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need-a-fugue · 3 years

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Trustworthy (Chapter 3)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Does fluff warrant a warning? Well, before we get into the gritty mission, here be some fluffy fluff. Oh, and language. Because I speak that shit.

Thursday came sooner than anticipated, and with it came that awful rush of dread that enveloped you each and every time you set foot in an airport. You’d think you’d be over this by now, your job shuttling you off to the far corners of the Earth, making it so that the only way you could ever get to where you needed to be – Bogota, Juarez, Islamabad, home – was by plane. But… no. The fear of plummeting to an inevitably fiery death inside a giant can filled with the recycled breath of dozens – even hundreds – of strangers was one you were simply never going to get over.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Benny barks out amid a thunderous laugh as he watches you down another pill and chase it with a tiny bottle of vodka. “Is it even safe to take Xanax with alcohol?” he asks, his face screwing up in confusion, a hint of concern breaking through the amusement. “Are you so scared of flying that you’re willing to risk an OD?”

“Seems strange, given your profession,” Tom mutters as he sidesteps Ben to slide into the row of seats behind you.

You offer no reply, instead blinking your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the awful activity of preparing for takeoff. The doors haven’t even closed yet, people still steadily boarding the plane, your new teammates still stowing bags and chatting merrily around you, and yet you’ve already buckled in, pulled the lap belt as tight as it will go, and downed your second Xanax in an hour.

“She’ll be alright,” you hear from above. You crack open a single eye and look up to see Santiago looming over the back of your seat. “Fish,” he calls out, tossing a quick glance at the man still struggling with fitting everything into the overhead compartment. “You sit with her. Tell her about all the times you’ve flown. Keep her calm.”

“I’m calm,” you mumble under your breath.

He looks down at you and raises a brow, gaze holding yours even as he tells his friend, “And don’t let her pop any more pills.”

“No shit,” Ben chuckles as he steps out into the aisle, relinquishing his seat just as Frankie finally slams shut the door on the overhead bin. “We’ll have to scrape her off the floor otherwise.”

Frankie slides in next to you, the tiny armrest barely allowing for any space between you and the scorching heat radiating off of him. Normally you might be okay with that, it certainly felt good in the chilly parking lot the other night. But right now you’re feeling flush and hot and on the verge of possible combustion, the odd suck and click sound of the plane’s door shutting and sealing you in causing a bead of sweat to begin sliding down your temple.

“Truth be told, I’m not too wild about being on flights where I’m not the pilot,” he says, his soft voice pitched perfectly to sound just over the hum of the plane, the new buzzing in your ears, and the sudden woosh of air from the vent that he reaches over to switch on above you.

“Comforting,” you mutter, shutting your eyes against the harsh, dry air blowing down on you, but inclining your head back into the steady, cooling stream just the same.

“Just don’t tell her about how many times you’ve crashed, Fish,” Ben laughs from across the aisle. You bolt upright and crane your neck around the man beside you so as to stare the giggly child down, wide eyes gleaming with a very real threat that actually causes his smirk to break and a subtle, “sorry,” to slip past his lips.

Frankie takes your hand, pries it away from the armrest that you’d been holding in a death grip, and he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, encouraging you to lean back in your seat. “I’ve never crashed,” he corrects, shooting Benny a swift, reprimanding glare before turning back to you. “I’ve just… had a couple of rough landings. But each time everyone walked away fine.”

“Yeah?” you question, critical brow cranking high. “And how often do people walk away from rough landings on a commercial airplane?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not often,” he admits. “But they also don’t go down often, so there’s that.”

Your eyes blow wide, slight gasp catching in your throat as you eke out, “Are you trying to jinx us?”

He twists in his seat to look at you, his fingers wrapping just a little bit tighter around your hand as you inadvertently shake in his grasp. “Trust me, princesa, this is the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do this week.”

The heady bolt of fear subsides a bit, quickly replaced by a tinge of confusion – princesa? – and a hint of irritation. Your face twists into an overdone pout – “Don’t call me that.” – but you can’t deny that his words do, somehow, put you at ease. Or perhaps the Xanax is just kicking in. Either way, you find yourself settling back into the seat, body and mind both suddenly sluggish and heavy. You twist towards him, away from the window and the blinding glare of the early morning sun as it reflects off the stark white wing of the plane, and you let out a small disgruntled grunt as the too-tight lap belt digs into your hip.

Frankie easily contorts himself in his seat so that he’s able to face you bodily, smiling – perhaps teasing – eyes never disconnecting from yours as he too settles in and reclines his head to the headrest. “Gotta have some kind of callsign over the radio,” he states, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a coy, crooked smile. “You don’t like princesa… how about loquita?”

“Fuck you,” you bark out amid a snort of a laugh, the offended pitch to your voice and wide-eyed stare setting him to very nearly vibrate with stifled giggles.

He takes a moment to swallow down his obvious amusement, holding your gaze all the while. Then he clears his throat and pulls his features into a stern set. “Don’t take it personally. I’d call anyone who hates to fly crazy.”

You issue out a short, incredulous scoff. “Maybe if I were the pilot, I’d like it. If I were in control.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod and a sigh. “That helps.”

But the truth is, you don’t actually think it would help that much. Because, well… “What person in their right mind thinks, you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to ignore the fact that God gave me legs instead of wings and I’d like to leave the ground. I mean… the ground is the safe place, man. What are you thinking?”

He smiles over at you, a soft, tender expression that sets off a flutter deep in your core. “What kind of person wants to stay on the ground with everybody else when they can climb into the heavens and move through the clouds?”

You bite back the grin that begs to break out and instead flatten your face in the most deadpan expression you can muster. “Are you fucking with me right now?” He merely shoots a wink in response, the light from outside your window reflecting in his deep brown eyes as they pierce into you. You roll your own eyes, but can just barely hold back the quirk to your lips as you say simply, “You’re the crazy one.”

He lets loose with a soft chuckle and shifts further in his seat so that he’s entirely facing you. “You never wanted to play in the clouds?” he asks, grin pulling wider. You feel a new heat – a welcome and comforting one, not the panicky, dizzying burn from before – blossom inside of you as you notice a single dimple cave in on the side of his stubble-dusted face.

A long sigh escapes you. “I mean, I did watch a lot of Care Bears growing up,” you offer, working to keep your expression still and set. But his smile simply grows and it’s just a breath of a moment before you break and let loose with a beam of your own. “God,” you nearly whine as an airy chuckle spills out of you. “Play in the clouds? You’re so cheesy.”

“Hey, I happen to really like cheese.” He raises a rather serious brow as he asks, tone low and sincere, “Can you imagine what the world would be like without cheese?”

You force a stoic glare, bite back a smile. “It’d be terrible. No nachos or pizza…”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “All the macaroni would be naked.”

You release a soft sigh. “One third of those popcorn tins would be empty.”

“Or filled with, I dunno, kale-dusted popcorn or something.”

You snort out a laugh, nose wrinkling in disgust. “What would we eat with tomato soup? Grilled eggplant?”

He shrugs. “What would Green Bay fans wear to the game?”

And again, you laugh, this one full and buoyant. “Poor Wisconsin, their entire economy would collapse.”

“What about the French?” he asks.

And it’s your turn to offer up a shrug. “They’ve still got wine.”

He stares at you for a lingering moment before his eyes flicker just past and out the window. “Maybe it sounds a little cheesy,” he begins, ticking his chin towards you, towards the tiny airplane window behind you. “But look out there and tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants to climb out there right now and bounce through those fluffy little bastards.”

Your brows pull tightly together, a quick flicker of pure shock shooting through you and causing you to whip around so fast that a crack sounds from your spine. Outside the window are, in fact, hordes of white puffy clouds peppering the bright blue sky. “What…?” you choke out, utter confusion lacing the word.

When had you taken off? When had you reached altitude? How had he managed to distract you so effectively as you climbed thousands of miles into the sky in this deathtrap tube?

You stare out the window for a long moment, giving yourself time to breathe, to comprehend. Allowing your fingers – which had just clamped painfully down on Frankie’s hand yet again – to slowly relax and loosen their terrified hold. No, there’s no part of you that wants to go out there and bounce around in the damn clouds. No. Way. In. Hell. But there is a part of you that begins to get lost in the soft, subtle beauty stretching out all around you. It’s still scary as hell. But it’s also… amazing.

Frankie watches as you continue to gaze out at the sprawling sky, bright blue on this beautiful day, a day he’d like nothing more in this world than to be out in, flying through the wide-open sky. Your hand remains wrapped around his, even if the intense grip has slackened. And your shoulders are still nearly pressed to you ears, so tense and taut. But there’s a sort of wonder wrapping about you now too, a look of, if not joy, at least appreciation.

“Los cielos,” he mutters from behind, seemingly to himself, his tone dreamy and airy and full of something like… wonder. You toss a glance over your shoulder and catch the way the sun lights his face as he stares just past you, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. You stare for perhaps a beat too long, not realizing until his gaze slowly shifts from the window to you, catching you in the act. The dimple caves again, wide smile pulling once more as he locks onto your eyes, light laughter bubbling out of him as your gaze pings away in a swift moment of embarrassment. He squeezes your hand, tightening his grip on your fingers for a single, quick, perfect millisecond before he utters, honeyed voice once again carrying more than a hint of teasing, “Cielo.”

Confused, you look back up at him, your brow twisting. But you let out a groan the moment he tenders another wink, the moment you realize that he’s just offered up another ridiculous callsign suggestion. You roll you eyes again, but make no move to pull out of his hold nor turn from his heated gaze. “So much cheese…”

He laughs again, his grin pulling tight as he watches you settle back into your seat with an exhausted sigh. You raise a brow in question, in challenge. And the smirk fades to a stony façade as he gives a single, definitive nod and declares, as though all has been settled, “Cielo.”

000

The flight knocks you for a loop. Less than an hour in, you’re passed out, snoring away on Frankie’s shoulder. You wake at one point to discover a pool of drool leaking from your gaping mouth and soaking through the shoulder of his button down, but you don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, nor the grace to apologize. Instead, you lazily swipe at the mess and turn with an incoherent mumble before dropping your heavy head against the cool glass of the window. You’re pretty sure you hear the tinkling of laughter coming from across the aisle – pretty sure that’s the sound that woke you from your drug-induced slumber to begin with – and you can definitely discern the throaty whispers of shut the hell up and you’re an asshole, Ben coming from the man by your side. But you’re too laden with sleep to really process or care.

For the next however many hours, you dream. Dream of bouncing through clouds in a bright blue sky. Dream of slinking through the jungle with strange men by your side. Dream of falling and floating and somehow rising to fly. You sleep and dream – and snore and drool – until an all-too familiar laugh sounds from above, a barking command of, “Hey, get your ass up, agent,” echoing in Santi’s exasperated – yet amused – tone. You blink open your eyes, tilt back your head, and see both him and Tom glaring down at you as they stand – bent awkwardly from the low ceiling of the plane – in the row behind. “Everybody else is already lone gone, bonita. Get your ass off the plane.”

Your brow furrows and your middle finger rises steadily upward, but somehow the rest of your body feels too heavy to move and it takes a kindhearted gentleman in a tattered old ballcap to ease you to your feet and out into the aisle.

“The second one was a mistake,” you mutter wearily as you nearly faceplant into Frankie’s chest.

“Yeah,” comes from behind in an annoyed scoff as Santiago reaches over to collect your bag from beneath the seat. “I’m confiscating your Xanax.”

The ride to the run-down inn and resort – far from the city and cheap as all hell – passes in a blur. But by the time you arrive and check into your little bungalow, you’re feeling, if not refreshed, at least awake.

Everyone agrees to meet up at the tiny restaurant at the edge of the grounds in about twenty minutes, just long enough for a quick rinse and wardrobe change. And somehow you manage to be the first one there, allowing you the opportunity to have a quick chat with the bartender – which results in a free, giant fruity concoction – before settling into a table in the corner. You let out a relaxed sigh and breathe back in the humid jungle air, realizing only in this very moment that a part of you actually missed this place. That a part of you might just think of the Amazon as home. You glance around, take note of your surroundings – as you always do, always have done, even before your law enforcement training – and begin to watch the rather handsy young couple at the bar as they giggle and swoon.

It isn’t long before Benny jogs up behind you and drops into the seat on your right. He sets down a fruity drink that looks suspiciously like yours, making you wonder if the bartender treats all tourists to a free, sugar-fueled beverage and perhaps your flirting earned you nothing at all. But as the others meander in and join you, all with mere sweating bottles of beer in their hands, you decide instead that you and Ben must just be the most special of the bunch.

Of course, that notion begins to chafe once Benny turns to you with a wicked look in his eye and pulls his phone from his pocket, nonchalantly swiping though a parade of terrible photos with an all-too delighted smile. The first few show you passed out on Frankie on the plane, mouth gaping wide as you spill drool into his shirt. “Oh, God!” you gasp, only just now recalling the brief moment of near lucidity from earlier in the day. “You took pictures?!”

You give him a quick slap and try to grab the cell from his hand only to have him rear back and laugh out, “Wait, wait, these are my favorites,” before scrolling through the next dozen or so, each picture showing a steady progression of your drowsy head falling from Will’s shoulder down to his lap as the two of you sat in the back on the drive in from the airport.

“You talk in your sleep,” Will states plainly from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You cock your head suspiciously at him, gaze narrowing. “Liar,” you accuse despite knowing full well that it’s true.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a crooked grin. “Something about… sliding down rainbows?”

“Ooooh,” you drawl out, nodding your head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Frankie kept talking to me about Care Bears on the flight in.”

The man to your left takes a steady gulp from his beer, a swallow so huge it makes you think he’d been navigating the desert all day, desperate for a drink. “You were barely conscious for more than five minutes on that flight. You don’t have a clue what I talked to you about.”

“Better not have been anything dirty,” Santiago interjects pointedly.

You turn and pin Frankie down with an intent yet amused stare. “I definitely remember something about playing in the clouds.”

“Naked?” Ben asks as he jostles your other side with his elbow.

“Ahora, eso seria realmente el cielo,” Frankie mutters softly, ducking further beneath the bill of his hat and trying desperately not to laugh as you level him with an astounded glare.

By the time the food comes, your table has managed to outdo the small group of college students in the corner in terms of noise, filling the only partially walled-in establishment with a relaxed sort of banter and the occasional booming laughter. Benny continues his jokes and playful ribbing, eagerly pulling you in to blend with his tightknit group. Will and Frankie both remain mostly quiet, despite their comfortable-looking grins and occasional bursts of laughter.

Tom’s demeanor is similar, perhaps a bit less relaxed, a bit more guarded. Even after claiming to be cool with your presence on this little escapade, he’s anything but warm and welcoming to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that he continues to pull Santi aside to whisper what you can only assume are either covert sweet nothings or – far more likely – mission-related thoughts and plans that he still doesn’t quite trust you with. You shrug it off… it’s fine, really. You’ve had to slip into other cliques and clusters before, wedge yourself into a special operations task force or try to integrate in with local police to gain access to intel. This wasn’t your first rodeo. And frankly, compared to the Federales in Juarez, all of these guys had welcomed you into the fold with wide-open arms.

It isn’t long – or it doesn’t feel like long, anyway – before Santi rises and tells everyone that he’s heading to bed. A shit-eating grin passes over his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar looking pill bottle. He shakes the remaining Xanax around and states simply, “For once, I’m actually gonna sleep great.”

Tom follows hot on his heels after issuing out – in a tone equal parts dad and captain – “We’re up at 0500 and I don’t want any of you to be dragging ass.” Everyone nods their assent, but the moment he and Santi are out the door, Ben promptly buys another round and the four of you who remain settle into a new rhythm that lasts until the tiny restaurant and bar finally shoos you out so they can close for the night.

The lot of you wander the grounds of the inn for a bit after that, indulging in the cool breeze after hours of sweltering heat, and continuing to laugh and talk. But as you make it back to the bungalows, the brothers break away, Ben disappearing into his room without so much as a grunt of goodbye, and Will raising a pointed finger high and telling you and Frankie both to, “Get the hell away from these mosquitos and go get some sleep. Otherwise, Redfly’ll be raining down shit on everyone in the morning.”

But you’re now more awake than you’ve been all day, sated from a too-large dinner and positively sloshing with alcohol, well-rested after your many-hours-long nap during your travels, and you just can’t seem to make yourself shut up, not even once you arrive at your door.

And Frankie seems to welcome it, listening intently as you babble on, filling the gaps with assertions of his own. Now that Ben’s no longer around to monopolize the conversation, you and Frankie develop an easy back and forth, the dialog taking on a soft, steady, even cadence. You talk about everything, the two of you. About Mexico, because you spent nearly four years in different parts of the country, and he still has family in a few of those areas. And you talk about all the places you’ve been, you with your sprawling career and general lust for travel – Road trips are more my thing though… and camping, hiking… Have you ever been through Bryce Cannon? God’s country. – and Frankie with his time in the military and more recent contract work – Yeah, nature’s great and all, but have you walked through the bazars in Marrakesh? Unbelievable. Though I wouldn’t say no to a day of fishing off the Gulf.

You talk about Santiago, each sharing stories of the man who had only just become a trusted colleague and friend for you over these last few years, but had been one of Frankie’s most beloved people for well over a decade. And that leads you into asking about the other guys too, each of whom you find yourself getting to know better and better from even just the few stories he shares as you two recline back into the railing of the bungalow’s small porch. He even manages to get you comfortable enough to share some stories about your own comrades over the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly… and the long-time partner who bled out in your arms following a bust outside of Albuquerque. Though you don’t spend much time on that, eager to move on almost the moment that your partner’s name passes through your lips.

