as a fellow nagumo lover, how about i request nagumo saving reader (who’s also an assassin) while she’s badly injured and teasing her as she recovers 🙃

your eyes flutter awake, and you're greeted by the sight of yoichi nagumo lounging in a chair by your bed, his feet propped up on the edge. those dark eyes light up the moment he sees you stir.

"well, look who's decided to join the land of the living~!" he exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face. awhile ago, you slowly regain consciousness, the beeping of the hospital machines faintly registering in your ears. the body of yours feels heavy and sore, memories of the mission flooding back; remembering the ambush, the fight, and then the pain. but most of all, you remember nagumo’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he saved you. and you don’t see that often, never, actually.

you try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a croak. nagumo jumps up, leaning over you with an exaggeratedly concerned expression.

"oh no! have you forgotten how to talk? i guess i'll just have to handle all the conversation from now on," he says, feigning a dramatic sigh.

you roll your eyes, managing to croak out, "water."

he grabs a cup of water from the table, but instead of handing it to you, he holds it just out of your reach. "first, you have to answer a riddle. what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?"

"nagumo, seriously?" you rasp, your annoyance mingled with a slight, very tiny hint of amusement. man, i just woke up, you say in your head.

he only chuckles and finally gives you the water. "fine, i'll let you off this time. but only because you look like you’ve been through a meat grinder."

the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you take a grateful sip. "thanks.. for the rescue," you manage to say.

nagumo waves his hand dismissively. "oh, don't mention it. just another day in the life of your favorite assassin."

don't mention it, he says with a casual wave of his hand, his trademark grin firmly in place. but beneath that easygoing facade, he's a whirlwind of emotions. the memory of finding you bleeding and unresponsive still haunts him, a gnawing fear that he might lose you forever. he can still feel the cold dread that settles in his stomach when you don't respond to his frantic calls, the way his heart pounds in his chest as he carries you to safety. every step is a desperate prayer that you'll hold on, that you'll survive. seeing you lying so still, so vulnerable, shakes him to his core. regardless of his lighthearted demeanour, he can't shake the residual anxiety of nearly losing you, the concern that one day his abilities may be worthless to keep you safe.

"favorite, huh?" you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

"absolutely," he says, winking. "and you know, you gave us quite a scare. i mean, i had to carry you all the way back here. do you have any idea how heavy you are?"

you glare at him playfully. "maybe if you weren't so scrawny, it wouldn't have been a problem."

the guy laughs, the sound infectious. "touché. but really, you had us all worried. even sakamoto looked like he might actually break a sweat."

"i'm sorry," you say softly, feeling a pang of guilt for the trouble you caused. “i really thought it could handle them by myself. sorry..”

nagumo's expression softens for a moment, his usual levity giving way to genuine concern. "hey, don't apologize. i've got your back, and you've got mine. besides, it’s not like i’d let anything happen to my favorite partner, riiight? why are you looking at me like that?”

before you can respond, he suddenly leans in close, a mischievous glint in black pupils. "oh, by the way, did i tell you? i told the nurses you’re afraid of needles. so they might have a surprise for you when they come to change your IV."

your eyes widen in horror, and he bursts out laughing at your reaction. "relax, i’m kidding. or am i? guess you’ll find out soon enough."

"you rascal," you mutter, shaking your head.

"you owe me a box of pocky sticks," he says with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

despite the pain and exhaustion, you can’t help but smile. "i guess i do."

he reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. "get some rest. i’ll be here when you wake up. and who knows, maybe i’ll have another riddle for you."

"great," you say sarcastically, if it’s not for your injuries, maybe you’ve already thrown a pillow at his face. though, you know you can always count on him to be there for you, pranks and all.

@uzurakis

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 2

I have no idea what I am doing with this space each week. Am I thinking thoughts? Am I recapping the episode? Am I getting anxiety that I'll have to be more selective with the images I use since I'm only allowed thirty yet every second of this show is color-coded? Am I lusting after Pin and my girl Prik? All of the above?! Once again, I have no idea, so let me just get this post started at the beginning with Pin being the saddest Pink Person and cutting all the mangoes within 50 miles because her girlfriend is leaving.

The Blue Beauty Anin sends her loyal and trusty sidekick Prik to keep her girlfriend company while she is busy preparing for her move.

Because she knows no mangoes are safe and apparently papayas too! And while we get a flashback, we see that Pin is wearing blue ribbons in her hair because even if she can't put words to it, she's been in love with her Blue Beauty for a long time.

Probably before she even knew the word "love"

So while Anin is busy making arrangements with her color-coded brother,

Pin is haunting the halls already grieving her loss

Refusing to acknowledge that Anin is leaving (same girl, same)

Losing her appetite (and will to live), which her color-coded mother picks up on

And crushing Prik's spirit with the realization that Anin will be abroad for SEVEN DAMN YEARS!

Basically, Pin is in her sad girl era as she holds Anin's handkerchief and cries into her pillow.

But thankfully Prik acts like a ghost and snitches to her Blue Beauty Boss that their Pink Person is turning into Britney Spear's 2000 classic "Lucky" since "she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking 'if there's nothing missing in my life then why do these tears come at night?'"

So Anin, in true Blue Beauty, fashion decides to make her girl happy by making food with her and eating it . . . alone since Pin still isn't eating.

And takes up every single waking moment of Pin's time.

They even celebrate Loy Krathong together, but the mood turns sad once Pin finally vocalizes that Anin is leaving FOR SEVEN DAMN YEARS!

So it's time for Anin to leave, and she says goodbye to her color-coded girlfriend and her color-coded aunt.

Oh, and her color-coded brothers!

But she immediately gets to writing her girl because if a letter is late, according to Prik, Pin is painting her nails black and listening to My Chemical Romance's "Ghost of You" on repeat until the letter arrives. Same girl, same.

However, Pin can read between the lines, and even though Anin is saying she is happy and writing about other friends (Anin knows other women?! Not in this sapphic love story she don't!),

Pin knows Anin is not happy and can see the teardrops on the letter as clear as day because they are the same album, but different songs. Alexa, play My Chemical Romance's "I'm Not Okay"!

Fuck it! Just play all of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge! I'M in my emo feels!

But their SEVEN DAMN YEAR separation is coming to in end which we can tell because their hairstyles have changed, and our Blue Beauty has a plan up her sleeve!

Sidenote: The snow globe on her desk has one character in green and blue and the other is in red and pink. It's them!

But back to the plan! Now that Anin is graduating, she triple-checks with her color-coded family that the highly esteemed prince who just happens to be her dad is going to keep his promise of giving her anything she wants.

Because this bad (blue) bitch is getting the custom-made house she promised her girl! Sis secured the bag!

And Pin is proud as hell of her smarty-pants skirt (since the clothing is historical accurate?).

But as proud as she is of her, in the middle of a room filled with pink, blue, and purple (!!!!) flowers, she looks shocked to see her Blue Beauty right in front of her when the episode ends.

Anin is just full of surprises like appearing out of nowhere and coming back queerer than when she left. Good for her!

Bonus: Anin's mom is a Yellow/Orange Oddity, and I think as the girls continue to age, they will inherit more of their moms' colors into their wardrobes because of generational trauma, gender norms, and whatnot until they break against tradition and be gay do crime each other.

But either way, me and my huge emo album collection will be here doing whatever this is all season!

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 3

 Despite your crippling fear of men, your family sells you to the Doll House. Luckily, you end up with the handsome, gentlemanly Nanami as your trainer, and he’s about to show you how great a man can be.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Nanami’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

The book series the characters are discussing is The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson. Jasnah and Shallan are both from it. Everyone please go read it because it’s amazing (and fall in love with Kaladin just like everyone else, in universe and out). 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Oral sex. Fingering. Spanking (with hand). Divider by @benkeibear!

Four weeks into your training, you and Nanami are both sitting in your chairs, reading. You adore these quiet moments between you two, where you’re both doing something you love, together. Nanami always seems so relaxed and comfortable sitting there, a heavy book in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. You’re happy he can feel that way in your presence. 

The feelings you’re starting to have for him… they’re dangerous. He’s explained to you already that you should avoid developing an attachment to him, because he’s not going to be your long term owner. You understand that. But while you are a little less scared of men in general (you can talk to most of the other trainers at dinner now without nearly having a panic attack), you’re still terrified of the idea of some strange man taking you away from here. Away from Nanami. 

“You’ll meet the buyer a few times before you go,” Nanami has told you. “He won’t be a complete stranger to you.”

You were slightly relieved to hear that, but you still felt a knot in your stomach when Nanami casually spoke of another man taking ownership of you. Won’t he miss you? How does he keep training women and then sending them away without a care in the world? 

Did the previous women feel this way about him? Did they get this close to him? These questions haunt you.

You close the book in your lap, finally finishing the second book in the series Nanami is lending you. At your pace, you should finish the third one before you have to leave. The books are massive though. 

He looks up. “Finished?”

“Yes, just now.”

His eyes seem a little warmer as he asks, “What did you think of it?”

Outside the window you tried to crawl out of once upon a time, snow is falling silently. There’s already a blanket of the shimmering diamond dust on the ground outside, making the warmth of Nanami’s room all the more cozy.

You tuck your legs under yourself and say, “It was amazing! That climax was incredible!”

He smiles and nods. “I thought so too. Have you chosen a favorite character yet?”

You think for a moment. He asked you the same question when you finished the first book, but you wanted to read more before deciding. Now, you think you have your answer. “Jasnah. She kind of reminds me of you.”

Nanami looks surprised. “She does?”

“Yeah. She’s super smart, mature, collected, strong, beautiful…”

He raises an eyebrow at that last word. 

“Uh, I mean… you’re… very handsome. But you know that already,” you say awkwardly. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” he says. “I think my favorite is Shallan. She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s trying.”

You feel heat creeping into your cheeks. You saw so much of yourself in Shallan that you almost didn’t like her. But she’s Nanami’s favorite? Maybe he thinks more of you than you thought. 

“I hope I can finish the third book by the time I leave,” you tell him. 

“You will. And you can take my copy of the fourth with you. Think of it as a gift.”

You blink at him. “A gift? How did you know my birthday is tomorrow?”

His eyes widen slightly. “Tomorrow is your birthday? I didn’t know. The book was going to be a farewell present, so I’ll get you something else tomorrow.”

You quickly wave your hands in a dismissive motion. “Oh, no, you don’t have to get me anything!”

“Let’s see, how about a nice dinner?” he asks, ignoring your protests. “I’ll make reservations in the morning. And we’ll need to get you something appropriate to wear. The restaurant I have in mind is high end.”

High end? So he’s taking you some place fancy. You remember your aunt taking you to fancy restaurants a few times in your teenage years, but you had panic attacks when any men came near. You probably scared the poor waiters half to death. In the end, you had to leave before the food was even served. By the time you reached adulthood, your aunt stopped trying, which meant she also stopped buying you fancy dresses to wear. 

The next morning, Nanami takes you to a boutique in town and instructs the stylist working there to help you find something suitable. He waits patiently while you try on several dresses, finally settling on a red, form fitting one with a high neckline to balance out the rather daring slit up to your hip. The stylist announces that the two of you have chosen a dress, and from the fitting room you hear Nanami’s voice ask, “Would you like to show it to me?”

“Not yet,” you call back through the curtain. “I want it to be a surprise tonight.”

After putting back on your regular clothes, you step out to find Nanami at the counter, paying the exorbitant price for the dress, as well as shoes and a long coat you’d picked out first. You told him you already had a good coat, but he insisted. 

Back at the Doll House, Nanami politely stepped out so that you could get ready. He was wearing a fine suit that looked ridiculously expensive and his hair was neatly styled back from his face. He looked so handsome, you almost asked if you could spend the evening in bed with him. 