The look on his face, though – as you share those sparse details from that most awful day – tells you immediately that Frankie understands exactly what it’s like to lose a partner, a brother in arms. And while that isn’t a surprise in the least – he had just gotten through telling you that he spent fifteen years in the special forces after all – that knowledge does cause you to feel a whole new pull. It makes you scoot a bit closer, makes you drop your hand easily atop his, your sweaty palm gliding along his warm skin before he reciprocates by slowly turning in your grasp and twining his fingers with yours.

“So,” he breathes out after a moment. “You’ve been out here for… three years?”

You nod, a soft smile blooming as you think about this bizarre and stunning corner of the world. “About that.”

His gaze travels out into the lush jungle located just beyond the row of bungalows, small porchlights illuminating just enough of the canopy to remind you both of where you are. “What’s the city like?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s nice,” you rush out. “Small, relaxed…” Your lips purse together as you think on what to say, how to describe this place that has been your home for three years now. “Lot more tourists than you might think. It’s funny, even the people who live here – in the city at least – a lot of them are transplants from Bogota.” You give a nonchalant shrug – “The streets flood a lot. That’s not always fun.” – and relish the deep chuckle emanating from the man by your side. “There’s a legend about how it got its name,” you say suddenly. “I’ve never really gotten any details about it, but supposedly a Colombian soldier fell in love with an Amerindian woman…”

“Leticia,” he supplies, the name slipping from his tongue in a perfectly accented drawl, falling out into the dark night in a soft, low rumble.

You nod. “And he named the city after her.”

Frankie huffs out a small laugh, a light and airy rumble. His gaze continues to wander, dark eyes shifting along the barely perceivable horizon. “Must’ve been a hell of a lady,” he mutters absently, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You watch him closely, his features soft and relaxed in the low light, the slightest hint of a smile still riding his lips. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 4 years

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Sackler, my love. Sackler. I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed him to give me a little slap or a few. I'll let you and Sackler decide..

A/N: @mariesackler I LITERALLY CANNOT WITH YOU... I HOPE YOUR CUNT IS AS SLICKED UP AS MINE WAS WHEN I WROTE THIS. I LOVEY OU MOST MY DARLING!

Warnings: Cock slapping, face fucking, cum eating, cum swallowing, using cum as lipgloss if that’s a warning?, all of the cum I can fit in to one fic, mentions of huge cocks (horsecocks if you will), DOM!Sackler, degradation, slight edging, slight breeding kink, doggystyle, dirty talk, stuffing like an Xmas turkey, just all of the smut possible, a little fluff at the end for my baby

*SNAP*

‘My kitty misses you baby 😘’

*Three bubbles immediately popping up*

‘When I get home, you had better be on your knees waiting for me, kid’

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach as your cunt clenched the open air. Your smirk staring through your phone as you marveled at the skill and lighting it took just to send a simple picture.

You bit your lip, bringing a finger to them as you rubbed the moist skin, looking at your closet to figure out what to wear to impress him even more.

He was out on an audition, the prepping before meaning there was no horsing around or funny business to be had. He had to get into the zone, going over his lines endlessly, even dressing in character to nail it down just right.

The pent up tension was too much for you. It had been two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Since he touched you, made you feel utterly full of him while he whispered sweet nothings over your sated figure.

You missed the sound of the headboard knocking, the smell of his musk wafting through your nose as his sweat would drip over your tits while he fucked you into oblivion.

His dirty words would have you moaning like an absolute whore for his cock. You were practically on the verge of tears as you got up from the bed, rifling through your clothes while your body shook in the open air of the bedroom.

You slipped on a lace number, the cleavage spilling out the top of it in the best way as you tightened the straps of the garter belt, your thighs looking extra plump as the curve of your ass hugged the thong in a sinful way.

You finished the look with a killer red lip, smacking your mouth together to spread the gorgeous color that paired so perfectly with your garb. You tapped your foot, glaring at yourself in the mirror to decide whether or not you’d finish the masterpiece off by wearing his favorite pumps. The ones that he stated ‘made you look like his favorite pornstar’ had been sitting collecting dust since the beginning of the year, begging to be worn.

“Oh, what the hell,” you relented, sauntering over to place them on your feet, then admiring your figure in the mirror, “Mhmmm, yes ma’am,” you playfully smacked your own ass, satisfied with this plan as you glanced at the time on the clock.

He’d be home any minute now. You readjusted your tits in the mirror, puckering your lips to make sure nothing had gotten out of place, and clicked over to the front door, situating yourself like the good girl you were.

The burning sensation in your pelvis a full-on flame as you heard his heavy footfalls climbing the stairway. You jumped a little, so excited you’d taken this chance to rile him up, waiting in anticipation for what he was going to punish you with for being such a bad girl.

The key turned in the lock, his heavy body pushing it open, his head hanging low looking at the knob while he slammed it tight, locking the deadbolt before dropping his messenger back with a thud.

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair as he threw the keys in the bowl, then turned around to find you perched looking so delicious.

“My lil’ brat does take orders,” he growled, his t-shirt hugging his taut muscles as he surveyed his prize in front of him, “doesn’t mean I’m not gonna punish you for makin’ me all hard before my audition.”

You whined, watching his long legs come in front of you, doe eyes gazing up at his dilated pupils, “I know I was a bad girl, baby,” putting your hands behind your back while you arched your back to show your jugs to him, “I deserve everything you’re gonna give me,” showing your tongue as you wiggled your ass for him.

“Such a lil’ slut I have,” he cooed, running a thick finger down the bridge of your nose, showing it in your mouth as he watched those cherry red lips suck them feverishly, “so fuckin’ needy for my cock,” your whines emitting from deep in your belly as he pulled his digits in a pop from your face.

He chuckled darkly, taking his shirt off to reveal his thick body, undoing his belt and his fly as you watched hungrily. His cock popped out like a jack in the box, the springing making it bob deliciously in front of you as the tip wept a thick bead of precum. You licked your lips unconsciously, your tongue falling out again as you moaned from the sight.

“You want me to fuck your face that bad?” he ran a thick hand up and down the shaft, inching closer as it touched your waiting tongue ever so slightly, a single tear falling down your cheek in anticipation.

Just as you thought you’d get a release, he whipped the side of your face as hard as he could with his member, the stinging of it radiating as you audibly cried from the blow.

He reveled in your cries for him, grabbing your face with his free hand as he wiped a tear from the other cheek, “you’re gonna take my whole cock, kid,” pushing your uninjured side to face him and slapping you with his dick to match, “and you’re gonna swallow like the good whore you are,” bringing your half bitten lip to line a precum coating over the lipstick.

You nodded, black streams mixing with the raised bumps on your cheeks as you glazed your lips with him.

“Open that fucking mouth,” he commanded, watching your gaze meet his, barely giving you any time to breathe as he bottomed out to your windpipe.

The sensation taking you aback as you gagged around him, his hands finding clumps of your hair while he held you still on his pubic bone. He mused at your moans, feeling your tongue graze his shaft, your lips pulse on his base, and the feeling of your hair in his fingers.

He began to move, stilling your head as he plunged into your mouth with deep heavy strokes. His breathing erratic and his grunts low in his gut as he watched you swallow him whole.

“That’s my g-good g-girl,” he hissed, the feeling of your mouth closing on him making him throw his head back in utter pleasure.

You rolled your eyes back, reveling in his tip knocking your uvula, his hands in a death grip on your head while his balls slapped the underside of your chin. His smell was tantalizing, his hair falling over his chiseled face in the prettiest way as he split yours open with everything he had.

His strokes became erratic, his balls tensing as his stomach muscles flexed in front of you. Your hands coming to grab his tree trunk thighs as you dug into the skin, his feral moans egging your spit to fall out in ribbons on the floor.

“F-fuck kid!” he groaned, his body stilling as he emptied his ample load down your gullet, the feeling spreading throughout your entire body in a tingly wave.

He pulled off you, his tip twitching as a string of spit still connected you both. Your breaths coming in hot and heavy as your hooded eyes looked up at him.

“Was I a good girl, baby?” pushing your tits with your arms to see if you deserved a turn to be released from your hell.

“The best girl,” he panted, lifting you on your heels as he took in the rest of the pretty outfit you’d picked for him, “and the prettiest one too,” running a hand over your throat as he pulled you to his lips.

“I fuckin’ love these heels on you,” he cooed, watching you lead him to the bedroom, his half-hard cock bobbing as he waddled behind you, gripping your hand in his.

“Well, I fuckin’ love dressing up for you,” wiggling your body as you crawled on the bed, the sight making him completely hard again as he smoothed his hands on your ass.

“You all wet for me, kid?” pushing your thong to the side as he brushed his thick fingers on your folds.

“Mhmm,” feeling your slick as he lined up with your center, “just perfect for me,” pushing in completely in a collective sigh of relief.

“Mother of fuck,” he gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as you pushed your ass into him.

His speed picking up slowly as the headboard began to knock its melodious tune, “G-God I-I missed y-you,” whining into the mattress as you met his thrusts.

“I-I love t-this pussy,” he groaned, bruising your hips as he knocked your cervix with every stroke he made.

His balls slapping the top of your mound, pinging your clit in the most perfect way as you gasped for more.

“Y-you’re gonna be s-so full of me you’ll b-be s-sloshing around the apartment the r-rest of the n-night,” he gritted out, feeling your velvet walls clench him in your impending orgasm.

“F-fill me up, Adam,” you cried, bringing your hand to rub your clit in a fervor as the electric current boiled over in your body, the much-needed release washing over you in a cascade of elation.

High pitched moans penetrating the air as he punished your cunt with his strokes, his balls clenching again as he felt your slick come over his dick. He pushed further and further, finally emptying his seed deep within your body, completing the warmth as it spread again in your lower half this time.

He stilled, putting his arms to drape over your ass, pulling himself out as he slumped on your back, his heaved breaths coming in high and fast.

His pulse rang in his ears as did yours. His chest pounding as he became thirsty and hungry, his balls hanging empty between his thighs as you dripped his spend from your gaping cunt.

“What do ya say we order some Thai,” he chuckled, kissing a trail on your lower back as you laughed back under him.

“I’m totally okay with that babe,” reaching a hand around to pat his head.

“You want a Gatorade, kid,” lifting up to take a centered last heavy breath, watching your turn around in fucked pleasure.

“Can’t be dehydrated ya know,” his toothy grin meeting your eyes as his lips began to pout.

“I would love one babe,” smiling back and wincing on your ass now, “I’ll call the place to order the food,” reaching to grab your phone as he rushed to your side, enveloping your face in another deep kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered, pushing a piece of stray hair from your face, rubbing his nose on your cheek as he nuzzled you.

“I love you most,” you cooed back, rubbing yours on his opposite before pecking him on the lips again.

And with that, he jumped over the pile of pillows to the fridge and gulped an entire gallon of red fluid before you could even order your pad thai and his spicy beef noodles.

______________

IM GONNA HOW MANY TIMES A DAY I CAN FIT HORSECOCK INTO MY WRITING... SPOILER ALERT THE LIMIT DOESN’T EXIST FOR SARA LMAO

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole

LMK if ya would like to be added to the taglist! All of the love!

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x you #adam sackler x female reader #sackler x you #sackler x reader #girls hbo #500 follower celebration

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jawabear · 4 years

Note

Hi~ Can I request a fic? for season 3 Javier Peña. Maybe some soft Javi. With y/n being a colleague, but struggling to get back to work because of mental trauma. If that's ok with you.

Don’t leave (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hey! Here’s another request for my sweetheart Javi. Thanks to anon for helping out a little more. However, I feel like this isn’t great? But I really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, injury detail, mentions of blood, violence, tears, mental trauma, comfort

Summary: After a mission turns south and months of being off work, she has to face the reality of going back to work.

She didn’t know what came over her.

Everything moved in slow motion as one of the men lifted their gun and pointed it over at Javier. She wasn’t in control of her legs as she ran between them.

Her blood seemed to run cold when the gun went off. There was a ringing in her ear. She could hear another muffled gun shot and the muffled call of her name but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything other than fall to the ground.

“Fucking shit (Y/N)!” Javi yelled as he crawled over to her lifted her shaking torso into his lap. “Why the fuck did you do that, you idiot!” he scaled her. He pulled his radio from his belt and gave an order to call for an ambulance before he threw his radio to the ground.

She looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear. She was barely breathing and her lips were trembling. He looked down her body to her stomach that was flooding blood that was seeping into her blue shirt. “J-Javi..” she whimpered. Her voice was barely there though.

“The ambulance is on its way (Y/N). You’re going to be okay” he told her trying not to cry at the sight of her lying petrified in his arms. “You’re gonna be okay (Y/N)”

Javier didn’t move from her. He held her almost lovingly in his arms, gently stroking her hair as he whispered the same words to her over and over again, it got to the point where he was more convincing himself than her was convincing her. But she never responded to him. She just continued to stare at him with the same terrified eyes.

“Peña, la ambulancia está aquí” (Peña, the ambulance is here) a voice came over the discarded radio beside him.

He picked up the radio and put it back on his belt. “Hold on (Y/N)” he whispered to her. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other under her torso and carefully lifted her into his arms as he stood and walked as quickly as he could outside where the ambulance was waiting.

The paramedics raced over to him seeing the state that (Y/N) was in. He walked her over to the ambulance and placed her onto the bed on the inside. She gripped hold of him like her life depended on it, because it felt like it did. She felt that if she let go of him, that would be it for her. “Don’t leave” she whispered desperately.

“I won’t leave you (Y/N)” he told her as he managed to pry her arms from him “I’ll come see you. But you need to go right now”

“Javi..” he had to ignore her as he jumped out of the back of the ambulance. He took one last look at her, tears beginning the fall down her cheeks, either from pain or from the fact he was leaving her. He felt unbelievable guilt wash over him but he had to close the doors.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath as she splashed water over her face bringing her back into her equally painful reality. She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and hated the sight. Seeing how her eyes were red and puffy for her uncontrollable tears of fear. Seeing dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Well, peaceful sleep. The sleep she had been getting was plagued of the memory of the event or nightmarish versions of it. Although she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact it was a reality.

But the scar on her stomach was evidence enough.

Taking in a few deep breath, she turned off the tap stopping the water. She stood there for a moment longer, griping the sink in both hands as to try and ground herself. She was trying to brace herself for today.

She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would most likely suffer for the whole day. But she had to go back at some point, and if she didn’t now, then she never would.

(Y/N) let out a slow breath and pushed herself off the sink and slowly made her way out of her bathroom. She now face a new challenge; getting dressed. She already had her clothes laid out on her bed, but she didn’t quiet know how to go about it. If she were in any other state, it would be simple. But the injury to her stomach made it all the more difficult.

It had been six months almost to the day since it happened. She had been at home for those six months, bored out of her mind and in incredible pain. She spent most of her day in bed for it was too much to move. Only getting up to use the bathroom, get a drink or make some food. But even doing that let her in excruciating pain and short of breath.

The highlight of her week would be when Javier would come round to visit her, to check on her. He always brought over some ice cream because it was easy to eat, plus she loved it. But since he had been delving deeper and deeper into the Cali Cartel, he had been flying between Bogotá and Cali quite a lot so his visits became less and less frequent, leaving her all alone with her nightmares.

But she didn’t blame Javi for leaving her alone. He was doing his job and she wasn’t prepared to get in the way of that. She was convinced that if it wasn’t for him, she would be dead anyway. She was immensely thankful to have him as a friend.

(Y/N) was also thankful that the ambulance showed up when it did. Not just because it meant she got to the hospital quicker, but because she was a second away from confessing how much she loved him. She believed she was in the verge of death and didn’t want to go without telling him, but she knew if she did, she would have to live with the embarrassment that he did not feel the same. They were friends. Just friends.

Somehow she managed to get changed into her fresh clothes. Today she was returning to work. Ambassador Crosby had warned her against it saying she still needed time to rest both physically and mentally, Javi said this too but she couldn’t spend another minute at home on her own. She had to get back to work.

The journey from her apartment to her car took twice as long than it should have, and the journey from her car (in her car) to the embassy was just the same, but that was partly due to traffic.

When she finally made it to the embassy, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her car. She sat and watched people walk in and out of the building. To them, everything was normal. But to (Y/N), having to walk back into the building was like walking into the jaws of death.

(Y/N) leant her head on the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself down and hype herself up for going back inside. “Come on (Y/N)” she whispered to herself “you got this far. Just a few more steps and you’ll be there”

She drew in a few more breaths before grabbing her bag and pulling herself out of her car. She took her time in walking to the embassy, those who were outside gave her looks as she walked past them but she tried her best to ignore them. But when she got inside it was no better. Everyone looked at her and whispered amongst themselves. She was the desk agent that got shot. Thats what she was known as now. Not the smiley, happy, caring agent she was before. She was the one who got shot.

To get to her own office she had to walk past Javi’s. She looked into it and saw it was empty. She also noticed that Van Ness and Feistl’s desks were empty too, meaning they were all out scoping for leads in the Cali cartel, most likely in Cali.

Finally she got to her office and saw a pile of papers on her desk. At least she would have something to distract her. At the top of the pile was a note from the Ambassador welcoming her back and telling her to take it easy.

She sat down in her chair and let out a sigh as she examined the stack of files she had been left to deal with. She grabbed a pen and the top file and began getting to work trying to focus only on the paper rather than the nightmarish visions at the back of her mind crawling closer and deeper into her.

It can’t have been any more than ten minutes before she got a sharp pain in her stomach causing her to stop and sit back in her chair. She was overcome by sudden frustration at the fact that she couldn’t even do her work.

“What are you doing back?” Came a voice form the door way. She looked up and saw Javi standing there.

“Working” she mumbled picking up her pen again.

“Clearly you’re in a fit state to be working” he said.

“I cleared it with Crosby”

“And he told you to take another few weeks off” Javi stepped into her office and closed the door before taking the chair opposite her and crossing one leg over the other “like I did. Why didn’t you listen?”

“You can’t say that” she said with a slight smile “you didn’t listen to me. You remember when we were still in training and you literally shattered your leg? I told you to rest but you came back way too soon”

“That was different (Y/N)” he told her “that was my own fault”

“And so was this” she told him “I’m the one who jumped in front of the bullet after all...”

There was a heavy silence over the two of them as she just stared at the piece of paper on her desk. There were so many thing Javier wanted to say to her. So many things he could’ve said to break the silence but he was scare the open his mouth. Scared that everything he wanted to say would just tumble out of his mouth in a mess that she couldn’t understand and he’d embarrass himself in front of her. But it was selfish of him to be thinking about his own stupid problems when the woman he loved took a bullet for him. But there was one question that was at the forefront of his mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her as she dropped her pen again and her bottom lip trembled. She brought her hand to her forehead and turned her head from him slightly.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath before she started to cry quietly. She didn’t want him to see but there was nothing that could stop him considering he was sat right in front of her. Javier stood from his chair and pulled it round to her so he was sat beside her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing them in a loving manner.

“I’m sorry Javi” she sobbed into her hands “I’m so sorry”

“Hey,” he said softly as he reached out to grab her hands to pulled them from her face making her look at him. His heart sank when he saw her bloodshot, watery eyes. A similar broken look in her as to when it happened. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for” he said rubbing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“I was an idiot...” she sniffed.

“Yeah, you were” he agreed with a nod making her laugh slightly. “But I would’ve done the same for you” he told her quietly.

“Javi..”

“I’m serious (Y/N). Had it been the other way round, I would’ve taken a bullet for you”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that for me”

“And I didn’t want you to do it for me” he said “and...I’ve never been more scared in my life” he paused for a moment. His grip on her hands tightening as he swallowed thickly trying not to cry himself. “The thought of loosing you...I couldn’t do this without you (Y/N). I couldn’t live in a world without you. You mean more to me than you will ever know...”

He saw tears fall to her hands and heard her drew in shaky breaths. He moved further to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She gripped his suit jacket and sobbed into his shirt. “I’m so sorry Javier. I don’t want to live without you”

“You won’t (Y/N). I’m going to help you get through this. You will get through this” he told her placing a soft kiss to her hair “I’m not going to leave you. Not this time”

04/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #angst #fluff #fanfic

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majwrites · 4 years

Text

Chris

Chris LaSalle x platonic Reader

Spoiler Warning: major spoilers for season 6 of NCIS New Orleans

Warnings: grieving, mentions of violence, being drunk, a break up, not eating, sugar rush, nightmares, crying, reader not getting out of bed for several days

Summary: Reader doesn't know how to deal with the death of their father figure LaSalle, this is basically pure angst. Flashbacks are cursive.

"Chris, why am I in an interrogation room?", you were starting to panic. "Don't worry, (Y/N). I just want to talk and here no one is going to interrupt us". You expected a lecture on respect and behavior or something along those lines. Pride had already majorly chewed you out and you knew you shouldn't have lost your temper like this but here you were. "I promise, I'm not mad about what happened at the academy. I'm just worried about you and I don't want them to kick you out", LaSalle always knew how to approach you. He had learned from years of dealing with his brother that he shouldn't upset people in already difficult situations any further. You stayed silent. It was hard to put the things that had happened into words. "Alright, we'll try something different. Did someone at the academy treat you in an unfair way?" You nodded your head. "Did they say something rude?" Another nod. "(Y/N), you'll have to be completely honest with me now, even if it's uncomfortable. Did they physically attack you?" You looked past Chris at the wall and then the words just started spilling out of your mouth: "They beat me up every day and I tried to ignore them and look like I don't care and I thought they'd stop...and I'm just good at dodging punches so I protected my face to not get any visible bruises...but there are three of them and I'm alone and I didn't know who to talk to, and I tried to tell Pride about it but he was pissed at me because he had already gotten the complaint about my absence and it's impossible to properly talk to him when he's mad so I just hid at that gas station til you dragged me back here". You were out of breath and on the verge of completely breaking down. Lasalle grew increasingly angry at the people who did this to you. He tried to contain himself to speak to you in a softer tone: "None of this is your fault, kid. I'm taking care of this, we'll get these guys expelled and I'll make sure you can go back to the academy and finish your training". You calmed down a little bit and tried to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks. You looked at LaSalle: "Chris?" "Yeah?" "Thank you". He walked around the interrogation table and held out his hand for you: "Come on, I'll give you a ride home. You need a break".

You hadn't left your apartment in three days, out of all members of the team you'd been the only one to take your special vacation. You didn't bother to get out of bed and you couldn't care less about the state you were in. You weren't sure if you had really processed the news yet. The days went by in a haze.

"Hey, kid! Wait a minute!", LaSalle came running after you. You stopped in your tracks. "What is it?" "I have something for you", he was clearly holding something behind his back. "Show me", you demanded. "Close your eyes", he looked at you mischievously. "Chris, I'm not a child", but you did as you were told anyway. "Now hold out your hands for me", you did and LaSalle dropped something into your hands. "You can open your eyes now". You opened your eyes and looked at the thing: "Oh my God is this…", you couldn't even finish your sentence. "It's your very own NCIS badge. From now on you're NCIS agent (Y/N) (L/N)". You looked at the badge in your hands for a moment and then clipped it onto your belt. LaSalle looked at you like a proud father.

You woke up in cold sweat from a dream that you couldn't quite place in the timeline yet. The moment you realised that you were indeed awake on this day in this time and he wouldn't be there at the office and he never would be anywhere again you broke down again. There were only so many tears someone could cry and you definitely weren't done crying yet so you just curled up into a ball to cry some more.

"What is it, King?", Chris was on the phone with Pride. "It's about (Y/N), they're drunk and I need you to come here and get them home", Pride sounded concerned. "Did something happen to them?", Chris started to worry. "They won't talk to me and they were already drunk when they got here. Something is clearly wrong". "Alright, please keep an eye on them. I'm on my way", with that LaSalle hung up and started making his way to the bar. When he arrived he saw you sitting there slowly drinking a cup of water which Pride had given you earlier. LaSalle approached you: "Hey, kid. Would you like to go home?" You stared at him in confusion before nodding slowly. You stood up and held onto his sleeve for support. LaSalle lead you to his car and helped you sit down in the passenger seat. He even secured your seat belt. He had never seen you this drunk before. Chris waited a minute before he started driving: "Do you want to tell me what happened?". You said nothing for a while, then tears started welling up in your eyes: "Jo broke up with me". You sounded distressed. "Oh, (Y/N). I'm so sorry", Chris leaned over the console and pulled you into a hug. You continued talking: "They said that I'm too damaged to be in a relationship...they said I'm broken and that they're not willing to help me". You started sobbing louder this time. Chris still held you. You continued: "They said there's probably no one in this world who could ever fix me". "None of this is true", Chris tried to soothe, "You're not broken. You just went through some rough times and we're all here to help you through them". You both sat in his car like that for a while before starting to drive.

You didn't know what to do except for keeping on to rot away in your room. The only thing that usually came to your mind in a situation like this was calling LaSalle, but in a fit of anger yesterday when it settled in that you could never call him again you had thrown your phone at the wall. It was still intact thanks to the outdoor phone case and screen protector but you were unwilling to retrieve it from the ground. You wouldn't know who to call for help anyways.

This case was a rather difficult one but you were on the verge of solving it. All it had taken were a few sleepless nights, a few more cups of caffeinated drinks and a sugar rush. But profiling was one of your specialities and this guy had a lot to be profiled about him. You presented your profile to your team, they compared it to their evidence, they found the guy because Patton is the best at locating people and so the bad guy went to prison and all of you could finally go home and sleep. If it wouldn't be for your sugar rush. Everyone looked very tired, but you were still bouncing around the office because you somehow needed to get rid of your energy. "Don't you want to go home, (Y/N)?", it was LaSalle who was the last one about to leave. "I'd love to go home but I kind of had an unhealthy amount of fruit loops and Caf-Pow", you were still pacing around in the office. "Do you want me to walk you home? Maybe that'll get the sugar out of your system", and that's how you ended up on a 30 minute walk through New Orleans to your apartment with LaSalle who later took a taxi back home.

"Dwayne, we can't just sit around and do nothing about this", Loretta knew she couldn't get upset with Pride now. He was suffering too, but that didn't excuse letting one of his agents down like this. "What do you want me to do? They've taken personal days off. I tried calling them and they didn't answer so they're probably not willing to talk", he really didn't deal with the situation that well. "Maybe it's for the better if you keep everything in order here. I will go to their apartment and check up on them", and Loretta went on her way.

You were hiding under your blanket feeling mostly numb now when suddenly there was a knock on your door. You couldn't find your will to get up, so you waited. The person would eventually go away and figure that you weren't home. To your surprise that didn't happen. Someone started unlocking your door which further confused you because only one person had a spare key to your apartment. And his death was the very reason you ended up like this.

"(Y/N), are you here? It's Loretta!", she looked around your living room to see that everything was a big mess. You didn't find your will to answer. "I'm coming inside now, I'll find you if you're somewhere in here!", Loretta knew better than to startle you. When she reached your bedroom she saw you on your bed and came closer. "Hey, how are you holding up", she knew that you were barely holding up at all but she needed to get you to talk. "I don't know", you stared blankly at her. At least you were answering. "Do you want me to let in some fresh air? It smells like your window hasn't been opened for days". You nodded. Loretta opened a window. Then she sat down next to you on your bed. "We've been worried about you. Don't you want to get out of bed and take a shower? I'll try and find something to eat for you", Loretta knew exactly what to do in situations like this, she had been working with a bunch of very stubborn and very sad people for a long time now. "I don't want to shower", you answered flatly. "That's okay, would you like to change into other clothes?", Loretta had noticed that you haven't even done that after coming back home days ago, and besides that she had also smelled it. You nodded. You got up and leaned against your wall. Loretta started picking out a fresh set of clothes, a washcloth and a towel from your wardrobe. Maybe that would get you to at least wash your face. She placed everything on the shelf in your bathroom and made her way to the kitchen.

A few minutes later you walked into the kitchen in fresh, comfortable clothes and a bit cleaner than before. You sat down at the table and Loretta handed over a cup of tea. You took a sip. You didn't know what to say. You looked down at the table. "You need to talk about this, (Y/N). The situation is difficult for all of us, but we can help each other with getting through it", Loretta didn't want to pressure you to talk, but she had to get at least some information in order to help you. You sat in silence for a longer while. You suddenly started talking: "I just don't know what to do without him, nothing makes sense anymore". Once again tears started flowing and by now you didn't care anymore. Loretta was out of good advice so she gently pulled you into a hug. You kept rambling on: "He was the one getting me off the street and the one who got me into the academy and inspired me to join NCIS. Chris helped me through all the trouble I got myself into. Loretta, I've got no one else. There used to be no one until Chris appeared and no it's going to be just like that again...and it's all just so unfair, he didn't deserve all the pain and he must've been so scared and now he's dead and there's nothing we could've done to prevent it". Loretta didn't know what to say so she just held you closer. You tried to calm down.

It hadn't sunken in yet that from now on you' d have a purpose and a goal. Chris had managed to get you a place at the Police Academy by adding a reference to your application. You'd try your best to make LaSalle proud and become a good cop. If someone would've told you a few months ago that you were going to get a higher education or a stable job offer you would've probably laughed, but here you were now with an actual future ahead of you. LaSalle reentered the kitchen with two cups of orange juice and handed one of them to you. You looked at him for a second before saying: "Don't worry Chris, I'll try my best to make you proud". He just smiled and said: "I know you will, kid".

About an hour, two cups of tea and a bowl of dry fruit loops later you were in a state of mind that Loretta felt it would be safe to leave you alone in. You had decided to sit this case out and you'd come back once you felt capable of doing so. Loretta stayed a while longer before she had to leave and she promised you to call later. When she made her way out of your door she looked back at you: "Christopher is proud of you, (Y/N). And I know you will continue making him proud in the future".

And she was right, you had a bright future ahead of you and you'd do anything to make it a future that Chris LaSalle would be happy about.

#ncis new orleans #ncis #chris lasalle #chris lasalle x reader #chris lasalle x reader platonic #ncis new orleans imagine #gender neutral reader #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #angst #christopher lasalle

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getdownkyh · 4 years

Text

Extra Credit (m) | Young K | smut, Professor!Kang

01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . 05 . 06 . 07

Risks.

Lunch break meant the lecturer’s rooms were off limits, with exceptions for booked appointments, which you had. A different kind of appointment, but it granted you access to his room, with the guaranteed privacy from other curious students.

“I don’t like what you said about me in class.” There was no filter to what you said to him, not surprising since there really was no filter between the both of you.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“When you called out the boys, I don’t like that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “They were making inappropriate jokes about you in class.”

“Yeah, I know. And I can deal with it on my own. I don’t need you to defend me. Don’t take it personally but what we have doesn’t go beyond sex.”

Younghyun took a deep breath, grimacing inwardly at your words. He didn’t know why it hurt but somehow it did.

“First of all, I called them out because it’s my responsibility to ensure a safe learning space. It meant nothing more than that.”

Or does it?

Your strong gaze on his shaking pupils was a stark contrast. His words sounded more of an effort to convince himself rather than you, but you knew you made your point clear and by the time he stood up and took your face in his hand, thumb tracing your jaw, you were no longer interested in dragging the argument longer.

Younghyun’s tongue was deep inside your mouth, his fingers skillfully unbuttoning your blouse, before his hands were attached to your boobs, squeezing to coax gasps out of you, ensuring him uninterrupted access to explore your mouth. Arms slung around his neck, senses flooded with him, all you could hear was the sudden increasing thumping of your own heart.

The thumps got louder, closer in distance, and you opened your eyes, realizing the thumping no longer matched your heartbeat but rather resembled the sound of footsteps.

You hurriedly pushed Younghyun’s chest, separating both of you, his forehead frowning with confusion, looking at you.

“I think someone’s coming.”

It happened in a split second. The door lever moved, Younghyun pushing you down, kicking your blouse that was right next to his feet, you scrambling onto your knees to hide underneath his table. The door slung open, revealing a distressed Sungjin.

“Jesus, can’t you knock ?” Younghyun exclaimed, heart pounding at the prospect of getting caught.

“Why, were you doing something inappropriate?” Sungjin sniggered, eyes scanning the room.

Younghyun swallowed, throat feeling dry. From where Sungjin was staring, there was no way he could see you, his table fully blocking you, but if he were to walk closer, say towards and around the table, then that would be the end of your little secret.

Sungjin fixed his gaze on the younger male’s face, “Oh, I see.. Man you never change do you, your hair’s a mess.”

You held your breath.

Younghyun hurriedly ran his fingers through his hair, fixing whatever he could. Does he know?

“Anyway if you wanna sleep, at least do it during the break. Your bedhair’s disgusting. And I think you got something on your lips too.”

Oh.

Younghyun wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting down onto his chair, legs spread comfortably. “What do you want?”

“Can you speedrun me with the latest protocols for the marking system? Like God, I love giving lectures but these paperworks are gonna be the death of me.”

Younghyun pushed his chair forward, bringing his body closer to the desk as he opened some files on his computer. You heard him starting to brief Sungjin, his demeanour changing in a split second, his serious, intelligent aura, the very thing that got you on your knees for him, quite literally. You had minimal idea of what they were talking about but you found yourself shifting uncomfortably hearing him speak, worlds laced with confidence.

There was something about smart men that was just so attractive, just like Professor Kang in his element.

His thighs were so close to your face, thick, filling up his slacks, and you decided fuck it, this was worth the risk. You placed your hands on his knees, before moving them forward, feeling his thighs in your hand. Younghyun tensed, his thighs flexing beneath your hold.

His left hand gripped his armrest, faking a cough, before clearing his throat and continuing his explanation. Your left hand rested atop his right thigh, massaging him occasionally, while your other hand travelled much more upwards, towards a dangerous territory.

Your ran your fingers, minimal pressure applied, right across his bulge, feeling his thigh tensing again in your other hand. Up and down, your palm moved, pressure increased slightly, but not enough to make an audible sound. You felt him getting harder against your hand as you continued palming him, feeling proud of your effect on him, also curious to see how he was going to compose himself. Moving slightly closer towards him, you placed your cheek on his thigh, looking up to him, your hand still rubbing over his hardening bulge.

He flitted his gaze towards you for a second, and then faked a yawn, as Sungjin thanked him, about to leave. “Do me a favor and lock the door as you leave?” He asked, voice hoarse, rotating his neck left and right.

“Sure. Goodnight~”

The lock clicked and he pushed his chair backwards just slightly, you tumbling forward, your hands gripping onto his legs. Younghyun leaned back into his seat, looking down at you, bent on the floor between his legs. He hunched forward, thumb drawing circles on your cheek. You looked up at him, giggling as you shifted closer between his legs, fingers unbuckling his belt, “That was close.”

Your soft giggles got his heart skipping a beat, enhanced by the way you were looking up at him, ironically, almost innocently. Though he didn’t have to dwell on the thought longer, brushing it off as his aroused state getting to him.

You smiled at him proudly, hearing him sigh when his erection was freed from the tight space.

You lazily stroked him, maintaining eye contact, “What do you want me to do, Professor?”

He chuckled, running his thumb across your bottom lip, “You have such beautiful lips, I wonder how they would look like wrapped around me.”

Straightening up, you shifted closer to his center. You tilted your head, bringing your lips closer to his member, one hand wrapped around the base, another on his thigh to hold your position. You stuck your tongue out, licking from the base to the tip. Reaching the head, you circled your tongue around it, before pressing a short kiss and giving it kitten licks.