One of the other dolls, the one being trained by Choso, worked in a salon before being a doll. You suppose that explains Choso’s constantly changing hairstyles, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she offers to do your hair and makeup for you. When she’s finished, and you’re wearing your new dress and shoes, you’re shocked by how fancy you look in the mirror. It’s been so long since you dressed up for anything, you’ve nearly forgotten how nice it feels. 

You pull on your new coat, which is long enough to conceal much of the dress. It’s beautiful, with fur trim, and very warm. There’s also a pair of sleek leather gloves laid out for you to wear. You wonder why he wants you to dress so warmly. Maybe he wants to take a romantic stroll through town. 

When you step into the welcome room, Nanami is waiting for you. He offers his arm to you in his typical gentlemanly fashion and the two of you step outside into the cold winter night. 

You stop short as soon as you walk out the door. There in front of the entrance is a beautiful horse-drawn carriage. The entire thing is white with gold trim, even the horses are the color of snow. Now you know why Nanami wanted you to be warm. 

He goes over to the carriage and opens the door. A step lowers down from the side and Nanami helps you up and into the seat, then sits beside you. There’s a heated blanket folded neatly on the seat across from you, and Nanami spreads it over both your laps. “Not too cold, are you?” he asks, sliding one warm arm around your shoulders. 

“No,” you say, still a bit awe struck, “it feels nice.”

“I’ve noticed you like to watch the snow falling outside the window, so I assumed you like snow,” he says. 

He’s been paying that much attention to you? The thought makes your heart flutter. “I love snow,” you tell him, looking up at the dark sky. The snow is falling softly but steadily, in a way that will only leave a thin coating on the ground. It’s breathtaking. 

As the carriage moves to the road, you can’t help feeling like a Princess. The sound of the horses’ hooves clacking on the road is comforting, and you end up leaning your head on Nanami’s shoulder, savoring his heat. 

*************

After the carriage stops in front of the exclusive French restaurant Nanami made reservations at, he stands up and climbs down, then helps his doll move down the steps provided. She seems breathless and excited, which is exactly what Nanami was hoping for. He knows being out in public, around men, makes her nervous. The plan was to make the trip there so unique, she wouldn’t have the chance to let her anxiety build. He also called ahead and requested a woman to be their server. He wants this to be a special night. 

Once inside the warm, well lit restaurant, Nanami removes his outer coat and hands it off to an attendant. Then he steps behind his doll and gently removes hers. After handing it over and turning back to face her, he finally gets to see the dress she has chosen.

He nearly stops breathing. She’s so stunning in the long red dress, the slit on the side going almost scandalously high, that he’s not sure he’ll be able to remain a gentleman tonight. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to take her home immediately and fuck her into the mattress. 

But tonight isn’t about what he wants. It’s about her, about celebrating the day she came into this world. 

So he holds out his arm and she takes it, curling her elbow around his to interlock herself with him as they walk through the restaurant. Nanami reserved a secluded table next to a large window, so that she could have an excellent view of the town and the falling snow as she enjoyed her meal. 

He pulls out her chair for her and then takes his own. She seems a little bit nervous, but relaxes when a woman comes to the table to ask what the couple would be having to drink this evening. Nanami orders champagne after confirming his doll likes it, and the two of them look over their menus as the server walks away. 

Once dinner is brought out, Nanami is impressed with the doll’s table manners. She grew up in a wealthy family, so he supposes it shouldn’t be a surprise, but the way she gracefully eats her meal and sips her champagne seems at odds with the awkward woman who ran to the bathroom to scream a few weeks ago. He still chuckles to himself when he remembers it. 

“Do you always take dolls to fancy restaurants like this?” she asks. 

“No, this is the first time, actually,” he replies. 

She seems surprised. “Really? So why me then?”

“It’s your birthday. And I haven’t been here in a very long time. I don’t enjoy eating here alone,” Nanami tells her. 

“I see,” she says, and he wonders why she sounds just a little disappointed. 

“That being said,” he adds, “if I’m going to bring someone here to eat with me, I’d prefer to bring a beautiful, intelligent woman like you.”

She blushes and looks back at her plate, making Nanami smile. They make pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal, then when his doll is finished eating, she suddenly touches her ear and says, “Oh no, I’ve lost an earring.”

There’s something strange about the way she says it, as if she’s not really worried, but she stands up from her chair and looks around on the floor. 

Nanami’s eyes scan the floor around the table as well. “I can ask if someone can help look for it,” he says, starting to get up himself. 

She holds up one hand to stop him. “No! It’s okay. I can find it!” Then she pulls the fabric of her dress up and to the side and gets down on her knees. Perplexed by this odd behavior, Nanami watches as she crawls beneath the table, disappearing behind the thick white tablecloth. A few seconds later, he feels her hands on his thighs, rubbing along the inner sides, then nudging them apart. 

He freezes, the glass of champagne in his hand halfway to his lips. For a moment, he sits perfectly still, feeling her hands working at his belt, then opening his pants. Then he slowly sits the glass back down and subtly lifts the edge of the tablecloth. There she is, his beautiful, awkward, sexy, silly doll, pulling his rapidly hardening cock from his pants and wrapping her red lips around it. 

He can feel her tongue gliding over him, coating him in saliva, her eyes staring up at his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, trying to maintain a stern tone but struggling to keep from moaning. 

She pulls away, strings of fluid connecting her lips to his tip. “I’m still hungry, Daddy.”

His self control is being severely tested. He reaches down and grabs a handful of her prettily styled hair, pulling her face back down and effectively shoving his cock back into her mouth. 

Fuck, she’s good at this. Her tongue never rests, her lips are tightly locked around him, and she’s making the hottest little “mmmm” sounds he’s ever heard. It’s a massive struggle to keep his composure. 

His blood nearly freezes in his veins when the server approaches the table. He hopes the tablecloth hides his lap well enough as he smiles politely up at the woman. She smiles back and says, “Will you be having dessert this evening?”

“No, thank you,” he says. 

“And what about your date?” the server asks, probably assuming his doll had went to the restroom.

His grip on her hair tightens and he pushes her head further down, stuffing her little throat beneath the table. “I believe she’s quite full,” he says smoothly to the server. 

After a few more words and leaving the check behind on a silver tray, the server leaves. Nanami lifts the tablecloth again and looks down. The lovely face looking up at him nearly makes him cum on the spot. “You’re being very brazen tonight,” he says, keeping his voice even with great effort. “Such a bad girl. I hate to have to punish you on your birthday, but you leave me no choice.”

Excitement flashes in her eyes. He’s been with her long enough to know what thrills her, what turns her on. And nothing gets her wetter than a good “punishment”. 

He can’t hold out any longer. He pushes her head down again and says, “Don’t make a mess. I don’t want to see a drop on your dress, or my pants.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before he cums directly into her tight, hot mouth. He can feel her tongue and throat working to swallow all of it, sucking the life out of him. He suppresses a groan and hopes no one in the restaurant saw the shudder that just rippled through him. 

A minute later, his doll crawls out from under the table and he helps her to her feet. She takes a napkin and wipes her mouth daintily, as if she hasn’t just guzzled his cum. Then she holds up a dangly silver earring and says, “What luck! I found it!”

He can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face, or the massive hardon already building in his pants. There’s no way he can wait until they get home. He leaves a generous tip for the server and then takes his doll by the hand, leading her out of the dining area. He finds the “powder room”, which is structured like a restroom without the toilets. There’s a sink, a mirror, and a wide, padded bench. Apparently it’s a place for people (probably women) to freshen up. 

Nanami confirms the room is empty, then locks the door. He sits down on the bench and then pulls his doll toward him by the arm. Using rough but fluid movements, he forces her to lie stomach-down across his lap. She gasps as he moves one hand under the slit in the dress, stroking her thigh, then pulls the fabric up, exposing her black lace panties. His hand moves over her ass, relishing the feel of the plump flesh, the way she’s already trembling beneath his touch. 

He pulls off his black silk tie and uses it to bind her wrists together behind her back. Then he pulls her panties down to her knees and gives her bare ass a harsh smack with the palm of his hand. 

She lets out a small cry, probably trying not to make too much noise. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” she says. She’s not sorry at all, judging from the lusty look in her eyes. 

Smack!

“And what are you sorry for?” he asks. 

Smack!

She whimpers and squirms in his lap. “F-for being brazen and shameless… and…”

Smack!

“And?” he says.

Smack! 

“For risking us getting caught… and embarrassing you.”

He gives another smack, marveling at the reddened, heated skin where his hand hits. Then he slides his hand down between her thighs, feeling how wet she is, smearing her arousal all over her backside. When he pushes two fingers inside her, she moans and jerks in his lap. He pumps them in and out while she wiggles around, releasing little cries of “ahh ahhh!”

When she’s on the edge of cumming, he withdraws his fingers and gives her another smack, harder this time, and she jolts from the sting. That’s the limit of his self control. Nanami lifts her up and shifts them around so that she’s face down on the bench, her ass in the air, her beautiful red dress bunched up at her waist, her wrists still tied together behind her. And then he’s burying his cock in her dripping pussy while she cries out a little too loudly. 

He gives her raw ass another smack as his thrusts get deeper, and she clenches so tightly around him that he sees stars. Three more smacks and she’s cumming on his cock, crying and quivering, her makeup ruined by her tears. Almost immediately after, he reaches his limit, shooting his cum into her core. 

For the next few minutes, they sit side by side on the bench, just catching their breath. Then they quietly help each other clean up and his doll fixes her hair and makeup as best she can at the sink. She catches Nanami’s eye in the mirror and gives him a sweet, warm smile. 

She’s incredible, he thinks. She’s incredible and she’s his. At least for now. 

The thought of his time with her being temporary has been on his mind lately, and he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He feels so comfortable with her, as if he’s truly home when she’s by his side. She stimulates him both physically and emotionally. Lately, he can’t seem to picture his life without her in it. 

There is a way she could stay with him, and he’s given that a lot of thought these past few days. But what would she think of the idea? 

On the way home, in the carriage, he watches the snowflakes collect on her hair and leans over to kiss her, his hand finding hers under the heated blanket. 

The carriage drops them off back at the Doll House, and as they walk through the parking lot, still holding hands, Nanami broaches the topic to her. 

“Are you aware that all trainers at the Doll House are allowed to keep exactly one doll they’ve trained?” he asks. 

She looks at him, eyes wide. “No, I didn’t know that,” she says as they near the door. 

He reaches out and opens it for her. “These past few weeks have been wonderful. If they’ve been the same for you… I was thinking of ‘keeping you’. How would you feel about that?”

She’s stepping through the open door when the words hit her. Just inside, she whirls around to face him as he follows her in. She opens her mouth. “I-“

“There you are!”

A feminine voice cuts off his doll’s reply. The two of them look up to find an older, classy looking woman standing in the lobby. 

His doll looks shocked. “Aunt Rina?”

Aunt? So this is the woman who sold off her own terrified niece to the Doll House.  Nanami instantly dislikes the woman, but he keeps his expression politely neutral. 

Aunt Rina places one jewel-covered hand on her hip. “I’ve been waiting all evening,” she says to her bewildered looking niece. 

Then…

“Pack your things. I’m here to take you home.”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr

[magicalink]

Broken Beyond Repair

Content: Angst? Hurt/comfort? Some sad and painful thoughts Wanderer has at night when the past haunts him and he feels that it has completely ruined his present and future. Slight comfort and hope towards the ending? I dunno what this is, some sudden idea that attacked me at night and I decided to give it a shot. Not proofread.

That's how Wanderer felt. That's how he saw himself. Because no matter how good things could be in the present or future, the damage the past had inflicted upon him had shattred him, twisted him in ways that prevented him from ever finding peace. From ever being free from pain.

He turned and tossed in bed. In your bed. He was incapable of sleeping. Tons of thoughts flooded his mind.

Because now he had what he had always wanted, right? He had a goddess that considered him her son. And he had a human who loved him, who considered him her equal.

Yes, he had Nahida. He had you. He finally had what he had always wanted. To be accepted, to be loved, to be a part of something, to have a family.