He looked at you, impressed, groans suppressed as his knuckles started turning white from how hard he was gripping his armrest. You took the tip into your mouth, flicking your eyes upwards to look at him, before you moved your head down, inch by inch, taking more of him, speed so slow you can feel the throb of his vein on your tongue.

He didn’t know if it was the feeling of the warmth, the wetness the tightness encasing his member, or if it was the mere sight of you looking up to him obediently while taking all of him, but everything felt so, so good Younghyun was on the verge of falling apart.

He grunted, and you bobbed your head gradually faster, your hands on his thighs for support. The way he was subconsciously bucking his hips up everytime you lowered your head caused the tip of his dick to caress your throat sinfully. He threw his head back when you moaned around him, tonguing his cheek, pupils dilating from pleasure. He felt like he was on drugs, though that analogy wasn’t that far off given how addicted he was to you at tjat point.

Inhaling, he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off of him, making you stand up, pulling you towards him, kissing you fully on the mouth. “God, you’re fucking amazing.”

He spun you around, holding you by the hips, tugging you to sit on his lap. A moan gasped out from your mouth, feeling him poking your clothed entrance, making you instinctively grind on him. He hissed into your ear, hand grasping your hair, “No more teasing, we don’t have much time.”

You lifted your hips, hovering over him with your ass pushed towards him, and he couldn’t help but to run his hands over the round flesh. Skirt bunched up, you started tugging your panties down. The piece of clothing was barely off, around your mid-thighs, locking your legs together, and Younghyun was already tugging your hips downwards, burying himself in you. He could barely control himself when he saw your exposed, slick hole and all he wanted to do was feel them around him.

The muscles on your neck strained as you threw your head back, panting against his neck, clenching and unclenching to reduce the overwhelming feeling in your lower region. You pressed your back deeper into his strong torso, as you worked together to find a rhythm, his chair creaking slightly every time you bounced on top of him, the poor piece of furniture barely sustaining the sheer force of the both of you fucking each other.

He kissed your forehead, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he unclasped your bra, throwing it to the floor, before holding your jaw and tilting your face to look at him. He found himself no longer just looking forward to the pleasure you shared, but also how pretty you looked every time he was inside you.

Grabbing your breasts in his hands, massaging them, making you squirm in his grasp, he groaned, feeling the contour of your body beneath his fingertips. Swallowing, you placed your hands on the armrest, supporting yourself as you started lifting your hips up again, and sinking back down, soft whines leaving your mouth, relishing in the way his thick member was splitting you open.

He left an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder, "Fuck, you're tight," before leaning back, taking pleasure in the way your walls hugged him. His eyes were trained on your back, the way your hair swayed with every bounce, your skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, the blurry sight of his dick slipping in and out of you, he wanted to keep the moment imprinted inside his head forever.

The air inside the room was intoxicating, filled with the scent of sex, soft moans and grunts. Your pace started faltering, focus decreasing and exhaustion creeping up onto you. One hand on your clit, you whined, “Need you to take over. I can’t feel my legs.”

He yanked your hand away, “You don’t have to do that, I will do it for you.” He stood up, hand flat on your spine, pressing to bend you over his desk. Your cheek met the cold surface, eyes fluttering close as he grabbed your thigh, pushing your underwear all the way down before hiking your right knee up on the desk, your position making you on full display for him. One hand on your hip, another next to your face, Younghyun pistoned his hips, filling you to the hilt.

They said practice makes perfect, and you thought as time passed you’d be able to keep your noises down. But every time Younghyun fucked you, it was like the first time all over again, especially with how it seemed like he always got more and more into it, with the way he slammed harder and deeper into you, and his hands squeezing your flesh violently, always leaving marks afterwards, the intensity threatening you to scream every time, so you found yourself bringing your fist to your own mouth, suppressing your moans from giving the both of you away.

You lost track of the time but you were certain you came in an embarrassingly short time. The thought of him being in charge and taking control sending you over the edge quicker than you thought it would. He stretched you open so deliciously, pounding your sensitive spot; it was easy to reel into nothingness when you didn’t have to work for it.

You blacked out for a moment, brought back to reality by the sound of him praising you, feeling hot streams shooting inside you, your walls convulsing uncontrollably at the sensation.

When he pulled you back up and gave you a kiss, you were slightly taken aback. His lips pushed against yours slower, lingering and nibbling delicately, soothing. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but it was void of lust, and your head spun at how soft the kiss was.

He rarely ever kissed you like this after sex, minus the one time he kissed you gently, only for the kiss to turn fiery in under a minute and then you were going at it again and again, until both of you were sated. You didn’t have the energy to overthink or argue so you just nodded, as he apologized if what he said in class made you feel uncomfortable, offering to drive you back home, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back.

#youngk #young k #youngk smut #young k smut #day6 smut #young k au #youngk au #fic:extracredit

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (55) || atz

You drop to the deck, barely remembering to draw your blade in the panic induced haze clouding your mind. Your knees nearly buckle under the strain and you stumble forward, moving with only instinct to guide you through the chaos.

Luckily for you, you were on the mizzenmast before the pandemonium erupted, so you’re relatively close to the sickbay. Your feet take control of their own movements and yank you after them to the wooden door, your fingers scrabble around the handle and you throw the door wide open, the resultant crash barely registering in your ears.

Inexplicable relief floods you when you see your master there, hurriedly sliding a set of razor sharp blades into his belt. He whirls around at the noise, fingers on the verge of drawing a knife from his side, but when he sees that it’s just you, his face sags in relief and he crosses the room in three quick strides to wrap you in his arms.

For a moment, everything slows down around you, swirling into background noise in the back of your mind like you’re in the eye of a hurricane. There are no words exchanged between the two of you, you merely choke back a cry and bury your nose in your master’s shoulder – the scent of wildflowers and honey lingering on his skin – his arms around you firm and unyielding, like the mountain he was named after.

But all too soon your master pulls away and the gravity of the situation you’re in slams back into you like a returning wave, surging up in your chest. You stamp it down the panic down and wordlessly accept the pistol your master hands you, fingers gripping the firearm so tightly your knuckles feel like they’re about to pop.

“Let’s go.”

You don’t have time to think about the hopelessness of the situation at hand before your master yanks you out of the door and onto the deck. All about you, chaos reigns, the remaining crew doing their best to hoist the sails and make way before the Black Crow comes for them.

San pulls you after him, up the stairs and onto the quarterdeck. There your captain stands, watching over Yeosang with his cutlass drawn as the navigator works quickly to set up a long tube full of what you know to be black powder. It’s the second, major distress beacon that’s part of the relay system your captain developed long ago for situations such as these, to raise the alarm to every crew member that catches sight of it to report back to the ship immediately, regardless of circumstance.

And this is certainly not a circumstance you wish the crew was returning home to.

There’s shouting beneath you as the crew on the main deck works with every bit of strength they have to raise the sails, but it’s hopelessly slow – too slow, there’s no chance that you’ll be able to flee from the Black Crow. A sinking feeling grips you tight in the belly even as you realise this, because how could you possibly sail off when the rest of the crew is still ashore? What would they do when they return, drawn by the light of the danger beacon, only to run smack into the arms of the Royal Navy officers?

You swallow at the thought of your friends hanging from the noose… of Wooyoung dangling from the rope, limp and unmoving, never to greet you with those iridescent bright green eyes again–

No.

You can never allow that to happen.

By the time you look up again, steeling yourself for the unavoidable battle ahead, the dark silhouette of the Black Crow is mere feet away from you, you can see the deck of the ship bristling with vindictive officers, and you see one of them raising a musket to point right at Yeosang…

You whip around to scream a warning at him, anything, but Yeosang’s head is down as he draws his own musket from his belt, and you know, deep inside, that you’re going to be too late...

Memories flash through your mind like a lightning strike. The warmth of Yeosang’s arms around you as he pulls you protectively into his embrace, his pained gasps of your name as hot blood poured from his back, the blankness in his gaze as his eyes glossed over and you thought, in that agonising moment, that you were going to lose him...

Fiery hot panic tears through you, but something quieter, something more grim, something more terrifying than fear itself sweeps through you, overwhelming the terror in you. It's like a bubbling well inside your chest, spilling just a few drops of freshwater onto the ground that has been bone dry for so, so long.

But it’s enough.

Enough for what? You barely have time to question your thoughts with silent curiosity, but before you can receive anything close to an answer, everything erupts into chaos before your very eyes.

One second you’re looking at Yeosang and the next, you feel a painful, sudden yank in your gut, as if there’s a rope attached to your navel and someone is tugging on it with all their might. Right as you double over in pain, a cry hanging off your lips, a massive wave surges upwards, seemingly rising out of the black sea heaving tumultuously beneath the deck and looming over both ships like a sea monster emerging from the depths.

You barely have time to scream before it crashes over the ship.

The shriek is ripped from your lungs as you flail about desperately in all the chaos, trying to find something to hang onto to prevent yourself from being overboard. All around you, you hear an immeasurable amount of water roaring in your ears, the primal howl of the ocean screaming like an untamed beast on the loose. The cacophony of dissonant notes and white noise blend together and scramble the inside of your mind, you feel like your skull’s about to split clean in half and you near collapse to your knees, hands buried in your hair as you try to search for some sort of anchor that can just make all the pain end–

Just as abruptly as it had come, the sea sweeps over the deck and runs back into the ocean before you can even fully register its presence. You’re left gasping, mind still in shambles, but when you whirl around, you’re shocked to see that all of the crew is still on board, not one of them have been swept into the unforgiving waves. In fact, the ship would look nearly untouched if not for the water steadily dripping from the masts and the crew sprawled on the deck, completely soaked and groaning from their near death experience but you...

You’re dry.

“Chin Hae! Chin Hae, are you okay?” Warm arms suddenly pull you to them and you look up blankly, uncomprehending, only to see the face of your master there, worry etched into the lines of his face as water drips from his hair. Then he pauses, flinches for a second, raising a hand to the corner of your mouth slowly, his eyes filling with growing panic. “You… you’re bleeding…”

The words snap you out of your daze and you clap one hand to your mouth as fast as you can in a panic, the other slapping your master’s hand away on instinct. To your horror, you feel warm, wet blood bubbling from between your lips, the taste of iron dominant in your mouth... His outstretched hand merely falls to his side, limp, eyes so wide with terror that in spite of the circumstances you are in, fear consumes you whole like a lion. How are you supposed to explain things to him now?

“Chin Hae, what happened to–”

“They’re boarding us!”

You grab that distraction with both hands and run for the stairs, looking down at where the main deck is. Not a split second later, you’re throwing yourself to the side with all the force you can muster, crashing to the ground painfully as something whistles by your ear, frighteningly close. Your heart jams to a halt in your chest as you feel every drop of blood drain from your face, leaving you feeling cold and trembling with fear.

Something thuds into the wood behind you, sinking into the railing and quivering there.

A crossbow bolt.

“I can’t believe I missed, though Captain did say to bring you in alive.” Gunho sighs good-naturedly with a smile on his face and an unloaded crossbow in his hands, they work to load another bolt into the weapon with such deft efficiency that you can’t help but be mesmerized by it. A human weapon is all you can think of, the locking mechanism clicks into place and Yunho’s younger brother runs his fingers through his hair, the water droplets landing on his cheeks. He looks so much like Yunho and nothing like Yunho, for there’s no way your crewmate’s warm brown eyes could ever look so chilling, so terrifying, like those of a cold blooded murderer… “But I guess one little bolt through that pretty leg of yours will make my job a lot easier, hmm?”

You barely have time to scream before he raises the crossbow and fires.

In the next second, someone crashes into you, knocking you to side and rolling over so that you’re pinned protectively beneath them, back pressed against the wet planks of the forecastle deck. You gasp, eyes flying open to look at the face of your saviour. To your shock, it’s your captain himself, though before you can even think about thanking him for saving your life, he’s already yanked you to your feet and shoved you behind him, cutlass drawn and pointed straight at Gunho.

Something warm trickles down your skin although you feel no pain, replaced by an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, cracking feeling...

To your horror, the young Royal Navy officer is standing between you and the stairs, San and Yeosang already on the edge, staring back at the two of you desperately as they’re torn between staying with you or fulfilling their duty on the ship. From the main deck you hear the clash of battle and the screaming of the wounded fills the air, they ring in your ears piercingly.

“Stay behind me, Chin Hae! San, Yeosang, get to the wounded!” Hongjoong shouts sharply over the din and you see the two crewmates stiffen at their captain’s orders, clearly reluctant on leaving you with the most dangerous man on the Black Crow after Captain Kang. But they don’t have a choice but to trust their captain’s decision, San turning back to meet your eyes with a fierce fury burning in them.

We’re talking about this once this is over.

Before you can respond in the least, he turns and leaves the quarterdeck, pulling the navigator after him.

Gunho shakes his head as he watches the two of them vanish into the pandemonium erupting on the main deck, the Black Crow looming over the Treasure at the port side, casting an eerie shadow over the main deck and blocking out the faint light of the half moon. With shaking fingers you grip the hilt of your own blade and unsheathe it, the cruel steel barely visible in the glow of the flickering torches. It’s never taken the life of another before and you hope it never has to, but to defend yourself and your captain, you’ll do anything it takes.

“Where’s my brother?” Gunho glances around casually, as if expecting the brother he’d stabbed to be up and walking about in less than a week. Your captain keeps his expression neutral even though you can feel his rage boiling beneath his skin, near seething – like a wild animal ready to pounce.

“Not anywhere you need to be concerned with.” Hongjoong snaps, his knuckles white around the hilt of his cutlass. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispers, so softly that only you can hear it, “When I give you the signal, run straight for the infirmary and barricade yourself inside. Take care of Yunho, okay?”

Before you can ask “what signal” in horror, your captain shoves you to the side and lunges forward, driving his cutlass forward in a direct strike for Gunho’s heart. You barely manage to catch your balance and glance back to see what on earth is happening, but what you see terrifies you too much for you to take another step towards the stairs.

Your captain is pinned beneath Gunho, the two wrestling for dominance as the younger boy slams his heavier broadsword down, pushing against your captain’s defensive guard. Your captain’s teeth are gritted as he wraps his legs around Gunho and tries to yank him off, his arms otherwise preoccupied with keeping Gunho from slicing his head clean off his body. You glance back desperately towards the stairs, the infirmary is right below, you could get there and barricade yourself inside with the iron bar, but your captain…

There’s a grunt of pain as the edge of Gunho’s sword bites into your captain’s palms, thin rivulets of blood sliding down his wrists and into his sleeves…

Your feet are moving before you make up your mind and you’re running back in the direction you’d come from, no matter how foolish you know you are, slicing down with your cutlass at Gunho’s exposed back.

You’re barely a distraction, but it’s enough. Yunho’s younger brother spins around to dodge the strike and shoves you to the ground instead, releasing your captain from his grasp. You go crashing across the deck and pain shoots up your arms and legs, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs and you hear something terrifyingly loud snap as your weak ankle from that gunshot in Nassau slams into the barricade.

Fireworks burst behind your eyes, little black spots dotting your vision and you can’t help the scream that forces its way out of your mouth, every nerve ending in your leg on fire as you instinctively curl up into a ball. But before you can tide out the waves of agony running through your body, a heavy boot grinds down onto your wrist and you cry out as your bones creak under the strain, pain lancing up your arm. You look up through tears of absolute agony only to see Gunho standing there, an amused smile on his face as he shakes his head at you playfully.

“As much as I admire your grit, dear, I really need to get my job done.” He pats you on the head lightly but applies more force on your wrist to the point you’re sure it’s about to snap, you thrash and pull through the pain of it all, struggling to get away from him before it’s too late. For all your efforts and desperation, in the end, it’s like trying to move a mountain – practically impossible.

Gunho draws a long, jagged knife from his boot, grinning down at you with a sadistic smile.

“This might hurt a little.” He says, light hearted and cheerful.

Before you can scream, he plunges the knife through your hand.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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hansensgirl · 4 years

Text

salvatore | iv

series summary — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

chapter warnings — dark!bucky, dark themes, stalking, voyeurism, cameras, stealing, slight angst, smut, female masturbation, perving, male masturbation, violence, mentions of cheating, fluff, feelings, noncon/dubcon, 18+

pairings — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers

word count — 2,961

a/n — finally! finally, i posted! please leave some feedback if you’d like! happy reading, and if you do not like any of the things in the warnings, do not read this!! also thank you to @mariessecretfantasies for beta-ing, ily! check her wonderful stories out please, you won’t regret it!

“Oh, bunny.” She cooed, tracing the scars that were scattered about Bucky’s body. Bucky whimpered and opened his eyes. The redhead smiled down at him, wearing a simple sundress and heart sunglasses. She twirled her tongue around the cherry flavoured lollipop as if she was sucking his cock. The old Bucky would’ve had a boner in just a few seconds, but the sight of Natasha had startled him deeply. “We should go to the Valley this weekend, Bunny.” She pulled the sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, so you can visit Steve huh?” He spoke, but they weren’t the words that left his mouth. “Of course, Nattie.” His fingers ran through her red locks on their own accord. He tried to pull them away, but instead he pulled her closer. She set the lollipop on the dashboard of the Buick. She crawled into his lap and began to unbuckle his belt, desperately craving his cock. She suddenly left his belt and grabbed the knife that was in his thigh holster, bringing it up to his throat. “You know Nattie, I used to think the world of you.” He growled through gritted teeth. She pressed the knife closer to his throat, her hands shaking slightly. “Yet now, you barely even cross my mind.”