But he felt that it was too late. Even if now he had everything he had ever longed for, the traumatic suffering from the past had left him too broken to ever be able to truly enjoy it.

There were too many losses, too many heartbreaks, too many sins he didn't have the right to regret.

Many times he wished he had chosen not to recover his memories, to live a peaceful life, free from sorrow, able to enjoy what he wanted the most had he ever come across it. But he knew he didn't deserve it. And besides...

It wouldn't even be worth it if he wasn't by your side.

He looked besides him. You were laying at the other side of the bed, wandered far from where you had been cuddling him when you first turned off the lights. You were sound asleep, he could hear your breathing.

He had no doubt. He didn't deserve to live a peaceful life without the memories of what had happened and of what he had done. But he had more than he deserved. He had Nahida, and he had you. He didn't deserve to have you there by his side after how much he had harmed you and your kind. Yet there you were, always for him.

Whenever he cried in his sleep, because he was broken beyond repair and the cracks would bust open when he was most vulnerable, you were there to cradle him, to lull him, to wipe his tears and kiss his wounds, his scars, both the physical and the emotional ones.

You were always there. That's the reason why he even bothered sleeping when he didn't even have the need. He would lay there in bed with you, sharing the utmost intimacy and vulnerability, because it was the last thing that brought happiness and peace to his broken being. He felt it was the pinnacle of human connection, the maximum declaration that you were now a couple, a family, a family that could not be separated. It didn't matter that he was a puppet, that he was not human, that he had no heart. When he laid in bed with you, it was a shoutout to the world, but mostly to himself, that he was your lover, your companion, your only man.

So he laid in bed night after night by your side, treasuring the chances he had to do it when you weren't away in your many endless travels. It made him happy, but he could never fully enjoyed because he was twisted, marked by sorrow, broken beyond repair.

He hated how far you had wandered from him. Maybe you should have a smaller bed. He wanted you closer, but he always waited for you to make the first move. A move you wouldn't make because you were in a deep slumber, unaware of his rumiation of his endless pain.

But he couldn't take it anymore, if he was far from you those cracks that were the proof of his brokenness would bust open any moment and he didn't want to cry while awake. The pain he felt that night was so deep, it made him so desperate, it was the kind of pain and anxiety that wouldn't even let him cry, just sink into en endless spiral of rumiation and mourning and self loathing.

So he made the first move, and coyly approached your side under the sheets, sighing sadly. He was weak, he was dumb, he didn't deserve you, and he didn't deserve you even more taking into account that he wasn't even able to fully enjoy you because he was broken beyond repa...

He yelped and blushed when you instantly wrapped your arms and legs around him as soon as yoy felt his body touching yours. Even if you were sound asleep, you cuddled him, held him tight against your chest, mumbling incoherences in your sleep as your body moved by itself to hug him, as if it knew his by heart. As if your body recognized his as its other missing half, as if you were made for ine another.

He felt butterflies in his stomack, a wild ticking where his heart should be, and it reminded him how good it felt to be by your side. How happy it made him. Even if a broken being like him could never be completely happy and completely in peace, having you by his side were his only moments of piece and happiness on the hell he was forced to inhabit.

It was worth it. Being by your side was worth everything. Laying in bed with you was worth everything. Beinf the one you held close even if you were asleep was worth everything.

Because even if he was broken beyond repair, being by your side gave him enough comfort, enough enjoyment, even if it was interrupted by the torment of his past, enough reason to continue living.

He snuggled you back and kissed the top of your head, careful not to wake you. All he wanted was to be with you. It made him happy. As happy as he could be with his nonexistant broken heart. If he was broken beyind repair and complete peace and happiness were unattainable, then so be it. Having this moments with you brought him enough solace and joy, even if it was fragile, even if it was interrupted, because he knew you always soothed him back with your sweet words and hugs, with the firm yet gentle grip with which you held him, and with the way you kissed him and caressed him.

He was broken beyond repair, and so were you, but you both held each other's pieces together every single day. And during the night, it was the moment when you kissed the cracks and made sure none of you would crumble. And if you did, it would be in each other's arms where you would be taken care of and shown love until you could stand back on your feet again.

[ilguna]

Hi again this is from the supply run. Could you please do #17 from aisle 1 and # 22 from aisle 2 with finnick? Thank you! 🎉 -🪐

☼ only friends (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, gore, blood mention, death, death mention.

wc; 5.7k

prompt; 17. denying their relationship strongly. 22. "They won't take you away from me ever again."

—

“Tomorrow morning, when we pull Katniss Everdeen’s body from the ashes, we will see exactly who the Mockingjay is. A dead girl who could save no one, not even herself.” Snow’s voice is haunting as he gives the final word. The Capitol seal replaces his face, the anthem plays, and the television shuts off.

“Except that you won’t find her.” Finnick says to the empty screen, turning his head to glance at you.

The Peacekeeper’s that will be sent to retrieve the bodies tomorrow will be missing twelve of them, actually. All they’ll come across is Boggs and one of the Leeg sisters. The rest of you made it out safely.

“We can get a head start on them at least.” Katniss says, pulling out the Holo. She moves closer to Jackson, listening to a set of directions on how to work the device. She manages to get the coordinates in, and a projection of the surrounding streets fills the air.

The silence is suffocating as you watch all the different colored blinking lights. No matter what direction you decide you’re going to go, there will be hundreds of pods waiting for you. And these all happened to pop up in the past couple of hours.

You look at Finnick again, and find that he’s got his eyes on you already. This trip has just gotten ten times more dangerous, and your options on travel are beginning to dwindle, quickly.

“Any ideas?” Katniss asks.

“Why don’t we start by ruling out the possibilities.” Finnick tears his eyes from yours. “The street is not a possibility.”

“The rooftops are just as bad as the street.” Leeg says.

“We still might have a chance to withdraw, go back the way we came.” Homes suggests. “But that would mean a failed mission.”

Katniss frowns briefly. “It was never intended for all of us to go forward. You just had the misfortune to be with me.”

“Well, that’s a moot point. We’re with you now. So, we can’t stay put. We can’t move up. We can’t move laterally.” Jackson shakes her head. “I think that just leaves one option.”

“Underground.” Gale agrees.

Your nose crinkles at the idea, but you force your face to smooth. Now is not a time to be picky, especially when you’re being cornered so harshly. You want to make it out of this city alive, which means you’ll do anything for it to happen.

Katniss switches the Holo to show the pods beneath the surface. While it appears that there’s not nearly as much pods underground, the sewers are going to be harder to navigate. The streets are straightforward, the sewer is full of twisting and turning tunnels. It’s a mess.

With no other option, it’s decided.

“Okay, then. Let’s make it look like we’ve never been here.” Katniss says.

You all get to your feet, picking up empty cans to send down the trash chute, while packing the full ones into your bag. The others flip the couch cushions over to hide the blood, wipe the tracks of black oil from the tile, and lock the second bolt on the door from keeping it from looking like the door got kicked in.

Peeta sits on the blue sofa. “I’m not going. I’ll either disclose your position or hurt someone else.”

“Snow’s people will find you.” Finnick tells him, you stop next to him, crossing your arms.

“Then leave me a pill. I’ll only take it if I have to.”

“That’s not an option. Come along.” Jackson says.

“Or you’ll what? Shoot me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peeta.” You say.

“We’ll knock you out and drag you with us.” Homes says. “Which will both slow us down and endanger us.”

“Stop being noble! I don’t care if I die!” He shouts, proceeding to turn to Katniss. “Katniss, please. Don’t you see, I want to be out of this?”

Katniss stares at him for a long moment. “We’re wasting time. Are you coming voluntarily or do we knock you out?”

Peeta takes in a breath, burying his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh. He then gets to his feet to join you.

“Should we free his hands?” Leeg asks.

“No!” Peeta snarls, pulling the cuffs closer to his body.

“No.” Katniss agrees. “But I want the key.” Jackson pulls it out, handing it over to Katniss, who slips it into a pocket in her pants.

With this decided, you all begin to head for the maintenance shaft that you have to enter through the back closet on the upper floor. From there, two doors down, a vertical tube connects the row of apartments to the tunnels below. When Homes opens the small metal door to the shaft, it’s clear that the shells Castor and Pollux are wearing will not fit.

They shed them, stashing the shells in the closet, because that’s the only option they have. Castor and Pollux settle on using their emergency cameras, which are roughly the size of a shoebox.

You let them go in through first, motioning for Finnick to go next. He does the same, the two of you stare at each other for a long second. “Come on, Finnick.”

“I’m not letting you take up the rear.” He tells you.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Which is why you’ll be going first.” He raises his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, shedding your backpack to drag next to you while you shuffle through the tight space. You sidestep past the first apartment, and join the others in the second one, where they’ve already begun to crowd around the tube to the tunnels.

Messalla frowns at the circular cover behind the utility door. “It’s why no one ever wants the center unit. Workmen coming and going whenever and no second bath. But the rent’s considerably cheaper.” He mutters, when he looks up and sees the way you and Finnick are looking at him, he adds, “Never mind.”

The cover opens easily, there’s a wide ladder with rubber treads on the steps to allow quick movement up and down. You don’t bother to argue with Finnick about this one, sliding down the ladder, gathering at the bottom.

It’s terribly dark down here, even with the strip of dim lights. You wait for your eyes to adjust, while being forced to breathe in the smell down here. A sickening mixture between chemicals, mildew and sewage.

“Are you alright?” Finnick asks, moving a hair out of your face. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“It’s the smell.” You rub your nose.

Pollux is pale, sweat running down the side of his forehead. He grabs onto Castor, holding on with white knuckles.

“My brother worked down here after he became an Avox.” Castor says. “Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn’t see the sun once.”

It’s quiet between you all, no one knowing how to respond to something so horrid. You couldn’t imagine being forced down here for an extended period of time. You would go crazy. You’d break out and run and get yourself killed because you’re so desperate to see the sky.

“Well, then you just became our most valuable asset.” Peeta says, turning to Pollux. Castor laughs, and Pollux manages to smile.

Pollux leads the way down the first tunnel, you and Finnick walk side by side in the very back, behind Jackson and Gale, who are watching over Peeta like hawks. He doesn’t seem to care, hunched over, watching the ground. 

It turns out that there’s a network of wide tunnels that corresponds to the main street plan above. They call it the Transfer, because small trucks use it to deliver goods around the city. The pods are deactivated during the day, but at night it’s a different story. It’s as bad as the ground above. 

Pollux knows details that would be dangerous for a newcomer. The tunnels hold hundreds of additional passages, utility shafts, train tracks and drainage tubes that work together to form a multilevel maze. Some offshoots might require gas masks, have live wires, or rats the size of beavers.

He'll alert the gush of water that sweeps through the sewers like clockwork, and anticipates when the Avoxes will be changing shifts. He even brings you into damp, obscure pipes to hide from almost silent cargo trains. And most importantly, he has knowledge of the cameras. There aren't many down here, except in the transfer.

You make remarkable time, compared to when you’d been traveling above. Still, after six hours, everyone is tired and irritated. It’s three in the morning, when Katniss suggests to rest. Pollux leads everyone into a small, warm room that hums with machines. He holds up his fingers to tell you that you must be gone in four hours.

Jackson works out a guard schedule, one that has you take watch right in the middle. You grit your teeth, unhappy because you won’t be getting much sleep after all, but Finnick objects and tells her that he’ll work your shift, and his.

“Stop it.” You whisper to him. “You need to sleep too.”

“I feel fine.” Finnick looks at you. “You can’t think straight when you’re tired.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yeah? And you become a walking hazard.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” He laughs. “Just be grateful I’m your best friend and go to sleep.”

You press your lips together, tilting your head back to rest against the wall. It’s not very comfortable, you adjust several times, until Finnick pushes your head to rest on his shoulder. You let out a snort, and he shushes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, but it’s too easy to wake you. Finnick slides out from where he’d been sitting next to you, and you can’t fall back asleep. He sits next to Pollux, watching the opening you came from. You watch him quietly with tired eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Finnick murmurs to Pollux.

He nods, waving away Finnick’s concern with a hand. And then, he motions to you and Finnick, and signs the word ‘date’. You can see Finnick begin to turn his head in your direction, so you close your eyes and fight the smile that wants to come across your face.

It was only a matter of time before he asked, Cressida already did yesterday. She watched Finnick give you a hand down after doing a propo with Katniss. He made a joke, you crinkled your nose at him in response, and he told you that he thought it was cute when you did that.

Cressida had bumped your shoulder a few minutes later, and asked if you and Finnick were dating, or if there was anything between you two. You had to tell her that you and Finnick are only friends. You’ve known each other since high school, which was a decade ago. If either of you had feelings, then it’d be obvious.

You’re used to the assumptions by now, that’s why you’re not bothered by it, and you find it funny.

“No, we’re not dating.” Finnick says, you peek your eyes open to see Pollux blink in surprise, and begin to move his hands. Finnick lets out a laugh. “Yes, I know sign, so does (Y/n). Annie, the victor that was rescued, uses sign language from time to time to communicate when she’s having trouble.”

Pollux nods, making a face, and begins to sign again. Finnick falls quiet enough for the drowsiness to wash over you. You tilt your head back to sleep.

—

“(Y/n).” Finnick shakes your shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”

You take in a breath, holding it for a second, until it erupts into a yawn. When you open your eyes, you’re met with Finnick, making sure you’re alright. You squint, rubbing your face to make yourself more awake.

“You didn’t sleep well.” Finnick says, it’s not a question.

“I woke up after you moved.” You admit, “It’s fine, I fell asleep again.”

He makes a noise, going to open his mouth to speak, when Katniss shushes the group of you. She’s got her eyes on the entrance, listening hard. For a second, all you can hear is the humming of the machines around you, and then you make out the hissing sound.

“Katniss.” 

It echoes throughout the tunnels, coming back to you, repeated over and over. Katniss is confused, glancing back at you briefly, before looking away. She jumps at the sound of her name coming from inside of the room, and lands on Peeta. She waits, slowly pulling an arrow out to put on her bow, positioning it over the sleeping Peeta.

He jerks up before she can act on her violence. His eyes are wide, head whipping in her direction, but it’s not because of the arrow pointed at him. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

Katniss lowers the bow slightly. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you.” Peeta says. “Run! Get out! Go!”

Finnick gets to his feet at the sound of that, holding his hand out for you. You let him pull you to your feet, adjusting the straps on your body until they’re comfortable again. This makes the others move as well, Katniss returns the arrow to where it came from.

“Whatever it is, it’s after me. It might be a good time to split up.” She says.

“But we’re your guard.” Jackson tells her.

“And your crew.” Cressida adds.

“I’m not leaving you.” Gale shakes his head.

Katniss looks between the eleven of you, eyes going from person to person. “Okay,” She agrees. “Finnick, give a gun to Castor. Jackson, will you eject the empty cartridge from Peeta’s and load it with a real one? And (Y/n) do you still have the other Leeg sister’s gun?”

“Yes.” You reach for it, pulling it out for her to see.

“Give it to Pollux.” She tells you. She and Gale then give up their guns, handing them over to Messalla and Cressida because they have their bows. They give a brief lesson on how to shoot the guns, which is all you can afford to do at the moment.

Everything is cleaned up and packed into backpacks, including empty cans to avoid leaving a physical trail, just a scent. When you step foot out of the room, the hissing becomes louder, coming from a fair distance behind you. Without a second thought, you go out in front of Finnick, and you can feel the weight of him grabbing onto your backpack.

You try to move quickly and quietly, but it’s nearly impossible with this many people. The sounds of your shoes splashing in water, the clang of a gun against a pipe, and Katniss giving directions. Still, you manage to cover more blocks before the screaming begins.

You go rigid.

“Avoxes.” Peeta tells you without missing a beat. “That’s what Darius sounded like when they tortured him.”

“The mutts must have found them.” Cressida murmurs.

“So they’re not just after Katniss.” Leeg says.

“They’ll probably kill anyone. It’s just that they won’t stop until they get to her.” Gale says, and he’s right.

Katniss shakes her head. “Let me go on alone. Lead them off. I’ll transfer the Holo to Jackson. The rest of you can finish the mission.”

“No one’s going to agree to that!” Jackson says.

“We’re wasting time!” Finnick whisper-shouts, leaning over your shoulder.

“Listen.” Peeta whispers.

The screams have stopped, and the hissing has resumed, much closer than it was before. Katniss nudges Pollux wordlessly, and the twelve of you begin to run through the tunnel. She opens up the Holo when you reach a staircase, scanning for another route, when she begins to gag.

“Masks on!” Jackson orders.

Katniss forces her way through a door, stumbling out onto the Transfer. She begins to move, pulling out an explosive arrow to activate the pod. The streets are pastel, smooth, easy to run on. The road is empty from deliveries as far as any of you can tell, but cameras could be at any corner.

Regardless, she sprints for the next intersection, telling you to keep close. Finnick lets go of your bag, running past you to grab a hold of her. “Katniss!”

A beacon of white light encapsulates Messalla, who is as still as a statue inside. With his head tilted back, on the ball of one foot, mouth opened wide. You watch in horror as the flesh melts off of his body.

“Can’t help him!” Peeta shoves you from behind, making you stumble a step. “Can’t!”

You begin to move again, following after him and Katniss, dodging beams of light as they come down from the ceiling. You’re sweating bullets by the time you’ve made it to the next intersection, where a spray of gunfire brings you to a stop.

Peacekeepers are running down the Transfer after you, shooting. You swing your gun up to start shooting back, because you have nowhere to go past here. This is the pod that Katniss wanted to activate first before moving on. The others begin to join you, and together, you manage to bring down a good portion of the Peacekeepers before more begin to swarm in from the door you’d just come from.

You can’t help the startled scream that leaves your mouth when you realize that these aren’t, in fact, Peacekeepers. They’re mutts. They’re naked, about the size of a human, with heads that are jutted forward, arched backs and reptilian tails. They hound the Peacekeepers, living and dead, and begin to rip helmeted heads off of shoulders.

It’s only seconds before all the Peacekeepers are decapitated, and they’re slithering toward you on their bellies.

“This way!” Katniss shouts, hugging the wall and making a sharp turn to avoid the pod. As soon as you’ve successfully cleared the pod, Katniss shoots at it. Mechanical teeth burst through the street and begin to chew the tile to dust. She turns to Pollux, you keep your eyes on where the mutts should be coming from. “Forget the mission. What’s the quickest way above ground?”

Pollux moves, going down the Transfer and through a doorway. The shiny tile turns to concrete, Finnick pushes you in front of him as you travel through a tight pipe and onto a ledge that leads you to the main sewer. 

A yard below, a nauseating brew of human waste, garbage and chemicals slide by, bubbling when it touches the wall. It’s hard to tear your eyes away from the parts of the surface that are on fire, and you can physically see the vapor that it emits.

You hurry down the path, over a narrow bridge and into an alcove on the far side. Pollux smacks a ladder with his hand and points upward. Katniss turns to look at you, and her face twists. “Wait! Where are Jackson and Leeg One?”

“They stayed at the Grinder to hold the mutts back.” Homes tells her.

“What?” She lunges toward the bridge, and Homes pulls her back.

“Don’t waste their lives, Katniss. It’s too late for them. Look!” Homes nods to the pipe, where the mutts are coming out by the dozen.

“Stand back!” Gale shouts, firing an explosive arrow into the bridge’s foundation. It snaps, bringing down a good number of mutts.

With them being so close, you’re able to see what they actually look like. Their mouths are wide, teeth sharp, smeared blood on their reptilian skin. Their clawed hands and feet have chunks of flesh stuck between them. You gag.

The mutts throw themselves into the sewage without thinking, wanting to get their hands on you. Everyone open fires, and this lasts for a good few minutes, throwing everything you have at the monsters. They don’t die easily, though. Not even with a dozen bullets in their body, which causes everyone to come to the same consensus. 

You have to run.

You have no other option, especially because of the sheer volume of them that are still coming out of the sewer pipe. Finnick tries to make a grab at you to swing you toward the ladder, but you shove him first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t get a chance to when you point your finger and bark, “Go!”

Finnick begrudgingly grabs the ladder rungs and begins to climb up after Peeta, Cressida following directly on his trail. It’s you, Gale, Homes and Castor left at the bottom. You shoot what you can, making a big enough gap for Gale to begin to climb the ladder. When Castor goes to follow, a rogue mutt from the sewer river reaches up and grabs him. He disappears over the edge. 

“Go ahead!” Homes shouts at you, “I’ll hold them!”

You make it to the ladder, you’ve got your right foot placed on a rung, looking up to see how far you have to climb. You’re met with the sight of the Holo, falling down in your direction, projecting a bright blinking red light, and beeping like a dangerous bomb.

“No!” You scream.

Homes turns to see what’s happening, when your body slams into his, bringing the two of you to the ground. The mutts begin to pile on top of you, just as the bomb explodes.

The blast pierces your eardrums before you have a chance to cover your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the ground shake beneath you. A shower of wet and clumped matter rains down on you. When you open your eyes, you find that the mutts on top of you are gone, and with their sacrifice, you’re still alive.

You roll over, the mutts in the surrounding area are dead. You struggle to breathe through the smoke and debris that rains down from the ceiling above, your throat and lungs already raw from breathing in the poisonous soup below. You look at Homes, shaking him to get him to move, because the ringing in your ears is so strong.

He doesn’t move. You turn his head, and it moves with no resistance. You scoot away, eyebrows twitching, heart pounding in your chest at the sight of his face, half blown away from the blast.

You struggle to get to your feet, limping over to the ladder, which is covered in the gore from the mutts. When you look up, there is no opening like there had been previously. They threw the cover over. You begin to climb quickly, and at the top, you try to swing it open. It doesn’t budge.

They locked it.

You hang off of the ladder for a moment, taking deep breaths. You have to get out of here. You’re not going to be trapped here. You go back down, and shuffle through the bodies of the mutts to stare at what’s left of the bridge that Gale decided to blow. It’s not much.

It’s possible, though. You swing your bag off of your shoulder and throw it the distance to the other side. You watch helplessly as it slides on the ledge, coming close to falling. Right when you’re sure it’s going to stop, it slips over the side, and into the sewage.

You let out a defeated sigh.

You stare at what you have to work with, and it’s virtually nothing. The bag wouldn’t have helped much, anyway. It just had food and other supplies if you managed to get stuck down here for an extended period of time. 

That won’t happen, you’ll get to the other side of the bridge. You grab a hold of Homes’ body, flipping him onto his stomach to expose the back of his vest, which is clean of blood. You carefully push him to where the bridge should be, and then walk all the way back to the ladder, where you’ll start.

You can cross the gap, the issue is slipping on the blood. That’s why, when you break out into a run, you use Homes body as a launchpad. Your stomach is in your throat the second you’re off of the ground and flying over the gap. You come into harsh contact with the cement on the other side.

You get to your feet, starting to backtrack the way you came. It’s through the tight pipe, down to the doorway until concrete turns back to cute pastel tile. It leads you back to the Transfer, where the grinding pod has stopped. You pick up a piece of broken tile to throw at it, and when it doesn’t start back up, you go through it.

There’s a sea of bodies of Peacekeeper and mutt alike. Among them, you find Jackson and Leeg, both decapitated. You start to head in the direction of where you’d come from, from here. The sight of Messalla stops you, and you turn around to go back through the grinding pod.

You begin to walk down the street of the Transfer, taking your time, occasionally throwing broken tiles in the direction you’re going in hopes that it’ll set off a pod. The familiar sound of hissing seizes your heart, making you stop dead in your tracks. You turn your body slightly, afraid to see if it’s true.