Bucky shot up suddenly, Natasha’s name leaving his name in just a whisper. One that when he himself couldn’t hear. He was drenched in sweat, his naked form all sticky. “Fuck.” He cursed, pulling off the thin grey sheet that barely covered him. The gruesome dreams replayed in his dark mind, sending chills down his spine. It was the first dream he had about Natasha in a while, and he didn’t know what triggered it. He pulled on his boxers and sat on the bed idly, wondering what he should do. There was no way he would go back to sleep, he didn’t want to face Natasha again. His eyes fell onto the laptop on his bedside table and his lips worried a smirk. It was devilish, almost as if Satan cursed himself upon Bucky. He peered out of the window and managed to see through the pitch black darkness that filled your room. You had a pillow between your legs and your sheets were a mess.

You clearly were knocked out, probably still hazy from that hangover. He sat near the window and opened the laptop to enter his password. He carefully typed your name and added his favourite number at the end before pressing the arrow button. It loaded quickly, given that he had harassed the guy down at IT for speedy wifi and advanced technology. He tapped into the cameras that he installed in your house one afternoon whilst you went for a quick run. He rewinded the tape to when you were in the shower, washing your hair. The water had to be cold as he inspected your body language and facial expressions. Seeing the water spill over your body had his cock throbbing between his thick thighs. He watched you slip a hand between your thighs, rubbing the pearl of nerves that had your knees buckling and your eyes rolling back into your skull. No wonder you were knocked out. Your mouth fell open to let out a silent scream and your ministrations on your clit sped up. Bucky’s large cock became fully erected, leaking with pre-cum. He grasped the base and swiped the tip with his thumb, before beginning to stroke himself.

“Fuck.” You both gasped, throwing your heads back.

He swore under his breath and watched you edge yourself. He wondered how many times he could edge you before you couldn’t take it anymore, before you would let those tears fall just for him. He would love to see you break under him, though he knew you were already slightly cracked beneath the lines. You palmed your breasts eagerly before spying the shower head with a smirk. “Such a naughty, dirty girl.” He degraded, letting a moan slip past his plump lips. It was almost as if you heard him, only saying one word. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You came undone on your frail, delicate fingers that could barely reach your g-spot. Your creamy cum coated your hand, and you pulled your fingers away from your honey pot. You had the urge to suck your arousal off of your fingers, and Bucky could tell. You hesitatingly stuck them in your mouth and you sucked them clean, which pushed Bucky off the edge of the cliff. His streaks of cum painted themselves on his abdomen, wishing you were there to catch it all in your mouth. He sighed as his cock became flaccid, and you washed your sins away with steaming hot water.

He switched cameras and fast-forwarded to when you dried yourself off with the fluffy towel. You bent down to wipe your legs, giving him a view of your pussy. He paused the camera and admired you for a bit, his breathing becoming more laboured. Your freshly-shaven lips glistened with water droplets, but he wished it was his cum instead. He shut his eyes and muttered incoherent words under his breath. This isn’t wrong! I’m just making sure you’re safe, that’s all. He mindlessly watched your moisturize and get ready for bed, all while jamming out to your favourite song. He could watch you swing your hips for hours, watch you flip your hair until you felt dizzy. And he could, but it’s not as good as he wanted. He wanted to be there with you.

Bucky decided to try and get a few hours of shut-eye, knowing that he’d deeply regret it if he didn’t. He hadn’t noticed that your breathing never slowed. You laid in bed, with your eyes shut. You were teetering on the verge of falling asleep, but your thoughts kept you up.

You wondered how you had managed to fall in love with your neighbour. The neighbour that you had only known for so long. It couldn’t be love, because love is dumb, right? It’s just a crush that makes you feel all sick and happy, a crush that lasts forever. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get some rest for once. But sleep never came. Instead, your heavy eyes watched the sun rise until it nearly blinded you. You sighed and rolled out of bed. Your body was almost on auto-pilot. You went downstairs and made yourself a cup of coffee, along with a bagel. You somehow found yourself pulling on a sundress that was a little too revealing for your taste. You admired yourself in the mirror for a bit, wondering what Bucky would think of your outfit. Would he be disgusted? God no, he’s too much of a gentleman. You pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind as you were determined to have a good day. You stared at the book that sat on top of your night stand. Ever since Bucky had gifted it to you, you never opened it up.

You could either read the classic that he gifted, or spend the day looking for a nearby job that would pay well. You chose the former. You gathered all your notebooks and pens, hoping that maybe inspiration will strike you. You went to open your back door, just to find it unlocked. You furrowed your brows with confusion, trying to recall whether or not you locked it. “Probably didn’t.” You muttered under your breath. You shook your head with disappointment — something that your mom constantly would do to you. You shut the door behind you and sat on the sun chair. The sun was bright — maybe a little too bright for you. But it didn’t seem strong enough to harm your soft skin. You flipped to the first page and began to read, but you lost track a few times. You imagined yourself as Catherine, and Bucky as Heathcliff. The story was already wrong in so many ways, but to picture yourself as one of the characters was almost too much. You couldn’t help it though, you really couldn’t. You stopped at the second page and decided to retire the book for the day.

You played with your pen and chewed at your bottom lip, trying to think of a way to start your new story. “Hey, neighbour!” A deep voice called out. You turned your head just to see Bucky peering over the tall white fence. You silently waved at him and gave him a friendly smile. “Got any sugar for me to borrow?” He joked, making you giggle. You shook your head as you played along with him. He put on a frown that made you a little lovesick. It was chilling almost, as if he had practiced those puppy eyes. Your smile faltered slightly, but you kept it on anyways. A flash of darkness struck Bucky when he saw the slight dullness to your lips. “So, writing the next best novel?” He questioned, even though he already knew that you were just writing something for your Tumblr. “Not really, I just have the muse to write.” You meekly explained. He let out an understanding sound, nodding his head as your words sank in. Well, this is awkward… “Why do you write?” he asked, the question making you shoot your head up in a flash. “Pardon?” You scoffed incredulously. “I know you heard me, if you don’t want to talk about it then that’s fine, just curious. Sorry.” He looked down with guilt, making your heart break slightly. God dammit!

Bucky’s manipulative resolve nearly broke when he nearly smirked as he saw your face fall. He began to move away from the fence before you called out his name. “Bucky! Wait, I’m sorry!” You apologized, getting up from your seat. Bucky smiled and turned around to face you. He once again wore those puppy eyes that manage to manipulate you. You apologized profusely, your notebook and pen scattered on the freshly grown grass. “I’ll only accept your apology if you let me hang out with you, doll.” Doll, the nickname had you smiling sweetly. His stoic gaze burned into you as he admired your smile. So fucking gorgeous. “I’ll open the front door for you-” You started, turning away from Bucky. “Actually, I think I can hop over this fence.” He admitted, making your eyes bulge out. Before you could say another word, Bucky swung himself over the tall white fence. “Oh my god.” You whispered in shock, realizing he avoided stepping on your flowers. He smiled at you and began to look around your garden. He acted as if he hadn’t seen it already, as if he hadn’t broken into your home already.

Well, he didn’t break in. You just didn’t let him in nicely.

You noticed the gardening gloves that he donned. “You garden?” You asked with pure curiosity. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He answered. “Do you always garden? Or have you just started?” You wondered out loud as the heat of the sun grew. He took in your form as he wondered what lie he should choose. “Just started, any tips?” He peeled the gloves off as he spoke. The way he maintained eye contact was intimidating, almost scary. “Eh, not really… Mrs. Carter helped out actually!” You exclaimed, making the awkward tension even worse. Bucky nodded and stalked closer towards you, making you gulp thickly. Why were you so nervous? It’s not like he would hurt you, right? “Relax, I can hear your heart beatin’ fast.” He smiled down at you softly. You hadn’t realized how much bigger he was than you. He towered over you and even blocked the sun from blinding you. “Are you nervous, baby?” He nearly let out a coo when you nodded shyly. The way the tension between you too changed into something else was practically elusive. “I could go for some nice lemonade to be honest.” He smirked.

“L-lemonade?” You questioned. Your brows knitted together with confusion. What did he want from you? “That is what I said, isn’t it?” He looked up at the bright sky as if he was pondering to himself. “O-of course.” You walked away from him and nearly tripped over your feet. He had turned you into a nervous-wreck — you couldn’t even bear to look him in the eyes without shying away. With every few steps you took, you glanced back at Bucky, who was staring right at you. You felt his cold eyes burn into your back until you were out of his sight. Bucky quickly grabbed your notebook and flipped through the pages, before pulling his phone out. He snapped photos of every single thing you’ve written. From novel ideas to entries about your life. “Maybe if you let me in then I wouldn’t have to do all this, doll.” He grumbled. As he flipped through your notebook, something fell out. It landed on his foot but he barely felt the impact of it. He reached down and picked it up, realizing it was a polaroid.

Before he could turn it over, the sound of your feet pattering on the wooden floor screamed at him to set everything back to normal. He hurriedly closed the notebook and picked up your belongings, setting them on the small glass table. He shoved the polaroid in his pocket and smiled at you. “That was fast- where’s the lemonade?” He questioned, making you smile meekly. “It’s inside.” Your voice was small, quiet. He clearly enjoyed the fact that you were intimidated by him, that you were scared of him. You led him into your home and he acted as if he hadn’t been in it already, marvelling at every aspect of your living space. “Can you um, take your shoes off?” You requested, but your tone of voice made it seem like a demand. He raised a challenging eyebrow at you and took his shoes off at a painful pace. C’mon doll, being so rude to a world hero? If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even be alive at this point. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude!” You apologize quickly, pouring him a glass of lemonade.

Bucky flashed you a smile that was both sweet and sultry. Oh, the things he did to you. You handed him the cup and watched him drink it all down. Your lemonade-making skills were a bit rusty, but it seemed to you that he enjoyed the refreshment very much. Maybe a little too much. “Y’know, I might have to steal this recipe from ya. It tastes just like the way my ma used to make it.” He stared out into space blankly, his features softening completely as he spoke of his mother. You felt giddy with his praise, and he let out a coo as you looked at the bland kitchen tiles. It’s weird that you hadn’t noticed the faint footstep print. You frowned and tried to think back as to when you stepped into the kitchen with muddy shoes, and you couldn’t recall anything. “What’s wrong doll, hm?” Bucky asked, leaning over the counter. “It’s nothing.” You spoke too soon, which told him that in fact it was something. “So, have you planted any flowers?” You questioned, changing the conversation. Bucky’s jaw clenched as soon as you did, he hated that. “Yeah, some roses, some marigolds and some cosmos and I have yet to plant some asters.” He divulged into the topic of his garden and he slowly began to light up in a way that had you smiling. “The flowers are pretty, just not like you.” He spoke loudly. Your shy smile turned into a grin, and you thanked him.

“Just the truth, doll.” Doll, how many times had that nickname slipped from his lips? No, wrong question. How many times did that nickname make your poor little heart flutter? Bucky smiled as he heard your the pace of your heart beats pick up for the nth time. He walked around the counter slowly, all whilst staring at you like you were his prey. You took a step backwards but his hand on your waist stopped you. “Why? I- I don’t know what you want. Y- You’re confusing me, Buck.” You stammered, but your tone held so much frustration that he understood where you were coming from. “I want you doll, but not like this. No, one day.” His words baffled you and so did his actions. His grip left your waist but it still lingered, and he grabbed his gardening gloves. “Tomorrow, tomorrow we’ll figure this all out, doll.” He spoke softly, smiling at you. He slipped his shoes back and he left you all alone in the kitchen. Your mind replayed everything that had happened, and you were bewildered. “James Buchanan Barnes, could you be any more confusing?” You wondered aloud.

Bucky shut the door behind him and took off his shoes, leaving the gloves on the small table that was beside the door. He walked into the kitchen and plucked the Stark Industries tablet off of its charging pad. With a few gentle taps, he watched you clean up the house impassively. He chuckled, knowing that he had twisted the wires in your mind so much you couldn’t be left some with your thoughts. His long, lithe fingers paused the live video and he admired the way your tongue peaked out of your supple lips in concentration. He spotted the notebook once again and recalled the polaroid he had purloined from you. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it over, his eyes going wide at the image that you had kept.

Oh doll, how could you betray me like this?

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fuzzyporcupine · 4 years

Text

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 7

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

rating: explicit

word count: 15,443

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 7:

Eren entered the studio with more than enough time to spare. Not in any way dressed for a portrait, but on time nonetheless. Thankfully, Levi only needed to accomplish a sketch today. The attire could be forgiven for now.

Eren leaned against the doorframe, a tight golden waistcoat highlighting the man’s frame.

“I see your illness has faded, Your Highness.” Levi continued to clear his workstation as the prince sighed dramatically.

“As you commanded, artist.” Levi’s fingers stilled over the brushes. He thought about the venom he’d spewed at the prince in the bedroom. Thought about how angry he had been as he marched out of the room. The guards hadn’t paid him any mind as he shuffled back to the studio with tight fists and a furrowed brow, well-warned by Petra. The time alone had allowed him to decompress, to curb his thinking from wrapping his hands around the prince’s neck to that of a brush instead.

“Quite,” Levi muttered, returning to shuffling through his supplies. The sound of advancing footsteps bounced off the stone as Eren approached him from behind. He felt a headache beginning to swell deep beneath his eyes. One that would surely only add fuel to this infuriating fire. Bringing thin fingers between his brow, Levi pressed gently against the soft skin. Usually, he could simply will the pain away. Could push the ache into the dark abscesses of his mind to be reignited on another day. However, now with Eren’s gaze demanding attention, he was finding it hard to ignore the subtle throbbing.

“Are you alright?” The prince’s breath fluttered delicately over the back of his neck, twisting heat around the bones of his spine. And he hated it, almost as much as he despised the goddamn royal family. Hated the way Eren was able to pick and probe these reactions out of him as if he were some young girl vying to lose her maidenhead. It was unequivocally, irrevocably insane. To be nearing his thirtieth year and still acting like a young boy going through puberty. Levi could curse himself - curse the dreadful prince, as well.

He turned around slowly, cautious of the ever-growing pounding ricocheting inside of his skull. Levi expected to see a smug grin, a look of enjoyment over his suffering. He figured that Eren would be all the more pleased to find that his own drunken aliment had seemingly shifted its host over to Levi. The irony was indeed thick, Levi supposed. However, instead of a gleeful smirk and self-righteous glare, Levi found a wrinkled brow. Eyes that were normally so wide and full of pride were now narrowed and searching, darting quickly across Levi’s face. Thin lips pressed tight as Levi’s fingers dropped to fiddle with the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled wearily, watching the way Eren’s brows pulled a little tighter. “I’m fine.” There was a short pause, and then the prince was nodding, feet shuffling backward against the hard grey stone. The whole scene was baffling. More so than when Eren stormed into the dining room in nothing but nightclothes. The thought had his palms going sweaty against the white fabric still being fussed about between dexterous fingers.

Eren stared at him, looking one half bewildered and the other half perturbed. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Petra knows a great remedy for those. Tastes like shit but does its job,” Eren laughed awkwardly. The sound had his toes curling uncomfortably in his boots. The prince looked away then, sparkling eyes roving over the blank open canvas. “Where do you want me?”

“The fireplace,” he said without hesitation. Levi remembered how the location had called so loudly to him. The elegant lines, the stone etched to perfection. His only hope would be that the backdrop would not upstage the prince himself. It would be a far cry, though, as loathe as Levi was to admit it.

Eren was a handsome man, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Thick dark brows hovering over fierce wide eyes that almost verged on too large. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses.

The aching in his skull had thankfully drizzled off into a manageable thud by the time Eren found a spot in front of the fireplace. The man hovered there, hands gracelessly hanging off to the side. It was slightly satisfying to see Eren looking so out of place especially after being so often on the receiving end of the prince’s brash humor.

“I believe that I’m at a bit of a loss here, artist,” Eren admitted, sagging broad shoulders with a heavy sigh.

Levi looked boredly over the edge of the canvas. “Haven’t you done this before?” Eren bristled marginally at that, and Levi had to fight back a devilish grin.

“When I was twelve!” The prince’s voice cracked hilariously and a fabulous flush crept up onto the man’s cheeks as Levi watched Eren sway anxiously back and forth. He took pity on the poor soul, scoffing as he placed the pencil down on the table next to the empty canvas. Standing, Levi gave Eren an assessing look, analyzing the man’s position as he stepped closer.

“Act natural.” Eren huffed crudely at the comment, spine stiffening beneath Levi’s stare. The stance was similar to a toy soldier Levi once owned as a child, wooden limbs ramrod straight at the sides. While appealing to a figurine young boys and girls could play with, the posture was thoroughly horrid for a portrait. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses, Levi reminded himself. “Now you look like you need to take a royal shit,” he chided, crossing his arms against a sturdy chest.

The blush on Eren’s cheeks deepened brilliantly. “You’re being far too vague,” the prince muttered quietly, pride effectively wounded. A small part of Levi wanted to reassure the man that the art of posing for a portrait did not come as natural as one would expect. However, a much larger part enjoyed seeing Eren’s tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Relax your shoulders,” Levi said. Eren did as much, rolling them back into what appeared to be a much more comfortable position. “Now turn your body to the left.” He watched as Eren turned on his heels, eyes now facing the Jaeger family crest posted to the wall. Levi stepped forward. “Bring your chest towards me. For fuck’s sake, not your entire bloody body.”

Eren scowled, frustration clearly nearing the end of its rope. “This is damn near impossible.” That was a rather final word for it, Levi thought. The game had seemingly run its course, and despite his gratification over watching Eren squirm, he did not want to risk having the prince storm off in a snit like before.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he surmised, thumb stroking the underside of a pointed chin. Confidence supporting his gait, Levi strode forward until he was within arm’s reach of the prince. “Face the wall again.” He watched the prince eye him up and down warily. “Before the sun falls, Your Highness.” Eren sighed irritably as the wide gaze was once again fashioned to the vibrant green tapestry.