It is.

You begin to run down the Transfer, abandoning your original plan of taking your time to find a place to crawl out. You have nothing to defend yourself with. You almost took the gun off of Jackson, but you thought that you were past the mutts and you had to worry about the pods. You should’ve known better than to trust the silence.

You throw yourself at the first door you see, slamming your shoulder into it because you expect it to swing open. It’s locked, a pain begins to blossom in your shoulder, but you push through, heading further in.

Every door you run across is locked. The mutts are practically on top of you, if you slow down for even a second, it’ll surely mean your death. You don’t know how long you go on like this for, triggering pods, trying to kill what’s sent after you, getting injured because of it.

It must be an hour later when you finally see a door ajar. You throw yourself into it, right as you step off of a tile that had sunk with your weight. It explodes, launching you further into the hall. This does nothing to stop the mutts, as it went off too soon. A sharp claw scrapes your ankle, beginning to pull you toward it, when you slam your foot into its absent face.

You manage to scramble back to your feet, hurrying to the ladder that’s waiting for you at the end. You cross your fingers that this latch won’t be locked, because it’s your last chance to get out of here. You can’t go back, they’re swarming beneath you. The ladder isn’t slippery this time around, you yank yourself up in record time, reaching the top of the ladder in a matter of seconds.

You shove the cover open, pulling yourself out. When you’ve cleared the top, you slam it shut, twisting the latch to lock it. The mutts pound on it from the other side, you sit directly on top of it, gasping for air after running for your life for an hour straight.

You hold your arms out, looking at the cuts and bites you’ve received. The blood that’s on your body is more than your own, it belongs to the mutts and Homes, too. You won’t know the real damage until you’re clean, and that could be days from now.

When you feel like you can move, you get to your feet, stumbling to the next ladder that’ll surely lead you to the surface. You’re not going to run around in this tunnel looking for the others. They have to think you’re dead, which means they’ve moved on to the next place. 

Thankfully, you know where that is.

At the top of this ladder is another cover, you open it to find that you’re in a utility room, which means that you’re in someone’s apartment. You pat down all of the pockets in your pants, trying to find a weapon. You come across something solid further down your pant leg. When you pull it out, you can see that it’s Finnick’s knife.

You let out a breath of relief, flicking it open. There are times when he makes you mad when he doesn’t listen to you. Other times, it comes in handy. If you run across anyone in this building, you have only one choice.

You open the door, heading into the room quietly. You can hear the sound of a television playing a room over. You slip into the hallway that’ll lead you to the front door, stealing a glance at the bedroom to see a Capitol woman with brightly colored yellow hair and white skin laying on a bed.

You make it to the kitchen and out the front door, into a small hallway with one other door. You leave down the stairs, almost going out to the street, when you see the light pouring through the windows. You back up, shaking your head. You need a disguise if you want to go out there. You’ll be spotted in the matter of minutes, every Capitol citizen knows your name and your face.

You sigh through your nose, going back up the stairs and into the apartment you just came out of. You fix the knife in your hand, creeping around the kitchen and to the hallway that leads to the bedroom. When you peek, she seems to be sleeping. Still, you don’t risk going up close, throwing the knife from where you stand.

Now you enter the room, leaving her body while you go to search through her belongings. You find several large coats, all brightly colored, and outfits you wouldn’t imagine wearing if it weren’t forced on you. You throw several aqua blue and lime green items onto the bed, pulling the knife out of her skull.

The front door is unlocked, so you relock it. In the woman’s bathroom, you start the shower, shedding everything you’re wearing to step beneath the warm water. It stings every cut on your body, you grit your teeth, watching as the water turns pink and doesn’t run clear for several minutes.

When you step out, you get dressed in the outfit you’d set aside. You tie your hair back into a tight bun at the back of your head, and opt for pulling on a brightly colored wig. As soon as you’re dressed and fairly disguised, you drag the woman to the utility closet, dropping her body down the ladder. The outfit that District Thirteen provided for you follows, as well as the bloodied bed sheets and towel. By the time you’re done, it doesn’t look like you were here at all. You shut the cover, lock the latch, and leave the apartment building.

It takes you a moment of wandering down the roads before you begin to recognize where you are. You’ve been here before, a couple times, actually. The Peacekeepers escorted you to these buildings, and then back to the Tribute Center when you were done working.

It takes you over an hour to get to the designer shop that Cressida was talking to you about. By then, the sun has risen and it’s got to be around noon. You enter through the door, trying to be casual about the way you do. It’s warm inside, there are pants and shirts and underwear made out of fur on mannequins, but there’s no sign that your friends were ever here.

“Can I help you?” A voice purrs. 

You turn to see a tall woman, who has been surgically altered to have the appearance of a tiger. With her skin pulled back tightly, tattooed to have black and gold stripes. Her nose has been flattened, there’s whiskers protruding out of her lips. She wears a long fur coat that matches what she’s wearing.

“Possibly.” You murmur, “Are you Tigris?”

“Yes,” She says, looking over your face, eyes squinting. “And you are?”

“Looking for some friends.” You say, pulling off the wig. “I was told by Cressida that you could help.”

She hums, walking past you to the door. You turn to watch her, body tense, terrified that she’s about to shout to everyone out there that you’re a fugitive. Instead, she turns a lock, coming back your direction. 

“Follow me.”

You do, she brings you behind a rack of clothes, sliding open a panel at the base of the wall. You peer inside and find that there’s a staircase on the other side. You look at her.

“Thank you.”

You have to crawl through the space, she slides the wall shut behind you. You go down the steep steps, eyes searching the darkness. You run into a hanging chain, which you instinctively reach up to pull on. Light fills the room, and you’re met with the sight of several people on the floor, now covering their eyes as they struggle to see their intruder.

It’s easy to spot Cressida, Pollux and Gale. You have to take a few more steps down in order to see Katniss and Peeta.

“(Y/n)...” Cressida’s voice is quiet.

“Where’s Finnick?”

The sound of moving fabric makes you turn your head. Finnick’s on his feet, coming in your direction, arms outstretched to take you in a hug. You run into him, pulling at his vest to bring him flush against your body.

He’s breathing heavily into your shoulder, a hand on the back of your head, the other wrapped around the middle of your back. “It’s okay.” You tell him, fingers wrapped in his curls. “I’m okay.”

“They won’t take you from me ever again.” Finnick tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You close your eyes. “I know.” You stroke his hair for a moment, and then pull away to hold onto his face. Finnick searches your eyes, you offer him a soft smile. “I’ll never leave you.”

--

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[ageofevermore]

ITS BRIGHTER NOW

SUMMARY — until you met your girls, you once believed love would be burning red, but it turns out, it’s everything in between, and that couldn’t be more golden. i wanna be defined by the things that i love, not the things i hate, not the things that i’m afraid of, not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night, i just think that you are what you love

PROMPTS — “sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you” & “will you stay with me?”

WARNINGS — mentions of battle, injury, anxiety, overall just fluff and comfort for arguably the best avengers and their girlfriend

Like every relationship, yours has its ups and downs. Although most times, you’re met with nothing but outstanding partners who try their absolute hardest to maintain open communication and boundaries, they’re still human, and Avengers, and while some consider that a fairytale circumstance, not many stop to think about how challenging it can be at its worst moments. Not many people, or any at all who aren’t in the lifestyle or one similar, think about how they’re gone for days at a time, sometimes weeks or months if it’s an undercover mission, and how when they finally do get back, they’re never the same as how they left. But honestly, how could they be? They’ve done things no average citizen would ever be expected to do, seen things and handled situations that are dangerous and traumatizing, and just like anyone else, those things haunt them. Wanda is better about unpacking those skeletons in her closet then Natasha is, but the both of them take things personally, and if things go south, it’s never good.

Both of your girlfriends had been gone from the compound for days. They’d been called out to an active Hydra base in Russia, and three days later, things had gone south and they’d been in active combat since. You didn’t talk to them much, with battles and timezones and everything else that got in your way, but you had heard through the grapevine that Wanda was pretty banged up and Natasha had been left with no choice but to shoot to kill after a particularly gruesome fight. Hearing that never got any easier, especially when they were halfway across the world and had no idea when they’d return. It was missions like these that made you yearn for a simpler life. One where Wanda was an artist, Natasha probably took up something flexible like tattooing, and you did literally anything else to just have some peace and quiet and promised safety.

You had met Natasha first, after Maria recruited you to join Shield. She had been skeptical of you, as she was of everyone, but you broke down her walls as easily as you’d picked the lock to Clint’s farm the one time you were placed on a strike mission together. She had been hurt pretty badly, and his farm was the closest place to land. That had been an interesting day, no thanks to your girlfriend who was draped across your arm with a shallow bullet wound and a startled Laura who was screeching about blood on her new couch. Things with Clint were still chaotic as ever, but he eventually got over you busting his brand new lock, and the two of you joked about it now, although now you had a key so no locks had to be busted in the event of an unplanned visit happening again. When you met Wanda, she fell into your dynamic easily, and at first, neither you nor Natasha had realized that you’d kind of adopted her as a third girlfriend until a drunken night when she ended up in your bed and never left. Now, sleeping without them is hard, but you’re forced to manage as best as you can, seeing as you don't really have much of a choice.

It was going onto the sixth night without them home when you finally retired from the couch, and decided to head to bed, figuring that at two in the morning there was no chance of them coming back until the next morning at the earliest. It was hard enough when one of them was on an active mission with no return date, but when both of them were gone, it truly felt like your heart was missing from your chest and you were just going through the motions and holding your breath until they got back. Most people only had one person to worry about, but having two people to lose, with jobs in this line of work, you felt like you were always looking over your shoulder and expecting the worst. As often as they could, your girlfriends declined missions together, even though they felt comfortable on the battlefield together and it was a comfort to not be alone, but neither one of them wanted to risk not coming home to you. They didn’t have a choice this time, so reluctantly they packed up their duffles and headed for the quinjet, with a kiss on your head and a promise that they would fight to come home to you, that they would try to make it back. There were still two mugs of tea on the countertop in the mini kitchen, and although it was disgusting and the tea had gone bad, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean them up. If that was the last thing they ever touched with you, when they were just Wanda and Natasha and not Avengers, you wanted the picture of mismatched mugs burned into your eyelids for the rest of your life. They deserved to be remembered as real, genuine, soft and stubborn, sometimes infuriating but lovable and loved people, not just heroes who had a cause when things went south.

You tossed and turned for probably an hour, groaning in annoyance for how empty your bed felt without them. How had you gotten so attached? That was the one thing you’d tried your hardest not to do when you got into this, and yet here you are, in Natasha’s t-shirt and Wanda’s panties, unable to sleep because the bed feels too cold and the walls feel too big and the room feels too empty and your heart feels misplaced. You’d heard somebody say love is golden once, not burning red, and you’d never understood that until a moment like this a few years ago, when Natasha left for the first time and you were utterly alone in the tower. They were golden, they were light, they were pouring rain in the middle of the day with the sun shining and not a cloud in sight, and they are the best moments of your life that you wish you could frame in a moving picture, because no, a picture can’t say a million words when it’s them. You need every word in the dictionary and then some. You will never be able to elaborate on how much you love them without falling short, and feeling like there's still so much you could’ve said. Everything felt so gray without them. It had to be after three in the morning when you finally fell asleep, probably closer to four, but you didn’t think about how long you’d been waiting up for them, just flopped onto your back and sprawled out like a starfish, and let sleep take over so you could have a few hours without consciously missing them. Missing them was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’re pulled from your sleep by hushed voices and a door closing, convinced that the hinges are louder at inappropriate times just to spite you. You try to ignore it at first, finally in a comfortable position and getting some rest after a long day of running trials with Cho, but the noises persist despite your displeasure. A sound between a groan and a whine is extracted from your chest when something bumps into the bed, and any thought of going back to sleep leaves your mind. Unlike your girlfriends who can sleep through a natural disaster and fall asleep again if god forbid it wakes them up, once your eyes open you’re awake for the day, and it seems like this is where your day starts.