“Absolutely impossible,” he heard Eren mutter quietly into the air. The breath was sucked straight back into the man’s lungs, however, when Levi wrapped tentative fingers around either side of the thin waist. Time seemed to still for a quiet moment, and the prince stiffened. The skin felt red hot beneath his touch, warmth seeping through the fabric and onto the pads of his fingertips. Could feel the way the muscles moved and flexed beneath the flesh as he twisted Eren’s upper half marginally to the right. Levi dropped the clutch, satisfied when the prince held the position without being corrected. Next, he grasped Eren’s right arm, bending it at the elbow before trailing his palm down to the man’s wrist.

“Take hold of your belt,” Levi requested.

“Rather uncouth of you to assume my innocence is so easily won, artist,” Eren jested, mouth pulling maddeningly at the corners. To hear the prince describe himself as innocent almost yanked a chuckle from his throat. Almost. Instead, he gifted the infuriating bastard with a deadly glower as he dropped his hand.

“Grab the damn belt.” With the instructions delivered, Levi turned and shuffled back over to the canvas, hoping that the grit of his teeth wasn’t too audible. The expectation that the pose would be held was minimal at best, nonexistent at worst. However, when Levi looked back over his shoulder he saw to his surprise that the stance was exactly as he’d envisioned - give or take the shit-eating grin.

Moving behind the blank linen, Levi selected a pencil from the complied lot of tools to begin the sketch. It was a soft, smooth grey. Perfect for capturing lines and easily covered with the drag of a brush. For now, he only needed to reproduce the simple shapes that would eventually be reconstructed into the prince’s form.

Hooded eyes only barely reached above the edge of the canvas, his short stature dwarfed by the coarse cloth. Levi typically didn’t work on portraits so large, and if he were capturing anyone other than the shitting smiling bastard before him, Levi might be apt to ask for a stool. As it was, he would rather face the entire Shiganshina army with only his paintbrushes as a means of defense.

He worked in relative silence, save for the scratching of the pencil across the linen. His gaze flitted quickly between the man and the canvas. Rough lines began to appear, boxy shapes symbolizing hands and shoulders.

“I beg your pardon if I’ve caused offense.” The statement caused a line to go astray. Levi swore quietly beneath his breath, rubbing away the error with the side of his hand. The prince would truly be the death of him. Perhaps literally.

To be quite honest, he was wholly surprised that Eren even had the ability to utter words that weren’t a vulgar insinuation or an infuriating quip. An apology was definitely not considered to be a part of the man’s vocabulary.

Levi's voice failed him as he tried to conjure up a worthy response. One that would likely tell Eren which unspeakable place the man could shove the pleas of forgiveness. Instead, Levi was left to hide shamefully behind the canvas as he attempted to avoid Eren’s pointed stare.

“You simply intrigue me.” Levi’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Intrigued? He had no idea how to respond to such a claim. One was intrigued by the leaves morphing colors on the trees or the way the stars glittered brightly at night. But Levi? Intriguing? He should perish the thought.

When Levi looked up, an unyielding stare immediately sought out his eyes. “I can assure you,” he finally said, voice not quite as steely as he’d hoped, “that this curiosity is misplaced.” Levi watched as the man’s posture slipped. “As is your right arm.” The prince quickly righted himself back into position.

“How self-loathing,” Eren muttered.

Levi ignored the quip, returning to the sketch. To anyone else, the scribbles would be puzzling. A scattered mess of unconnected dots and lines. However, Levi recognized the sketch for what it was - the beginning of a potential masterpiece. The majority of the prince’s outline lined the canvas. Hands, legs, arms, and torso all sketched to represent an estimated length and width. Levi had saved the face for last. It was, without question, the most crucial element of the portrait. Oftentimes, he had been asked to substitute hands that were thought to look too old or bellies that appeared to be too fat. But the face was always that of the owner’s. He gazed at Eren’s now, noticing how the intensity behind the man’s eyes had not diminished even with Levi’s blunt rebuttal. He tried to read them, to find something within the swirling depths. Though it was unclear to Levi what he was even looking for. Sarcasm? Ridicule?

Curiosity?

He scoffed softly to himself, eyes falling away from Eren’s commanding stare.

The face would have to wait until the morrow when his head was sat correctly on his shoulders. Regardless, the fireplace still needed to be outlined into the background, something that would not require Eren’s presence.

“We are finished for today, Your Highness,” Levi said, bowing slightly. The rumblings of the headache reawakening began to whistle between his ears. Unlike the others, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if this one was well-deserved. Thinking so deeply about how Eren perceived him or what the man’s intentions were would do nothing but drive him utterly mad.

The prince relaxed, falling out of the chosen position. “Thank the gods.” Levi did feel at least a modicum of sympathy for the man. Despite his chiding, Eren had remained steady for the majority of the session. It was more than he could say for most clients. “Will you require me again tomorrow?” Levi nodded, pencil going back to work as he etched out the beginnings of the fireplace. “Good. I shall require you, as well.”

The line crooked to the side as his hand twitched.

Eren’s boots clicked against the floor as he approached the canvas. “Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast is served.” Levi looked up at the man as if he had grown two heads. In actuality, that feat might have been more realistic than the thought of Levi Ackerman campaigning with a member of the Jaeger family after breakfast. The very idea had his gut twisting in a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. “Until tomorrow, artist.”

And with that, Eren took his exit, leaving behind a very befuddled - if not slightly captivated (though he would wholly deny it) - Levi to wonder what glorious plan the prince had in store.

#ereri fanfic #ereri #riren #fic: lead me with your hands tied #another day another chapter

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (11/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Implied medical abuse and vivisection; mild blood and gore.

===

Forged Through Fire

Eleven

“Well, that’s not at all ominous.”

“You can’t deny that it’s the perfect place to house a super-secret alchemy laboratory, though.”

Riza peered out of the car window at the building they had pulled up across the street from. It looked like it was on the verge of collapsing, the very definition of a dead building, surrounded by high fences with ‘CONDEMNED BUILDING IN DANGER OF COLLAPSE, NO ENTRY’ signs plastered all over them.

“How stable is it?” she asked.

“The building itself is more stable than you’d think from looking at it, but the lab’s underground anyway.” Marcoh sighed. “I swore I’d never come back here, you know.”

“We surmised as much,” Roy said. “But we’re very grateful that you’re here nonetheless.”

“For the record, I think that this is the worst idea anyone’s ever had, and I’ll remind you that I used to work directly for the Fuhrer and was there when he dreamed up Project Xerxes.”

“This can’t be as bad as that, surely.”

“It’s up there.” Marcoh looked to Roy on one side of him and Riza on the other; Armstrong was driving with Havoc riding shotgun. “We’d better go before they clock that we’re up to something. Are you ready?”

Riza readjusted her borrowed uniform; it felt strange to be wearing military blues and even stranger to be wearing Roy’s clothes, even if Gracia had altered the spare jacket and pants to fit.

“I think we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Come on, the longer we spend out here, the longer they keep doing whatever it is that they’re doing to Hohenheim.”

They got out of the car and Armstrong and Havoc drove away to go and enact their part in the plan.

“Don’t you think that someone would have noticed people going in and out of this supposedly dilapidated building all the time?” Riza pointed out as they crossed the street towards the gates. “Especially if the people are obviously government, even more especially if one of them is the Fuhrer, and even more than that if some of the people are being dragged in unconscious with black bags over their heads.”

“It’s not exactly a highly populous area.” Marcoh gestured around at the other blocks around them; most of them were in a similar state of disrepair to the lab’s front even if they weren’t actively condemned, and even though night had fallen, there weren’t any lights burning in any of the windows. “Most of the people who live in this area want to keep a low profile anyway; if they see something strange then they aren’t going to question it. Besides, the prisoners all come in via the vehicle entrance in the next block.” That was the entrance that Armstrong and Havoc were going to infiltrate.

“I mean, ordinarily I would use that one too, but Mustang here wanted to make an entrance,” Marcoh groused.

Roy shrugged. “If you’re going to take refuge in audacity, go the whole hog.”

“The thing working in your favour, obviously, is that this lab is by necessity pretty cut off from the rest of the military network so that as few people as possible know about it.”

“Considering how frantic Central Command was earlier when they couldn’t find Bradley, I can well believe that,” Roy muttered.

Marcoh was examining the padlock on the gates. “Ugh, they changed the combination since I was last here. Never mind.” He pulled some chalk out of his pockets and drew a small transmutation circle on the padlock, pressing his hand over it; the metal sparked bright white and the lock gave out. It seemed simple. Too simple. Riza’s hand went unconsciously under her jacket to the gun belt at the back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap.

Nevertheless, this was the only plan that they had and the only plan that might have any chance of working.

They made their way up the rubble-strewn path towards the main door of the building. Now that Riza was closer, she could see that unlike the rest of the structure, this was definitely completely up to scratch – heavy and reinforced and showing no signs of wear and tear, a dead giveaway that this was not at all what it seemed to be.

Marcoh drew another transmutation circle and the door swung open under his touch, leading to a dark corridor that seemed to have no connection to the rest of the building.

“Be careful; there are steps downward about ten feet along,” Marcoh said. “Follow me.”

Riza and Roy inched along in the gloom, although Marcoh seemed assured of where he was going. They were about fifteen steps down when there was a clunk and the stairwell was bathed in a flickering glow of light; Marcoh had flipped a switch somewhere on the wall. Riza glanced over at Roy. His expression was hard to read in the dim light, but he looked focussed, sharp. Riza hoped that her own worry wasn’t etched on her face.

She had volunteered for this part of the mission, knowing that she wouldn’t be recognised by the military where others might be. Roy was willing to take the risk, knowing that they would need more alchemic power than just Marcoh if it came down to a fight, especially since Marcoh’s speciality was medical and Roy’s was combative, and if they needed any current military knowledge then Marcoh and Riza would both be stymied by lack of familiarity.

There was also the fact that Riza didn’t think they’d have been able to keep Roy away if they’d tried. A long and loud argument had ensued after the incident with Kimblee in the ammo cabinet, since it was only a matter of time before Roy’s name came up in connection with that, but Roy had won out, and here they were, about to enter the villains’ lair.

The steps came to an end in front of another door, and Marcoh turned back to them.

“This is it. Once we’re in, there’s no turning back. Are you ready?”

Riza nodded. “We’re ready.”

Another transmutation circle unlocked the door and they stepped into the Fifth Laboratory proper, a long, dingy corridor stretching out to the left and the right. The place wasn’t any more inspiring than the steps down to it had been, and Riza shivered at the inherent creepiness of it all.

Marcoh led the way confidently down the corridor. There was no sense in being furtive if they were to achieve what they’d set out to do, in fact, that was the entire point. As long as they acted like they had every right to be there, then the plan would hopefully go off without a hitch. If they started behaving suspiciously in any way…

“Hey!” A young military officer had come out of a door into the corridor in front of them. “You can’t be down here!”

“Yes I can,” Marcoh said calmly, continuing to walk straight on with calm self-assurance.

“Halt!” The officer pulled out his sidearm and aimed it at Marcoh, who stopped but didn’t raise his hands in surrender.

“Young man, do you have any idea who I am?”

“You’re trespassing.”

“I can hardly trespass in my own laboratory. I can see that you’re young, so I can forgive you for not knowing me. My name is Dr Marcoh, and I am the head of this facility.”

The officer lowered his gun, staring bug-eyed at Marcoh.

“Dr Marcoh? But you’re…”

“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Marcoh’s voice was as mild as if he’d been commenting on the weather. “Since the unsuccessful attempt on my life I’ve been lying low to avoid a repeat performance, but on hearing about the chaos going on in Central at the moment I decided that the time was right to come back and see just what kind of havoc has been wreaked in my absence. So, if you could please alert your superior and let them know that I would like to see them, I would be most obliged.”

“Yes, erm, right away, sir.” The young soldier holstered his gun again and waved for them to follow him down the corridor, showing them into a small office. “I’ll, erm, I’ll need to get my CO to verify all this.”

As soon as the younger officer had left the room, locking the door behind him, Roy sprung into action, moving chairs and climbing up towards the ventilation grill on the wall. As Marcoh had explained to them earlier, the main laboratory experiment room where they would be working on Hohenheim could only be accessed through several other rooms if they wanted to go in through the doors, so to save effort and time, it would be easier to go directly there through the air vents, however much of a pain shuffling through them might have been. The grill came away easily enough, and Roy gave Riza a leg up into the shaft.

There was so much dust that Riza had to press a hand over her face to stop her sneezing. There was just enough room to get through on hands and knees, but turning round would be impossible so she hoped that Marcoh’s mental plan of the place still rang true or they might end up lost in the vents forever. She shuffled forward a little to allow Roy to get up into the shaft behind her, slapping at the cobwebs that crisscrossed in front of her before finally giving up and pulling her turtleneck up over her mouth and nose. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it would stop her choking and giving away their position.

“Good luck,” she heard Marcoh hiss as he replaced the grill behind them.

“We’ll need it,” Roy muttered.

They set off, their progress somewhat painstaking with the need not to make any noise and the undeniable fact that ventilation shafts were in their very nature noisy.

“I really hope there aren’t any rats in here,” Roy whispered. Riza stopped and glanced behind her, glaring at him. He dutifully looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

The shaft got darker and darker as they moved away from the room that they had left Marcoh in, and Riza felt along blindly, scared of somehow falling down a long drop. Eventually, after a sharp left turn, another grill came into sight, and she slowed down, inching forward to take a look through it.

It was not the room they wanted, but she still had to hold back a gasp at what she was seeing nonetheless. Below them, Bradley was sitting in what appeared to be a normal doctor’s office, not unlike the makeshift clinic back at the bar. He was hooked up to a couple of drips, but the one that caught Riza’s attention was the blood bag transfusing into his veins.

She felt Roy tap her ankle to get her attention and she glanced back at him, finger to her lips, then pointing at the grill. He nodded his understanding, and Riza continued to watch what was going on for a moment, focussing on the blood. Looking closely, she could see the odd tiny red spark crackle in the dark liquid, and if she hadn’t already been convinced it was Hohenheim’s blood then that sealed the deal.

“How much longer do you think it will take?” Bradley asked presently, and Riza heard the unseen second occupant of the room moving around.

“The process has slowed down. I think we’ve reached capacity in terms of how quickly he can regenerate the lost blood.”

The other figure moved into Riza’s field of vision, evidently a doctor of some sort, checking the drip line into Bradley’s arm.

“How are you feeling?”

“No different to normal.”

“Well, it might take a while to have any effect, and it may take us several attempts to get the refining process right.” Riza craned to see as much of the room as she could, and her heart leapt to her mouth when she saw the containers of blood lined up on the doctor’s desk. How much had they taken from him already?

Roy tapped her ankle again and she shuffled forward so that he could take a look through the grill as well. If nothing else, at least it showed them how close they were to their destination. If Marcoh’s memories were to be believed then the inner lab room would be the next grill on the left.

She froze as she heard the door to the room below burst open, and the person who had opened it be rebuked severely by Bradley and the doctor.

“I’m sorry, Sirs, it’s just that Dr Marcoh’s here!”

“What?”

“Dr Marcoh! He just arrived!”

“That’s impossible!”

“Evidently not.” Bradley’s voice was dry. “Go and see what he wants.”

Roy nudged Riza again and she kept moving as quietly as she could, feeling him shuffling along behind her, and it was only once they had rounded the next corner and could no longer hear Bradley and the doctor talking that she heard Roy swear violently but almost silently. Riza agreed with the sentiment completely. They were getting Hohenheim out by any means necessary.

Riza almost missed the next grill since the room it opened onto wasn’t anywhere near as brightly lit as the office had been, but her shoulder brushed against it and she stopped suddenly, Roy bumping into her. Peering down through the grating, she let her eyes become accustomed to the faint light inside, an eerie red coloured emergency bulb set high in the wall above the door.

Hohenheim was there, strapped down to a table in the middle of the room. He didn’t look conscious, and Riza’s heart was pounding in her ears.

“Riza?” Roy hissed. She glanced behind her and nodded. No time to dwell on the horror; they had to get the grate off from the inside and get down into the room without Bradley in the office next door hearing anything. She moved up to let Roy get at the grate, shuffling on until she found the next junction and awkwardly turning around. By the time she got back, Roy was drawing out a transmutation circle onto the grill. He gave her a look that said ‘pray this works’ and pressed his palm to the chalk.

The metal started to bend and warp under Roy’s touch, and although the process was slow-going to avoid making any noise, eventually the grate was open. Roy stuck his head out of the gap, then one hand, snapping to produce a spark and using the ensuing ball of flame as a torch to look around the room.

“We should be ok, it’s soundproofed,” he whispered. Riza didn’t want to think about why it was soundproofed. She glanced down at Hohenheim again before Roy began to pull himself through the hole, dropping down onto the ground heavily. Both of them froze, but the soundproofing appeared to have done its job and Roy held out his arms to catch Riza as she followed him down.

Hohenheim was cuffed down at all five points and Riza began to undo the stiff buckles holding the metal in place, Roy providing flickering flame light to work by. The short chain lengths attaching the cuffs to the table clinked ominously, and both of them kept looking towards the door for the slightest hint of what might be happening with Bradley and the doctor in the next room.

“Roy, what do we do about that?” Riza pointed to the tubes snaking out of Hohenheim’s chest, draining his blood slowly and directly from his major veins.

“Well, in any other circumstances, just yanking it out would be a bad idea, but this is Hohenheim so if anyone can survive it, he can.”

“You heard the doctor though. He’s running on empty.”