Although with blurred vision from the very few hours of sleep in your eyes, you’re able make out Wanda hunched over the bed, grasping at her side that is noticeably bloody, while Natasha is digging through the drawers to your left probably attempting to find a loose fitting top for Wanda to change into. All exhaustion leaves your body at the sight of them, and you spring up, rubbing your eyes with a wince as they burn in disagreement with your current state of consciousness. Wanda’s head snaps up, on high alert, but she forces her shoulders to relax when she realizes that it’s just you and not a threat.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to wake you.” She apologizes weakly, through clenched teeth and apparent sleepiness. You wonder when the last time they got a decent amount of rest, when they weren’t looking over their shoulders in paranoia or tossing and turning in pain from an injury that couldn’t be properly treated, but you force yourself to not dwell on it too much. You can’t change the past, and neither can they, all that matters is how they recover, and how they need you to help them heal from everything they were exposed to while in Russia. You’re the clean up, another factor that nobody considers while talking about how romantic and protected you must feel having two superheroes as partners. If anything, you feel more exposed. Like all eyes are on you and a monster is always lurking in the room over.

“No, no that’s okay. I only went to sleep a few hours ago, anyway. Here.” You know that the shirt Natasha is probably looking for is the one currently on your body, and you offer it to Wanda with no hesitation, already making a b-line for her when she just barely has the strength to reach for it herself. You pull the bloodied top over her head gently, thankful that the blood it’s soaked with is dry, and her wound is covered in gauze, meaning they’d probably stopped by the medbay before they made their way in here. “A little banged up, aren’t you?” You comment, although it's rhetorical and you know she won’t tell you how it happened just yet. That usually comes a few days after the mission, when the trauma isn’t so fresh and they’re not still on edge that something else is coming for them. You help her out of her pants as well, thanking Natasha when she hands you a fresh pair of undergarments to pull up Wanda’s legs before you even have to ask.

“We’re still in one piece.” Natasha promises, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. She’s tense all over, but she does her best to relax as she holds you, grounding herself in the moment and not the nightmares that have been going around in circles in her mind since getting on the quinjet to come home. “We missed you.” She kisses the skin beneath your ear, lingering for a few seconds before she untangles herself completely and gets ready for bed herself.

“That’s all that matters.” You reassure her, pecking Wanda’s lips gently, knowing she doesn’t have the energy or the strength to match any moment of passion right now. It’s not something that bothers you, maybe it used to, just the slightest bit, but it’s a routine you’re used to now. “I missed you too.”

“I told Steve we’re not taking any missions for a while. Especially not together.” Natasha hands you another one of her tops to slip into, and watches you throw Wanda’s bloodied one into the garbage beside your vanity. She won’t wear it again, not when it’s got so much history now, even if you could get the blood stain out. Again, it’s a routine you’ve found comfort in. The clothes they return home in almost always end up in the garbage, no time for working through PTSD that’s stitched into the fabric when you can just get something new to start fresh in.

“That’s good. I heard from Maria how tough this one was. I don’t know if I slept much the first few days.” You hate to worry them, or make them feel bad, but they hate when you’re not honest with them, and there’s nothing any of you can do about them being sent out on missions, so it’s not like you’re haroboring negative feelings toward them directly, which they understand, but your girlfriends do a great job of beating themselves up about certain things out of their control, this being one of them.

“Or at all. We still have cameras, you know.” Natasha muses, thoroughly amused when you turn a deep shade of crimson and kick Wanda’s discarded pants up toward her. Your other girlfriend, who has been noticeably quiet through the entire exchange, is curled up in bed, looking unbothered by the conversation but intent on finally getting some sleep in her own bed without the possibility of being blown to bits by the enemy.

“Spying on me, are you Romanoff?” You tease, shutting all the drawers Natasha left open and picking up all of her discarded clothes to throw them in the bin as well. She thanks you silently with her eyes that are practically bleeding with pain and adoration, but you don’t say anything. This is the least you can do for them right now.

“Gotta keep an eye on my girl.” Although it’s an easy statement, you know that it’s riddled with nothing but genuine anxiety. Both of your girlfriends are worrywarts when it comes to leaving you alone, for any amount of time but especially undetermined chunks like this mission, and although its heartwarming to be so cared for, it breaks your heart to know that they have valid reasons to be afraid. Another thing nobody even considers when they make comments toward your relationship. Wanda makes a huffing sound beside Natasha and both of your lips twitch in amusement, “On one of my girls, sorry, malysh.”

“You both should get some rest.” You comment, seeing that almost an hour has passed since they stumbled in. You won’t be able to fall asleep again, and even if you could, you’re apprehensive to crawl into bed with Wanda and accidentally hurt her more, so you have all intentions of wishing them a goodnight and going to finally clean up the mugs of tea that are resting on the counter.

“Where are you going?” Natasha wonders, watching you closely, like she’s scared that you’re going to fall apart right in front of her. You hate these moments, when they’re first getting back and they still feel like they’re stranded in a battlefield. It takes days to get back to some kind of normalcy without walking on eggshells, and by that time, they’re usually cleared to start training again and working their strength up for the next mission. One day, you just want to be done, but they’re not ready yet and that's okay.

“To clean up the tea mugs you left before you went. I didn’t have the heart to clean them up, in case…” You train off, but Natasha knows what you’re going to say and her face sinks even deeper.

“In case we didn’t come back.” She finishes your thought, hand rubbing Wanda’s back now that the woman is on her belly, seeking pressure against her wound that’s probably aching beneath the gauze. She shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it, but you’re not about to scold her right now. She needs to be comfortable, any torn stitches can easily be mended tomorrow morning when she’s well rested.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, releasing the tension that gathered in your shoulders at the simple thought of losing them. They’re okay this time, you can let go of all that pent up anxiety and dread for the time being. But it crosses your mind that there's always next time, and they might not get so lucky.

“Will you stay with me? Please?” Wanda asks, voice muffled by the pillow her face is pressed into, her arms beneath her head as she gives Natasha full access to her back, and the aching muscles that have probably been pulled a couple thousand times since leaving. Natasha works harder at releasing some of that tension, looking at you with broken eyes that you can’t say no too. Your worries are squandered when Wanda speaks again, lifting her head just enough to be able to see your face, peering into your eyes with a passion and seriousness that burns you inside. “You won’t hurt me, stop thinking that. I just want to hold my girl.”

“Ahem.” Natasha clears her throat, and Wanda lets the slightest smile pull her tired lips upward.

“One of my girls, sorry, detka.” She apologies before dropping her face back into the pillow, tightening her grip on it when Natasha hits a sore spot in her back. The redhead keeps at it, knowing how easily the Sokovian can pull her muscles when she’s lifting heavy things with just her tendrils.

“Are my thoughts that loud?” You ask meekly, abandoning your intention of straightening up the kitchen and instead coming closer to the end bed, still without pants and just Natasha’s shirt that hangs to your mid thigh.

Natasha stops rubbing Wanda’s back in order to grab at your thighs and pull you closer, rubbing the skin of your legs the same way she had been rubbing Wanda’s back. Though she’ll never admit it, you and Wanda have a sneaking suspicion her love language is physical touch, and that just maybe, physically feeling you both silences her anxieties over you just disappearing from her. Whatever her reason, neither of you protest, and admittedly crave her touch by the end of the night when you crawl into bed.

“Mhmm, I promise I’m okay. Doesn’t really hurt anymore, s’just sore.” She promised, sounding half asleep the longer she lays, adjusting her head so her neck is turned toward both you and Natasha, but her eyes are closed, a content smirk on her lips that only grows bigger when she hears you sigh your agreeance and then feels the bed dip with your weight as you climb into bed.

“Lay your ass down, or I’m gonna fall asleep sitting up.” Natasha scolds, playfully slapping your ass as you crawl over her and into the center of the bed, which is no longer warm from your body. You settle in between them, humming contently when Wanda loops an arm around your waist and then Natasha pulled you into her chest, your legs intertangling messily beneath the sheets.

“I missed this. I can’t sleep when you’re gone, everything feels so empty.” You admit, letting your eyes close even if you’re going to have a few hours of painful silence and stillness before you can even consider actually falling asleep.

Natasha presses her lips into your head and Wanda tightens her arm around your middle, neither saying anything, but not having to as their words and their presence says it all. Surprisingly, you fall asleep in minutes, and not a single one of you wakes up for the next ten hours, desperately needing the rest all together again.

[shadesoflsk]

Number 71 with re2r Leon could be so silly *twirls hair and blushes*

hiiiii anon😼 That idea is so cute please I'm melting. For this one, I immediately thought about an amusement park date (is that the correct name ? lol), and that led to a photo booth kiss! And you're sooo right this idea with re2r Leon is so silly he's just ike that! I hope you like it, take care. !!

71. “Kiss me, quick!” summary: re2r leon kennedy x gn reader, just straight up tooth rotting fluff wc: 1.0k

After accepting a job as a cop in Raccoon City, he knew that time wouldn’t be enough to be with you. That’s why, every time he has days off, he does his best to make it up for you.

Leon had decided to surprise you this time. The only clue he gave you was “wear something comfortable” and while it was an ambiguous sentence, you obliged. You took one last glance at the mirror, making sure you looked the part when Leon whistled.

“Ready to go?”

It hadn’t been a long drive, at least you thought so until Leon stopped the car in the middle of the road. Confused, you turned your head as you observed Leon rummaging through his pockets. Eventually, he found what he was searching for.

“A blindfold?” Your voice carried a sense of curiosity in it.

“Do you trust me?”

“Hell no.”

“Darling…please.” He whined, his lips forming a pout as exasperation filled his speech. It was funny to tease your boyfriend every chance you get, but now you spare him the embarrassment. 

“Ok, no need to cry.” You took the blindfold and Leon made sure to check that you couldn’t see anything.

“How many fingers do I have?” He said as he lifted his hand, forming a three.

“Four. Now drive.” You couldn’t hide the silly smile that was forming on your face.

And with that, Leon’s hand gripped the steering wheel again.

When you finally arrive, Leon helps you get out of the car and the first thing you notice —besides the chill air— is kids screaming and giggles filling the atmosphere. At first, you thought Leon had brought you to a concert. But then again, kids wouldn’t be at a concert at this time of the night even if it is still early.

“Can I take it off?”

“Yes, let me help you.”

Leon gets in front of you and takes off the blindfold that prevented you from seeing anything. The previous darkness that blurred your vision is now disappearing as your eyes adjust to the neon lights that the scenario before you offers.

“Ta-da!” Leon’s lips curve into a cheerful smile as he extends his arms, showing you his greatest idea. He has been planning this date for days. Ever since he read this new fair was coming to town, he just knew he had to take you there.

He is the epitome of a good boyfriend, dates are always a must when he has free time. And even when he couldn’t be with you, he would leave surprises. A sticky note telling you how much he loves you? Done. Having flowers delivered to your front door? Of course.

“Leon I...” You let out a breathy laugh. Your eyes dart back from the scenario of countless games and rides lying in front of you, to Leon's eyes which look at you with a devotion and love that just makes your heart weak. “Thank you…”

And, as a way to show your gratitude, you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him, letting the warmth of your bodies embrace both of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and motions you to follow him.

You don’t know who was more excited, you or Leon. But with the way he kept tugging your hand each time he saw a ride he wanted to try, you may as well say him. He kept his vice grip on you all the way from the roller coaster, to the ferris wheel and to finally the haunted house.

After scaring the shit out of both of you, you decide to sit down for a while, catching your breaths as adrenaline still pumps through your veins. Your eyes, eventually, fall on a photo booth a few meters away from where you’re sitting.

Now it was Leon’s turn to be dragged around.

You both laugh in unison as you waste no time in getting into the booth, almost forgetting to insert the five dollar bill that the machine needed to work. Leon closes the red curtain and instantly pulls you closer.

You sit down, struggling to fit into the narrow and tight space the photo booth provided. Leon and you try fixing each other’s hair amidst the giggling fit you were in. The countdown for the photos starts.

“Leon! Stop laughing.” You mutter as you try to maintain a sweet smile for the picture. Leon, on the other hand, moved at the very exact moment when the machine snapped a photo. “For God’s sake Leon…” And as much as you feign annoyance, you are grateful for this little memory you are creating with him.

For the second picture, you both show a beaming and pearly white smile to the camera, pressing your cheeks to one another. However, as the first photo is probably blurry due to Leon’s inability to stay still, you decide to have the perfect picture just for yourself.

“Kiss me, quick!”

He almost didn’t hear you when your words left your lips. However, your instructions are followed to the letter, and Leon in a swift motion grabs your face. You smile between the kiss as you hear the camera making a click sound. 

You don’t pull away right away, letting the romantic display of affection linger for a few seconds before the machine decides to break the sweet and tender moment.

“Thank you. You can now leave the photo booth. Please don’t forget to collect your pictures.”

“Don’t pay attention—”

“Thank you. You can now leave the photo booth. Please don’t forget to collect your pictures.”

“Jesus… I get it” Leon mutters as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss. A dumb smile is plastered on his face as you admire his expression. You both walk out of the photo booth with your fingers interlaced, ready to see the results.

Needlessly to say, Leon stole that picture from you just to brag about what a pretty partner he has whenever he gets asked if he has a special one or not.

[cozage]

HIII CONGRATS ON 2k!!!

Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve all these followers <3

Could you maybe write a scenario modern scenario where you and Zoro go to the same gym, and eventually he starts to notice you and crush on you a little :0

Tysm<33333

A/N: Modern AU is new for me so I hope I did it justice :) 

Characters: gn reader x Zoro Total word count: 750

Gym Routine

Zoro tried to mind his own business in the gym. He threw on his headphones and had his own routine. He never made small talk with people while waiting for a machine, he never bothered anyone and he didn’t want to be bothered. He didn’t really care about the other people who were in the gym with him. 

But this was the fifth day he had seen you, and he couldn’t help but notice the two of you had almost the exact same routine. Which led to you both waiting for each other a lot. 

He didn’t necessarily care, but you seemed to always watch the person on the machine while you waited. You almost went through the motions with them, as if you were perfecting your form along with them. 

Which didn’t make any sense. You had perfect form. He had been watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

And you were doing it now, watching the guy on the rowing machine as you waited your turn. Zoro would’ve been intimidated, if he hadn’t found you so amusing. 

“You can go,” the man said. He had gotten in line first, but only by a few seconds. And he didn’t want to have you watching him while he did his sets. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed, looking back and forth between the green-haired man and the machine. “No, go ahead. You were here first.”

“It’s fine. Go.”

You hesitated for a moment, but decided to take him up on his offer. It was your last set before you got to go home, and you were eager to lay on the couch and finally relax. 

You did your reps and quickly jumped back off, gathering your stuff to head to the locker room.

“Do you come on the weekends?” the man asked you. 

“Huh?” You turned back to look at him. “Oh, no. I just come in after work. I take a break on the weekends.”

The man nodded. “Me too. Name’s Zoro. See you Monday.”

You gave him a polite smile. “See you Monday.”

He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so hard. Fridays were his easy days, and yet he felt a little nauseous from his routine. 

On Monday, he found himself equally nervous and excited about going to the gym. Once he got there, he was a little less focused on his workout and a little more focused on his surroundings.

“Zoro!” you called, waving to him. “I’ve been thinking about this all weekend. It has been haunting me!” You held your hand out. “I’m Y/N.”

He had also realized over the weekend that he didn’t know your name. Though, he only realized it because he was going to try and find your social media and see what kind of a person you were. Not for any reason in particular. He was just…curious.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. “Do you mind spotting me on this?”

You smiled back. “Not at all.”

By the end of the week, the two of you had become gym buddies. You all didn’t talk much, but you had exchanged phone numbers and gym routines so that you could sync up with each other every day and be each other’s spotters when needed.

Zoro shouldered his bag, the two of you getting ready to walk out the door together. “I was thinking-”

You crinkled your nose. “That’s dangerous.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Shut up.”

You snickered at his reaction, but quickly pulled yourself back together. “Okay, okay. You were thinking?”

He gave a hard swallow, trying to muster up his confidence again. “Dinner?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me and you?”

Zoro shrugged, as if the idea was just now occurring to him. “There’s this nice restaurant, if you want to go.”

You looked down at your attire. You were in baggy shorts and a tank top, and you probably reeked of sweat. “This doesn’t exactly scream nice restaurant.”

“Not right now!” He slapped his hand against his forehead, and you resisted the urge to laugh again. You certainly weren’t making this easy for him. 

“Pick me up at seven?” you asked, your eyes lighting up. “I’ll text you my address.”

Zoro finally gave a small smile of relief and nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

You practically danced the whole way home. 

[hotmessmaxpress]

Rosquez Horror AU, part 3

Vale notices the bags underneath Marc’s eyes on Wednesday afternoon, when he lands at the airport and sees Marc for the first time in over a week. Marc had a break between races and Vale expected him to have gotten at least some rest, while Vale is joining from a WDC weekend. He’s surprised to find that Marc looks so tired. 

“Vale!” Marc greets, happy to see him despite looking so exhausted.

“Marc,” Vale says happily. He doesn’t comment when Marc gets in the passenger seat of the car, forcing Vale to drive. Judging by the exhaustion on his face, it’s probably safer for Vale to drive. 

“You look exhausted,” he finally says, as he watches Marc’s head loll to the side and then jerk upright for the fourth time. “You should sleep while I drive.”

Marc gives him an apprehensive look. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be bad company.”

Vale smiles. 

“I’m happy to have you around, even if you’re asleep.”

Marc gives him a genuine, blinding smile, and Vale takes his hand. 

“Sleep, love.”

Marc falls asleep almost immediately, snoring softly in the passenger seat as Vale drives them to the track. He’s given up pretending to stay somewhere else, and isn’t wasting time checking into a hotel. He knows he’ll end up staying with Marc in his motorhome anyway, so he may as well go directly there. 

When they arrive at the track, Vale parks the car but doesn’t wake Marc. He wants to give him time to sleep, because he clearly needs it. Vale engages the parking brake and then opens a game on his phone, content to sit there while Marc gets the rest he desperately needs.

Vale finally wakes him up an hour later when he decides Marc’s neck is probably pushing its tolerance for the position he’s in. 

When he gently touches Marc’s shoulder, he’s shocked when Marc sits bolt upright, jerking away from him with a gasp. His eyes are wild and his breathing turns ragged. Vale holds his hands up in surrender.

“It’s just me, love. We are at the track. We can sleep when we get to the motorhome.”

Marc rubs the sleep out of his eyes and nods. 

“Okay. Good idea.”

Vale doesn’t mention the terrified look in Marc’s eye when he woke up, and he instead climbs out of the car and grabs his bag. 

The paddock is only sparsely filled, with only mechanics roaming around and getting work done. The media and medical staff will all come tomorrow, but for now Marc and Vale are left alone as they make their way to the motorhome. 

When they step in the door, Vale is surprised to see that all the lights have been left on, and the blinds are all open. 

Vale steps toward them to shut them. 

“Lay down,” he says gently. “I’ll close the-”

“No!” Marc protests. “Leave them open.”

Vale pauses, turning to look at Marc in confusion. 

“You want to sleep with the lights on and the sun in your face?”

Marc nods. 

Vale considers for a moment whether or not he wants to press Marc on this, but thinks better of it. He knows that Marc has been having occasional nightmares about the Cavities; he told Vale what he saw happen to the Pramac woman, who still has not been found. 

He hopes that maybe his presence can help stave off the nightmares enough for Marc to catch up on some sleep. 

“Okay,” he says, gently. “Let’s lay down, then.”

He climbs into the bed and Marc wastes no time climbing into his arms and falling asleep. 

Marc wakes up in Vale’s arms, finally feeling rested for the first time since the Shadow started haunting him. He’s at once both happy to have Valentino around and seized by terror that the Shadow will terrorize Vale along with him. 

Marc tenses, dragging in a shallow breath. 

“Good morning,” Vale says with a smirk. “Or, good night, I suppose.”

Marc slept all the way until night. He feels panic well up in his throat. The lights are all on, but that doesn’t mean they can’t go out. He swallows thickly. 

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” he croaks.

“That’s okay,” Vale says gently. 

Marc is so in love with this man. It nearly brings tears to his eyes that Vale is being this kind to him. He knows part of the flood of emotion he’s feeling is that he’s still so tired from sleepless nights, and the torment of the Shadow, and the memory of the days when Vale didn’t have so much compassion for Marc; didn’t have any compassion, really. 

“We should eat,” Vale suggests. “We can go pick something up.”

The thought of walking through the paddock right now makes Marc’s heart pound in his chest, but he doesn’t want to call attention to the Shadow. He hasn’t seen it since Vale arrived, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees it standing in the darkness, waiting for him to make a wrong move. 

“I- I am not hungry.”

“I am,” Vale says with a grin. “Come on.”

Marc allows himself to be tugged out of bed. He tries to keep his hands steady as he puts on his shoes, though his hands are shaking. 

When he looks out the window he sees that the lights in the paddock are all on. They’ll stay on all night, keeping the area illuminated to protect the valuable machinery housed in the garages and various buildings. He knows it’s meant to be secure, but he can’t help but scan the dark areas between motorhomes where the streetlights don’t touch. He holds Vale’s hand as they walk toward the parking lot, keeping the two of them in the center of the walkway and directly beneath the lights. 

It’s not until they reach Vale’s car that Marc sees it. 

It is frozen beneath a streetlight on the edge of the lot that has burnt out. It’s a circle of darkness among spots of light, and panic wraps around Marc’s lungs. He stares at it, knowing that it won’t move when he’s staring at it in the light. He takes a chance and looks in a panic at the car, seeing that the inside of it is cast in shadow. Without explaining, he turns his phone flashlight on, illuminating Vale as he opens the door and steps in. 

“Ow!” Vale says, covering his eyes as he turns the key. “What the fuck?”

The interior lights come on, and Marc turns his flashlight off. When he looks up, the Shadow is gone. 

Marc checks the backseat, a lump in his throat. 

“Marc?” Vale asks, and Marc realizes how odd he must look. He finally slides into the passenger seat. 

“Sorry,” Marc says. “I just thought you might need help seeing the keys.”

It’s a stupid excuse, but Vale keeps with his theme of giving Marc grace and doesn’t press him on it. 

Marc’s eyes keep drifting to the back seat, which is bathed in darkness every time they pass between street lights. Marc feels like he’s in a haze as Vale drives them to a takeaway place. Marc plays along as Vale orders and pays, and he holds the food on his lap when they drive back. He can’t shake the feeling that the Shadow is close by, and his tired eyes scan the side of the road. 

He sees it when they’re almost to the track. It’s still, standing, watching. Marc fights the urge to cry out. They’re safe as the car pulls into the lot, and Marc flips the overhead light on. He knows that it would only take seconds of being bathed in darkness for the Shadow to appear, slitting his throat with its claws. His hands shake as he thinks of Vale being hurt, and he opens the car door. He turns on his phone flashlight again, and Vale holds a hand up to block his eyes but doesn’t complain as he shuts the car off and climbs out. 

Marc nearly throws up as he shuts the door and sees the Shadow, now watching him from the dark backseat. Marc stumbles backward and nearly drops their food. Vale comes up to him and rests a hand gently on his back. 

“Marc, are you okay?”