They didn’t really have much choice, and Roy made the decision for her, grabbing the tubes and pulling. Riza was glad he wasn’t awake for it. Immediately, blood started to pour steadily from the opening; Riza pulled off her jacket to use as a compress, realised how filthy it was from the trip through the vents and just used her hands instead. After a couple of agonising seconds, she finally felt the crackle of alchemy below her palms and Roy gave a sigh of relief, putting out the flame he’d sparked to cauterise the wound. Hohenheim was still alive and still immortal, for now at least.

Riza wiped her hands on the jacket.

“Hohenheim? Hohenheim, can you hear us?”

There was no response. She wondered how heavily sedated he was, or if he’d just passed out from the blood loss.

Roy went over to the door, listening closely and peering through the keyhole. They had already known that there was no way they would be getting out the same way that they got in, so now they just had to wait and hope that the rest of the plan went off without a hitch. Although Riza had her pistols with her and Roy was carrying as well after the excursion to the armoury, she really hoped that they wouldn’t have to shoot their way out.

Hohenheim gave a muted groan, and Riza took his arm around her shoulders to pull him up. She hadn’t realised how tall he was until he was a dead-weight.

“R’za?” He squinted at her as she dragged him off the table.

“Sh, we’re here to rescue you.”

Roy rushed back over to help and they made an ungainly way back to the door, listening for the hopefully obvious signs that the other part of the plan had worked.

There was no mistaking the ear-splitting shrill of the fire alarm, and the sounds of panicked confusion beginning in the rest of the building began to echo through the vents. On the other side of the door, Riza could hear raised voices and anger. Together she and Roy pushed Hohenheim further back into the corner - he was still way too groggy to be able to react quickly to anything, if he could react at all. There was the sound of a key in the door lock. Riza grabbed a pistol. Roy was poised ready to spark.

The door was flung open and they pressed themselves back to the wall behind it as the room was flooded with painfully bright light, showing the very empty table and the transmuted grate. “They’re in the vents!”

Whoever had opened the door turned and rushed back out again, and Riza looked at Roy. He nodded, then waited a moment before inching around the door and looking through into the room beyond.

“We’re clear, Bradley’s gone.”

They hoisted Hohenheim up between them and made their way out of the lab room and into the office, hastily abandoned, and Riza went to check that their exit route was clear. She could hear people running around, but this stretch of corridor was clear; presumably even within secret locations there were some parts that were even more secret than others, and she doubted that Bradley would have wanted too many people hanging around and potentially finding out about his immortality treatment going on.

She nodded to Roy.

“Wait.” Roy gestured to the bottles of Hohenheim’s blood stacked up on the desk. “We need to do something about those. Might as well stop them in their tracks whilst we can. God knows no-one needs an immortal Fuhrer Bradley.”

Riza nodded. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I don’t think that pouring it down the drain would be a good idea; I don’t want to think about mutant immortal crocodiles in the sewers under Amestris.”

“I don’t think that there are any crocodiles in the sewers in a land-locked country, but I get your point.”

Roy held up a hand, poised to snap. “I don’t think that torching the entire room will dramatically lower the market value of this place too much.”

Riza just stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“There’s already a fire alarm going off.” Roy shrugged. “Might as well give them something to be alarmed about.”

They made it out of the room and along the corridor a little way, leaning Hohenheim on the wall. He was getting more and more with it, but he was still weak and it was taking time for his regeneration to get him back to normal. Roy went back to the doorway and snapped. Riza could see the flames licking the doorway, lighting up Roy’s grim face for a while as he watched the blaze begin to consume the room. Satisfied that everything had been destroyed, he came back towards her as smoke began to billow out, and the three of them made their way as quickly as they could through the corridors.

They were almost out of this section of the rabbit warren when they came face to face with the doctor from the office, no doubt hurrying back to check on his precious experiment.

“Where are you going with my Philosopher’s Stone?”

Riza glanced sideways at Hohenheim; despite the fact he probably still had sedatives coursing through his system and was still recovering from his copious blood loss, the stare that he was fixing on the doctor was pure, unadulterated rage. If looks could kill, Hohenheim’s death glare could have buried this gold-toothed bastard three times over.

Riza adjusted her grip on Hohenheim and reached behind her for a pistol with her other hand, but she didn’t need to fire. The wall next to them swelled and reformed with a shriek of brick and plaster under strain, smacking out and sending the doctor flying. He landed limply with a groan, and Riza looked sideways again. Hohenheim hadn’t moved, but she caught the slight quirk of a satisfied smile on his face before he gave a shuddering groan of exertion.

Roy gave an impressed nod. “Yes, that’s certainly one way of doing it.”

They continued on until they reached the corner; Riza darted ahead to peer around and nearly yelled as she came face to face with Havoc in his dark covert ops clothing. He lowered his gun.

“Thank God Marcoh’s got a good mental map, I was beginning to think I’d never find you. You’ve caused so much chaos, by the way. They’ve got people all over the air vents now. This way’s clear back here. Hey Doc,” he added to Hohenheim, going over to where he was leaning against the wall and taking an arm around his shoulders as they moved off in convoy in the direction Havoc had just come from. “Good to see you.”

“Is Trisha ok?”

Roy gave Hohenheim a look. “You’re besotted. You’re only half awake, you can barely stand, you’ve just spent I don’t know how long having your blood siphoned off and your first thought is Trisha.”

Havoc laughed. “Hohenheim’s a lover, not a fighter, Roy. We’ve always known this. She’s fine, Doc; she’s safe at the shop with Hughes and Madam.”

They had only gone around one more corner when they hit a large obstacle.

“Right.” Havoc visibly deflated at the sight of the heavy wall blocking the corridor in front of them. “Will you believe me when I say that wasn’t there before?”

Roy nodded and gave a long sigh. “Yes. It’s a fire barrier, it would have come down when I started throwing actual fire around.”

“I suppose the whole point of it is that there isn’t an alternative exit?” Havoc sighed as Roy shook his head.

“It’s fine.” Hohenheim pulled himself upright against Havoc’s shoulder and reached out towards the barrier. Red sparks crackled around the edges and the entire thing exploded outwards. Havoc just looked at him, and he shrugged.

“Sorry it wasn’t neater. Haven’t got full control back yet.”

Havoc just continued to stare as they stepped through the rubble. “You know, I’m really glad you’re on our side.”

They continued to make their way through the labyrinth of the laboratory, out towards the exit where Havoc and Armstrong had come in with the car. Riza was glad of Havoc being there to guide them; they’d passed where she and Roy had come in with Marcoh and they were into unknown territory now. The smoke from Roy’s earlier fire in the doctor’s office and experiment room continued to follow them, billowing around the ceiling. Their path was starting to cross with other people in the complex now, but no one was paying them any mind, all too concerned with getting out as soon as possible now that it was evident that there was definitely a fire in the building somewhere.

Riza stopped in her tracks when she heard an ominous creak from behind her. It sounded like the entire building was groaning. She remembered the creaking sound that the wall had made when Hohenheim had knocked out the doctor, and the exploding fire door, and the ever-present and ever-increasing smoke.

“I don’t think this building is very structurally sound anymore,” she said, taking to her heels again with the rest of the group. “The ‘in danger of collapse’ sign out front seems more and more accurate.”

The ear-splitting shriek of concrete and metal under pressure was all the warning they had before a massive chunk of ceiling fell down.

“Riza!” Roy practically threw her out of the way, covering her. When the dust cleared, she was glad to see that he was unhurt.

“Roy? Riza?” Havoc yelled from the other side of the debris. “Are you guys ok back there?”

“We’re fine, but we’re not going to get over this in a hurry.” Roy helped Riza back to her feet. “You go ahead and get Hohenheim out of here, that’s what’s important. “

“What about you two?”

“We’ll double back and get out the way we came in with Marcoh.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, now get going before anything else collapses!”

Havoc didn’t need telling twice, and Roy and Riza turned tail, running back in the direction they had just come until they reached the long corridor they’d arrived in before. It was blessedly free from smoke, and the creaking sounds were left behind them.

“Do you think there’s any chance that Bradley’s been crushed under falling masonry?” Riza asked.

“God, I hope so.”

“Is that so, Mustang?”

Riza’s blood ran cold.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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dimpled-gukkie · 5 years

Text

Blossom

A/n: Sorry this fic is long overdue but I finally finished. I hope you all are safe and healthy and hopefully those of you struggling can find solace in this fic.

Pairing: Mafia Member!Jeon Jungkook x Reader/ Florist!Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, mafia au

Word Count: 21.2k

Warnings: Guns, Knives, Violence, mentions of blood, murder (not super graphic), explicit language, kidnapping, car accident, self-hatred, mentions of sex, innuendos, flashback scenes, death, anxiety, heartbreak

Summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

The bell above you chimes as you enter the flower shop, the tension in your shoulders leaving as soon as you smell the floral scent. Ever since you were little you’ve loved flowers, earning yourself the name Blossom. It’s a little ironic to be named after something so delicate given your profession but you prefer the irony. Nothing like showing those arrogant little boys how the big girls play. Your eyes dart to the yellow roses sitting in the corner and carefully you make your way over there, your boots thudding as you walk. You take a brief moment to brush the pad of your finger over the soft petal, pondering taking them home. The sound of approaching footsteps startles you and you jerk away from the flowers, the small smile on your face morphing into a scowl and your eyes harden.

When the figure rounds the corner, you don’t even offer them a greeting before blurting out, “I need three bunches of monkshood.”

“Ahh, so I see common courtesy isn’t your forte.” The figure smiles sharply at you, eyes glinting like the point of the knife tucked into your belt. You grunt and roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him down. The man holds your gaze, brown eyes darkening to nearly black, his body language matching your own. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he holds your gaze for a beat longer before sighing and turning away. Only then do you let your guard down enough to take in the man before you. He has platinum blonde hair, the strands nearly white, and his dark roots peak through when he leans forward to wrap your bouquet. He’s wearing a white sweater and a simple silver bracelet although it looks quite expensive. He must have some other business besides this hole-in-the-wall florist shop. Like he feels your eyes on him he looks up and for the first time in a long time you feel intimidated.”That’ll be $30.” He says gruffly, punching the number into the register before turning it towards you.

Your eyes flick to the spot where he grabbed them, the sign catching your attention.

“The sign says 5 per bundle.”

“I’m charging extra for pain and suffering.” He deadpans, sticking his hand out to you, palm open. The disrespect and attitude he’s giving you is infuriating and yet you do nothing. Well, maybe you’ll do something later. You’re in a hurry.

“I don’t think that’s legal.”

“I’m not sure you’re so innocent yourself sweetheart. You know those mean that death is near right?” Touché. You don’t say anything else to him, throwing the money on the counter before swiping the flowers and storming off. “Hope to see you again sometime!” He calls, the sarcasm so pointed that you feel it cut right through you.

The bundle of flowers is clutched tightly in your hands, the brown wrapping crinkling as you shift the bouquet from hand to hand. Jungkook is late and you’re running on a tight schedule. “Where is that prick?” You mumble to yourself, jumping when lips press against the shell of your ear.

“You talking about me sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers, laughing breathily as you shove him away from you.

“You’re late.” You deadpan, already heading inside. The security men on the main floor of the building pay you no mind as you head straight for the elevators, their heads turning in the opposite direction as you wait for the doors to open.

“Time is relative you know, maybe you’re just early.” Jungkook winks, a smirk pulling at his lips. You roll your eyes and press the button for the top floor, repeatedly pressing for the doors to close.

“I think you’re confused. It’s me who calls the shots not you.” You say causing his smirk to widen, his eyes darkening as he shoves you against the elevator wall, his body flush against your own.

“That so?” He quirks a dark eyebrow up, his midnight eyes boring into your own. The lust swirling in them makes heat pool in your stomach and you struggle to hold his intense gaze. Your pride makes you lean forward, your eyes fluttering at the proximity. Your lips are a centimeter from his own and you find joy in the way he sucks in a shaky breath.

“If I say you’re late, you’re late.” You whisper, relishing in the way your lips brush his own with each syllable. When you pull away, Jungkook licks his lips and his cheeks are now the same color. “What?” You smirk back at him, placing a hand on his chest. You can feel his heart pounding against it, the elevator static with the electricity buzzing between you two. “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean your upper back against the wall.

Jungkook glares, a warm hand wrapping around your waist and landing on your lower back, harshly pulling you into him. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he presses his lips against your own. Hungrily he pries your lips apart, his hands gripping your hips as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He groans and your hand moves to the nape of his neck to pull at strands of his hair. You missed the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body pressed against your own.

The elevator dings and it takes everything in you to pull away, especially when Jungkook looks like pure sin. His lips are swollen and bright pink, hair mussed in the back from your fingers. You swallow loudly as you stare at him, the movement of the doors beginning to close catching your attention. Jutting your hand out, you slip out of the elevators when the doors reopen not checking if Jungkook is following. You know he is, you can feel his heavy stare on your back. You check your reflection in a nearby window, smoothing out your clothes and hair. Your eyes linger on Jungkook’s reflection, standing tall and protective behind you.

You ache to reach behind and grab his hand in your own, to claim him as yours and you his, but as you feel the uncomfortable press of your knives on your thighs you know it’s impossible. You and Jungkook will never amount to anything more than lost lovers, broken souls taking comfort in each other. He’s your temporary home, one that’s always on the verge of foreclosure. You can’t have him forever and it keeps you awake at night.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder before retracting it.

“Just fine.” You snip, adjusting your clothes one final time before heading into the board room. “Hi boys.” You smile, taking a seat at the head of the table as Jungkook flanks you.

“You’re late.” The man across from you snarls, and you throw the bouquet to him.

“Got you a present. Besides, isn’t time relative?” You can hear Jungkook snicker behind you and smirk. The man across from you looks you over slowly, and you cock your head at him. “Can I help you?” You growl just wanting to get this over with.

“Next time you want to have a quickie before a meeting, make sure to fix your appearance.”

“The fuck you just say to her?” Jungkook growls, his gun cocked and loaded before you can even blink. The man appears to be unfazed by the gun aimed between his eyes but you can see the slight tremor in his body. You raise your hand to Jungkook and he reluctantly drops his arm down but keeps the weapon at his side. Standing, you smile at the man, brandishing the knife you’d been holding since he looked at you funny.

“What was that?” You ask, coming behind him to place the blade against his throat. He swallows, gasping slightly when the knife presses into his skin and a trickle of blood flows down his neck. “Sorry I didn’t hear you. I think you’re gonna have to repeat it.” You say lowly.

“I-I said you- you look lovely!” He stammers and you nod at Jungkook stepping away from the man and returning to the head of the table. The man visibly relaxes, his hand coming up to his neck to press against his small cut.

“You wanna know something?” You ask him and he and his colleagues nod frantically in means to appease you. “I hate liars.” As soon as the words leave your lips a bullet is in between the man’s eyes and his body slumps back in the chair. The two men flanking him are frozen before they turn to you with wide eyes, pleas leaving their lips so quickly they’re unintelligible. “Enough! Do you know why I’m here?” You ask and the man on the right smiles weakly.

“To bring us flowers?” He tries to joke, laughing awkwardly before closing his eyes at the sharp look on your face.

“You know why I bring flowers? It’s not just because they call me Blossom.” The mens' eyebrows draw together and you smile wickedly at them. “I bring them as a way of warning. If only people studied their meanings.” You drawl, walking around the room to grab the bouquet. You wipe the blood staining its brown wrapping on the nearest man’s jacket sleeve and bring it back with you to Jungkook. “You know what these mean?” You ask and both men shake their head making your smile widen. “Death.” A knife lands in the man to your right’s chest and he slumps into the chair, his eyes still wide open. You might close them later, it’s creeping you out. The last man standing shakes violently in his chair and you place the flowers back down on the table. “So tell me, just what happened to my last shipment?”

“I-I don’t know.” His voice shakes and a small part of you pities the man. What a horrible way to die.

“Jungkook did I not say I hate like liars?” You ask and Jungkook grunts lowly.

“You did.”

“So tell me, just why did my shipment go to MKJ? And just where did my money go?”

“I-I don’t know. Boss mentioned something about them paying a higher amount. I- I had no part in it, I swear.”

“So you sold my order.”

“Ye-yes.” The man puts his head down in shame and you nod acceptingly.

“So where’s my money?” You ask, grabbing the man by the back of the neck to pull his head back up.

“Processed already. They-they probably used it to buy more equipment for the weaponry.”

“I’m sure you know I want it back. So what’s the password to the account?”

“Interlude” You let go of the man as he trembles and text the password to Taehyung, your resident hacker. He’s lucky and can do all his work from home and you smile at the thought of all the money that’ll be in your account when you get there. You’re gonna milk the place dry. “Any last words?”

“What?” The man exclaims but the feeling of Jungkook’s gun placed against his skull quiets him. “But I told you the password.” You can’t look at him in the eyes so you turn away, hand on the door.

“Yeah but you still lied and I hate liars.” The only thing you can hear is Jungkook’s finger pulling the trigger, the silencer doing its job and not alerting the other workers to the murders that just occurred. “Call Jimin to take care of the rest.” You murmur to Jungkook, leaving the room quickly.

You end up walking home, wanting to busy yourself rather than sit in a car and relive what just happened. You should be okay with homicide, immune to guilt, but the human part of you is horrified by each murder you commit. You can’t stand to look at your hands, the metaphorical blood caked on so thick that they’re a twisted maroon color. Feeling your hands shaking you clench them tightly at your sides, trying to steady your breathing and relax. In your business you can’t show an ounce of weakness, a sliver of vulnerability, because the snakes around you will exploit it. The only person who’s really seen the real part of you, Y/n, is Jungkook. Jungkook is the only one who can slip off your mask, see the scarred and broken girl hidden behind the name Blossom. But because of who you are, the monstrosity of your mask, he’ll never give you what you want. He’ll never make a life with you. You’re just the girl he sees behind closed doors, the one he only whispers that he loves amongst bedsheets. And the lonely part of you clings onto this, your love for him drowning out the doubt, the fear of the heartbreak to come. Because as much as you wish for it, Jungkook’s loyalties will never lie with you.