Marc sucks in a deep breath. He can’t manage to respond. His eyes are locked on the eyes of the Shadow. Its eyes are lifeless, so dark that Marc’s panicked brain wonders if he’s really looking at eyes. It’s smirking at him, and Marc whimpers.

Vale grips Marc’s shoulder. He gasps and looks away for only a split second, and when he turns back around it’s gone. 

“You have to tell me what’s wrong,” Vale begs. “Now. I thought you were just tired, but I’m scared.”

Marc swallows.

“I’m being stalked by a Shadow.”

Vale’s eyes widen, and he looks around them. 

“No, an alert would have gone out by now,” he insists. “If one were detected in the area.”

Marc shrugs. “Maybe they missed it.”

Vale looks at him in concern. 

“Okay,” Vale says gently. “Okay. We can go back to the motorhome and figure this out together.”

Marc knows there’s nothing to figure out. There’s nothing that can stop a shadow. If he’s being stalked, there’s nothing he can do. He has to hope it gets bored and finds someone else or he will slip up and be killed. There’s no fighting, no running. Just surviving. 

When they wake up in the morning, the lights are all still on and they’re both alive. It’s a relief for Marc, but that doesn’t mean it can’t find him. In fact, many people who are hunted by Shadows are killed in the daylight; they’re lulled into a false sense of security and get careless.

Vale doesn’t seem concerned, even as Marc’s paranoid eyes scan all around the motorhome. 

“It’s okay, Marc,” he says. “Let’s have breakfast.”

Marc is on edge through breakfast and remains anxious the rest of the day. He does his media duties with a smile, practically a professional at lying through his teeth about how he’s feeling. 

Marc’s anxiety grows as the sun climbs across the sky and begins to set, casting longer shadows across the paddock and creating pockets of darkness. 

Vale seems to sense Marc’s unease, but he’s unfortunately as concerned as Marc. They’re walking along when Vale steps into a particularly dark corridor and Marc yanks him back. Vale turns to him with a flat look. 

“There’s nothing there, Marc.”

He’s not wrong, and Marc doesn’t want to argue, but he knows that it doesn’t matter if the thing was standing in the darkness. It doesn’t take them any time to travel between patches of darkness, and standing there for even a moment could call it to them. Marc makes sure to walk squarely in the light for the rest of the evening, hoping that Vale will stick close enough to his side to keep him safe. 

Things are fine until they get to Marc’s trailer after dinner, and Vale closes the blinds and begins dimming the lights. 

“No,” Marc says. “Please leave them on.”

Vale sighs but does as Marc asks. The air between them is oddly tense, but Vale leaves the lights on as they slip into bed together. Marc’s exhaustion overwhelms his anxiety, and he falls asleep tucked against Vale.

When he wakes the lights are off. 

His entire body seizes up with fear. The lights are on in the other room, so he realizes with horror that Vale must have turned the lights off. 

Marc looks up in terror and finds that the Shadow is standing in the corner of the room, staring at him. 

Marc is frozen. The terror of looking at it has overwhelmed him. It’s so horrifying to see the creature blending into the shadows, waiting to attack. It doesn’t move while Marc stares at it, and he finally manages to free his arm to reach over and grab his phone. He turns the flashlight on and the monster disappears, and he stumbles out of bed to turn the lights on. 

His knees are shaking so badly that he collapses there, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. 

Vale sits up, and Marc immediately wants to scream at him.

“Why would you do that?” he says, sounding pleading rather than angry. “Why would you turn the lights off? It was- it was there.”

The look on Vale’s face is nearly bored. 

“Marc, I checked with the Anomaly Bureau. There is nothing. There’s no Shadow stalking you.”

Marc wants to scream. He points to the corner where it was. 

“It’s here. It was in the room with us! It could have killed us. Why don’t you believe me? 

“There’s nothing there,” Vale says. “Marc, it’s not there. There’s nothing there.”

“No,” Marc insists. “It’s there! It moves when the lights are off, I swear.”

“It’s not,” Vale soothes.

Marc sobs. “I saw it!”

Vale reaches over and turns off the light.

There’s nothing. 

He turns it back on. “You’re tired and under stress,” Vale begins. 

Marc’s stomach jumps into his throat. Vale doesn’t believe him; he played along last night but now that he has managed to go this long without seeing it…  He doesn’t believe Marc is seeing one. 

Marc schools his face into a politely blank expression. He doesn’t want to fight with Vale over this. He is tired and under stress. He is coming down from his shock and horror and now he’s just tired. He stays where he is, simply staring at Vale.

“You’ve been through something terrible. I know that what you saw happen to that woman must have been terrifying, but it’s making you paranoid.”

Marc hears the undertone. Get over it is what Vale really means. Vale doesn’t believe that Marc is dealing with something real, he just thinks he’s gone crazy. 

“Okay,” he says, not allowing himself to agree or disagree. 

If Vale doesn’t believe him, there’s nothing Marc will be able to do to convince him otherwise, short of letting the thing kill him. As mad at Marc has been in the past, he really loves the man too much for that, so he has to accept that Vale will simply not believe him. There’s no point pushing back. 

“Come back to bed,” Vale suggests. “It’s not sunrise, yet. You need sleep.”

Marc shakes his head. 

“I won’t be able to fall asleep again.”

Vale sighs, and Marc wants to cry. He keeps his face impassive, not wanting to let Vale know that he’s in absolute despair. 

Vale observes him for a moment and seems to deem it not worth arguing over. He lays back down, and Marc manages to pull himself into a seated position.

“Turn the lights off,” Vale says, from where he’s shoved his face against his pillow. 

Marc hesitates, then stands on shaky legs. He turns the lights off and slides under the covers next to Vale.

His eyes lock on the corner of the room, where the Shadow has returned. It stands there, staring, until morning.

[chimchiri]

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 03 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out great writing

Previous Poll:

-----

“Rarity…”

Deep down, AJ knows she doesn’t want there to be any uncertainty about what this means to her. She doesn’t want to have to read Rarity for romantic feelings during dinner. It has to be a proper date or nothing at all. Though it might sting in the end, she’s going to have to rip the bandaid off. Inside her has lived a deep longing for this moment, long enough that she’s not sure what it’ll feel like once it’s gone. But at least she’ll never have to live with the guilt of a “what if,” and the pain of the unknown. She’ll be able to say she gave it a shot.

If it does end up badly, she knows at some point she’ll get over it. Hell, if the answer’s a no, maybe Rarity will just find the offer flattering and move on. Surely she’s used to turning plenty of suitors away.

“I’m callin’ because I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

She can feel the blood pumping in her veins.

“Anything, darling,” Rarity says, and the energy between them grows serious.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you for a while now,” she begins, taking a huge breath to make sure she’s still alive. Here goes nothing. “Would you…wanna have dinner with me? Just us, I mean.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then—

Rarity’s elegant laughter sparkles like bells in AJ’s ears—and she can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

“Is that what the fuss was about, dear? Of course I’d love to have dinner with you! Dining is much more pleasant with friends.”

…oof. Maybe she should have said it differently. Is it so unusual to Rarity that AJ would mean it romantically?

Though she can’t help but notice the slight tremor in Rarity’s voice, the brimming question of diffidence just beneath her perfectly curated tone. She has to know that AJ wouldn’t call so randomly and sound so nervous just to ask for bonding time between friends.

Well. AJ has to say it—loud and clear. She doesn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.

Her hands are shaking now; she feels like even a weak gust of wind could knock her over.

The voice that comes out of her own mouth—trembling, pitchy, almost timid—doesn’t even sound like her own.

“I meant”—AJ pauses; it feels like the room is spinning—“as a date.”

“Oh…!”

Adrenaline washes over her upon hearing that single reaction. Nothing matters right now except the voice on the line. Try as she might to stay focused, the pounding in her ears makes everything feel muffled. She feels like she does after finishing a rodeo.

Another sound on the phone, barely a murmur.

“Applejack, I—”

But Rarity doesn’t end AJ’s suffering.

Her grip on the counter tightens and she leans into it for support, the weight of her work-toned body causing the old wood to squeak.

The silence on the line is what kills her.

She feels like a lamb backed into a dark corner, timberwolf-shadows cast on the walls of her doubt-addled mind. This is certain death.

Seconds pass, each one growing longer and more painful than the last. She doesn’t know how to react; she doesn’t know what to say—or if she should say anything. All she knows is that with each passing second, fear and doubt cloud her mind until she’s blind with anxiety.

She shouldn’t have done this. This was a horrible idea. Why couldn’t she have just been happy as friends? Is friendship off the table now? What if Rarity thinks she’s a creep now, with all those times they went to the spa together?

Great, now she’s gonna be known as the stereotypical lesbian friend that hits on her straight friends—it’s a fucking myth anyways, but that won’t matter. Has Rarity ever even shown interest in a woman? Now that she thinks about it…

Hell.

AJ’s seconds away from telling her it’s a joke and just backing off. But before she can, she finally hears a response from her longtime crush, the heart-heavy ache that beats in her chest and haunts her dreams with a silver tongue and soft curls.

“Absolutely, I will,” comes the response, and AJ feels like she can breathe again, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Rarity, however, sounds breathless, like a feather wisp floating on a breeze. The usual high-pitch, energetic frenzy of her cadence has been replaced with a certain poise and composure that’s hard to place. Maybe reverence is the word AJ’s looking for?

AJ blinks twice, trying to form some sort of a coherent sentence. Her brain feels fried. And. She’s kind of in shock? It takes her a few seconds to process that this is a yes, and not the blatant rejection she was expecting.

While it’s not quite the answer she usually fantasizes about in her daydreams, it still pricks the back of her neck with chills—and a wave of relief washes over her.

“I…Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Okay. This is happening.

“That’s…that’s great news! Okay, well, uh, I’ll see you then and—”

She’s interrupted by a heartfelt giggle from Rarity.

“Slow down, darling,” she laughs, light amusement clear in her tone, “Where will we go? And when?”

Oh. Right.

AJ lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, yeah—sorry.”

“You must let me know what you have in mind. A lady needs to properly prepare herself…for a date.”

Rarity sounds a bit giddy now, and much more like her usual self again.

But. Shit. AJ hasn’t planned anything out yet. In her nervousness, she didn’t even consider what would happen after if Rarity said yes.

Hmm...

She could invite Rarity over. Cook something for her. Pinkie may do it more often, but cooking and baking are skills AJ takes pride in having. She knows she’s a good cook. Besides the obvious benefit of getting to show off, cooking for Rarity feels personal. It’s more work to do, but cooking can be very romantic. Plus, there are plenty of romantic spots on the farm. Though she doesn’t plan on dining on the floor of the barn, it’s still a farm (and a farmhouse) and she knows how Rarity can be. AJ would hate for one of her dresses to get dirty as a consequence. Even worse, get blamed for it.

There’s also the option of a more traditional romantic evening. A nice restaurant would mean less prep for AJ, and it shows Rarity that she knows what she likes. It would also give Rarity permission to go all out with her outfit, unlike the farm. (Though AJ has a feeling she’ll do that regardless.) She could put on a fancy getup herself and show Rarity she cares about the impression she makes when she’s not toiling in the fields. Oh, but the thought of leaving the fashionista unimpressed by her attempts at an outfit…it makes her itchy. She’d have to ask someone for help besides Miss Haute Couture herself. It’d feel a little taboo to have her pick it out for their date. While dining out means AJ gets to stare unashamedly at Rarity the whole night, it could also be…awkward to sit opposite to each other if it ends up being stiff. Hopefully it won’t be. It’s Rarity; she couldn’t be boring if she tried. And besides—they always find something to joke about, even if it’s themselves.

Then there’s the financial aspect of going out. AJ doesn’t splurge on anything. Ever. She would for Rarity, though. She’s got enough saved for that. Still, she gets annoyed at people trying to nickel and dime her on every little thing. If it comes to that, she hopes she can keep her annoyance to herself. For Rarity.

Ugh. What to say…

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