A car honks at you as you continue you walk down the street and you roll your eyes expecting Jungkook to be hanging out the driver’s window but stiffen when you notice a pistol instead. You drop to the floor in a second, the glass from the window behind you shattering on top of your body. Shaking from adrenaline and fear of being alone with a gunman you push yourself off the ground, wincing as the glass cuts into your hands and take off down the street in the opposite direction. You can hear tires screeching as the car u-turns and push yourself to run faster, hands fumbling with your phone as you call Jungkook on speed dial. He picks up instantly and you strain to focus on his words while trying to find a shop to duck into. “Hey where are you? You okay?” Jungkook asks as gun shots ring behind you. You gotta find a place to hide and fast. “Shit. Are those gunshots? Where are you!” Jungkook yells and you recite the nearest street name as you turn to run down it. You spot the flower shop from earlier and sprint towards it, not bothering to try and listen to Jungkook. “Y/n? Y/n!” Jungkook screams as you slide onto the floral shop’s floor as the car speeds by. Panting you lay on the floor, the phone lying limp in your hand. Jungkook’s now talking to himself, a string of curse words leaving his mouth. You smile a little, heart warmed by the fact that he’s worried.

Bringing the phone to your ear you mumble, “I’m fine.” He lets out a loud sigh of relief before demanding your location. “Uhhh… I don’t know the name actually. Just the flower shop on the same street.”

“Is there a reason why you’re laying on my floor?” A deep voice rumbles and you crane your neck to find the snarky blonde from earlier. Groaning you lay your head back down ignoring him. He taps you with his shoe repeatedly making you swat his leg away. “Get up. You’re making my floors dirty.” Glaring at him you reluctantly stand up, moving to crouch behind the bunches of flowers in case the car circles back around.

“Is someone after you or something?” Yoongi asks skeptically. Turning away from the window you stare at him and he sighs before running a hand through his hair almost nervously. “You get ten minutes before I want you out. I don’t need anyone like that coming here.” You’re not sure what he means when he says anyone like that but the slight worry in his eyes intrigues you. You glance back to his rolex that’s at least $10k and can’t help but wonder if flower boy is more than just your local florist.

True to his word flower boy lets you stay for ten minutes exactly before pushing you out of his shop like some unwanted animal. Jungkook stops the car in the middle of the street, getting out to pull you into his arms. He lets out a shaky sigh, almost like he’d been crying, and you can’t help the way your heart stutters. Maybe you and Jungkook do have a chance. You don’t get long to ponder it though because he pulls away just as quickly, nodding to flower boy who stands in the doorway of the shop before climbing back inside the car. Flower boy’s face is expressionless and makes you a little uneasy. “Thanks for harboring me flower boy.” You joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Just what I need, a fugitive on the run.” He says dryly. The corners of his mouth quirk up and you grin at him.

“I’ll see you around flower boy.”

“Yoongi!” He yells over Jungkook’s honking as you turn to get back into the vehicle.

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks, his jaw ticking. His fingers tap against the steering wheel in an annoyed manner and you lean back against your window to smirk at him.

“Be careful there Jeon, some people might think you’re jealous.” He glares at you and you giggle. “Aww do you care about me?” You tease, reaching over the center console to pinch his cheek. He slaps your hand away and flips you off which only makes you laugh harder. When you settle down and wipe the tears from your eyes you say, “he’s the owner of the shop. I think we’re friends.”

“You have a friend? I’m shocked.” You slap his bicep, completely offended.

“I mean we’re friends aren’t we?”

“Yeah. Friends.” Jungkook says the word pointedly, almost like it’s left a bad taste in his mouth which confuses you. It was his decision to stay friends, saying he could only be friends with benefits at most. But now he says the word like he wants more. Does he? Or was he simply reminding you of what you both are? What you’ll only ever be. Why does this have to be so confusing?

“Jungkook I-“

“Get down.” Jungkook interrupts and your eyes widen. Twice in one day? Well you shouldn’t be surprised since you’re the leader of a big gang and all. Folding your upper half against your thighs you hold your breath, your heart racing in your chest. Even though you’ve faced near death many times, you’ll never get comfortable with death knocking on your doorstep. Ironic since you’re a killer yourself. You should be comfortable with dying and yet it’s one of the things you’re scared of the most. But you trust Jungkook, so as he gets his gun out of the waistband of his pants you take a deep breath. You’ll be okay as long as he’s with you. Jungkook curses under his breath and you panic when you notice him roll his window down, his gun pointed out of it. Is the car pulling up next to you? Sitting up despite Jungkook’s command you pull out your knives, hoping to at least nail your attacker with one if you and Jungkook are ambushed. In some instances a surprise knife can win in a gun fight. But at least if you and Jungkook do die, you’ll die trying. Reaching over you squeeze Jungkook’s hand in reassurance and also to feel his hand in yours for what could be the last time, your chest tightening as the car idles up beside you. The passenger door opens and you launch your knife, blinking confusedly as you hear a voice very similar to Jimin scream.

“What the hell Blossom?” Jimin yells, appearing in front of Jungkook’s window. He pays no mind to the gun resting in front of his face or the surprised look on Jungkook’s, only to the knife lodged in the exterior of his car. “I just got this wrapped.” He whines, stroking the side of his car with a pout. Yanking the knife out with a huff he hands it back to you, reaching into the car to unlock it before climbing into the backseat. “Why would you throw a knife at me?” Jimin asks as the car behind you honks, breaking you and Jungkook out of your haze as he presses on the gas, his gun lying on his lap. You take it from him and stick it in the cupholder, uncomfortable with it lying so freely with the safety off.

“We thought you were someone else.” You say, looking through the car mirrors. “I got shot at earlier.”

“Oh really?” Jimin asks excitedly. “It’s been so long since I got any action.”

“That’s because the last time you got a little too carried away.” You turn in your seat to scold him.

“Okay so I got a little trigger happy, sue me. I got the job done though didn’t I?” Jimin huffs, raising his palms in a defensive manner.

“Yeah but there were so many casualties the police thought there was a serial killer on the loose. We don’t need that kind of press.”

“You make me sound like some kind of psychopath.” Jimin whines and you and Jungkook look at each other knowingly.

“I hate you both.” Jimin glares with his arms crossed as the two of you burst into laughter.

When you return back to headquarters Jungkook returns to his stoic self, face void of any emotions. He goes back to acting like he doesn’t care about you, like the only reason he interacts with you is out of obligation. Sometimes you wonder if he actually does feel this way, his acting is so good. You sigh and run a hand through your slightly damp hair, moistened by the sweat from the stressful encounter earlier, and watch as his back disappears from view.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jimin asks and your eyes widen for a second.

“What are you insinuating Park Jimin?” You ask with a pointed gaze.

“You can drop the whole Blossom act babe, it’s just us three in the house. Besides you expect me to not notice two of my closest friends are in love with each other? You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jungkook and I are just friends.” You say monotonously from having to repeat it so many times.

“Only’ll go as far as fuck buddies huh?” Jimin’s tone is pitying and you hate it. You hate that he’s so observant, that he somehow knows your exact situation. Did Jungkook confide in him or is Jimin really more intuitive than you thought? It’s hard enough to be vulnerable in front of Jungkook and you love him. The thought that Jimin can read you so easily is unsettling. “He talked to me about it when he was drunk. That’s how I know.” What is Park Jimin, some kind of mindreader?

“Did he say anything else? About- about us?” You can’t stop the question from falling from your lips, not when you can find out what Jungkook is thinking. Sometimes when you’re just cuddling in your bed after catching your breaths after sex, you’ll talk about random things. But you can’t help but feel like he’s holding back. Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he bites back. You wish he’d just say it, just end it if that’s what he’s been thinking. You don’t know how much longer you can take this before it breaks you entirely. Before you’re so far gone that you lose all sense of yourself, that the you you were pre-jungkook is gone entirely, lost amongst your murky memories. You worry you’re already past the point of no return.

“He wishes things were different. He just kept repeating that over and over. That he wishes he could go back and change the past.” Jimin’s eyes are rounded with sympathy and you wish you’d have never opened your mouth.

“What the hell does that mean?” Jimin places his hand on your arm and you shrug it off, wanting to be alone. To get out of this suffocating atmosphere, away from the damning thoughts running through your mind. He must not want you anymore. He wishes you’d have never hooked up that one night two years ago. That he didn’t fall in love with you. He must regret you. You can’t fault him for it. How could someone really love the monster you’ve become? “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Y/n I- it’s not the way you think.” You brush off his comment and skirt around his outstretched hand, not wanting to hear what Jimin has to say anymore. You’ve already reached your conclusion. If he doesn’t want you anymore and he’s too chicken to tell you, you’ll end it yourself.

Walking into your bedroom you slam the door to vent out some of your anger, but mostly to give you some release from the overarching sadness. Two years, two years about to end like they’re nothing. You hop into the shower so you can pretend your tears are droplets of water letting the warmth comfort you. If you close your eyes you can pretend the warmth is Jungkook, which only makes your heart break further. Your chest aches, slowly throbbing. It’s like you can physically feel it breaking, each piece dropping to your stomach and making you queasy. You stay in there even as the water runs cold and your skin forms goosebumps. It distracts you from the sudden emptiness you feel. Just how much of yourself did you give to Jungkook? When you step out the house is eerily quiet, seemingly void of all life. How ironic given how you feel. Flopping down onto your bed in just a towel you stare at the ceiling. You wish you were Blossom, hard-headed and apathetic. You wish you couldn’t feel anything, that nothing meant anything to you. That Jungkook meant nothing to you.

Your door opens and you jump, drawn out of your somber thoughts. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Only one person would bother coming in with this much nonchalance. “What’s up with you?” Jungkook says, closing your door and flopping down beside you. “I just finished training and thought I’d come up since the house is empty.”

“What are we doing Jungkook?”

“I mean I thought we were about to have sex but-“

“No I mean what are we doing? You clearly don’t love me like I love you and I’m just hurting myself, wishing for something I’ll never have. We should just end it here before I get hurt any further.” Your heart is pounding, eyes watering as you stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re doing this for the best you tell yourself. Jungkook is silent and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly like you can hide from the situation.

“You think I don’t love you? You think I don’t mean it when I say it.” He laughs but there’s no humor in his voice. Just malice as his hurt takes the form of anger. “You know I don’t just say that shit. I say I love you because I do. Because you-“ He pauses and you can’t help but turn your head to look at him as his voice wavers. Tears silently drip down his cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, only staring at the downturn of his lips.

“Because I what Kook?”

“Nevermind. It clearly doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“It does! I’d give my life for you Jungkook and it scares me that I feel this way about you but I don’t know if you’d do the same.” You’re both crying now, staring at each other with frowns on your faces.

“If you have to question it then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He murmurs, placing his hand on your cheek before finally making eye contact with you. You don’t know what to say, know what to do, so you kiss him. You kiss him with everything that you have and hope that the feelings you have for him are felt through it. His other hand finds your hip and pulls you up to straddle him.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur between the kisses you place along his neck. Both his hands are on your hips and your towel is held between your bodies which are tightly pressed together.

“I know. I’m sorry too. I-I’ll try harder, for you.” He gasps when you bite down on the junction between his shoulder and neck, his grip tightening. Your mouth finds his own again in thanks and you sigh against him as his tongue swipes on your lower lip. Jungkook and you have never been very good at voicing your feelings, much preferring the silent conversation of meaningful glances and physical touch. It’s easier this way, to be vulnerable.

“I love you.” You say, pulling back and hiding your face in his neck to catch your breath.

He nudges you with his nose to get you to look back up at him. “I love you too.” He whispers and for the first time it feels like a dagger; the realization that although he loves you, it’ll never never be enough to be with you, carving in deep.

“Get up bitch, we got trouble.” Jimin yells, storming into your room and waking up you and Jungkook. Groggily you sit up, still emotionally exhausted from your conversation with Jungkook and the stress from literally running for your life.

“Ever heard of privacy Park?” You ignore the way Jungkook scrambles away from you to continue the facade that the two of you are just friends, despite Jimin already knowing about you two.

“You really think you have privacy when this place is lined with cameras? I don’t even want to know how many tapes the two of you have probably made. Although maybe you like that sort of thing.” Jimin teases and both you and Jungkook flip him off.

“You’re disgusting. I can’t believe I used to share a bath with your nasty ass.”

“You wound me.” Jimin sighs dramatically before flopping down onto your bed. “Anyways, I just came here to tell you that two of your boys just got killed in a low-level trade so I’m assuming MKJ discovered that their little rats are dead.”

“Jimin they were still people, they had families.”

“Well they should’ve thought about their families before getting in this business. You know what your dad always said, it’s kill or be killed.”

“And exactly how did that work out for him?” You ask making Jimin fall quiet. It’s no secret that you and your father had a rocky relationship to say the least. He was the whole reason you were in this business anyways, as his only chid you were expected to take over his thrown. And it was no surprise that he died young, what with his life motto now being lived by Jimin. Sure killing others does save you at that moment, but it comes with an ever-growing list of enemies and a target on your back. So instead of getting a high school diploma at eighteen you got a gang.

“Anyways…what do you want to do?” Jimin asks.

“We’ll carry on business as usual. They’re planning something if all they did was jump two guys in retaliation to the death of their allies. So we’ll tighten our borders and distribute the new ammunition out to the different districts. Wire ten percent of the money we took to the corrupt officers to monitor MKJ territory for any activity. I want Taehyung monitoring their current known safe houses and we’ll have some of the upper ranks tap any cars in the area belonging to them. We’ll force them to show their hand.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too casual about this? The last time we had a gang war was when your dad…”

“Died? Yes Jungkook I do remember that.” You huff, rolling your eyes in irritation.

“I just think we should be more cautious because we lost the last one. We’ve been rebuilding ever since.” Jungkook says.

“Why do you think you have a say in this Jungkook? You had barely even been initiated at that point. I was the one who dealt with all this shit, I was the one who pulled us out of it.”

“You didn’t make me second in command for no reason. I get a say in what happens as much as you do!” Jungkook yells and you laugh.

“You really think you can tell me how to run my gang?” You say incredulously. “All you are is a pretty face Jeon.” You don’t mean it, you regret the words the moment they leave your mouth. But you’ve always been good at self-destruction.

“That’s all you think I am?” His words are loud but his demeanor is quiet, made little by your low blow. By your invalidation of all his hard work, of his sacrifice.

“I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this shit right now.” You say, walking away because it’s easier. It pains you to look at Jungkook right now. The hallway is silent as you walk towards the car and you pray to hear Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind you. You pause for a moment by the door and wait for Jungkook to catch up, to not let you leave alone and yet he doesn’t come. With a sigh you grab the keys off the hook and drive to the only other safe place you have.

When you were younger you weren’t allowed to leave the house alone, either your mother or one of your father’s men had to come with you. It’s understandable given that you were your father’s weakness, well supposed weakness anyways. Anyone close to your family however would’ve told them to not waste their energy taking you. The only time you ever saw your father was when he was telling you how much of a disappointment you were. And when it got too much, when you couldn’t shake the dark thoughts from your mind, you would sneak off to a small park a half-mile from your house and climb to the top of an old tree where you could pretend you were touching the clouds.

The tree is not as nice as you remember, but childlike innocence does make the world around you seem prettier than it is. Pulling yourself up you sit in the crook of the lowest branch and the trunk, afraid of any of the higher branches not being sturdy enough. Taking a deep breath you shiver at the slight chill to the air but your limbs relax anyways. You keep replaying your conversation with Jungkook in your head. You’re a horrible person, hurting the person you love. You don’t deserve him, all you do is hurt people. All you bring is pain.

“You stalking me?” A voice says from below you and you jump, having to grab onto the tree to prevent yourself from falling backwards. Hastily you blink away the tears in your eyes and laugh down at Yoongi.

“Ah yeah of course. I just can’t get enough of your tsundere vibes.”

Yoongi gives you a gummy smile before fake gagging, folding over in half while retching. “Ugh I can’t believe I’m friends with a weeb.”

“Alright prima donna, how did you know what it was if you aren’t one?” His silence makes you giggle and you find yourself forgetting about your argument with Jungkook. Being with Yoongi is nice, it’s easy. It feels normal, something that you’ve wanted your whole life. Barking sounds from across the field and you and Yoongi both watch as a brown ball of fluff comes charging towards you both. Crouching down, Yoongi opens his arms for the small creature to jump into them, the force enough to send them both into the grass. Yoongi giggles as the little dog squirms in his arms and you feel your heart melt a little at the wholesome scene.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. You’ve just never bothered to ask.”

“What’s its name?”

“Holly.” Yoongi says with a soft look on his face, standing up with Holly in his arms to bring the animal closer to you. Tentatively you stick your hand out to the small dog, squirming when it begins to avidly lick your hand. “Ahh look at that he likes you.”

“I mean of course he does. I’m great, how could he not?”

“Real humble too.” Yoongi remarks, but the sarcasm is foiled by the corner of his lips curling upwards. His noticeably pink and soft-looking lips. Wait what? Before Yoongi can notice your staring you turn your attention back to the dog. “So what are you doing out here..In a tree?”

“Just needed some place to think is all.” You shrug.

“You should think less, it’s way more fun.”

“If I stop thinking I’ll die.” You say because truly if you take a moment to breathe someone probably will have a knife to your throat. You always need to be one step ahead.

“That’s a little morbid.” Yoongi says and you laugh it off.

“Yeah I’m just overdramatic.”

‘You know, I picked up on that.”

“Oh really?” You ask.

“Yeah and despite that I still like you.” Yoongi says, setting Holly down to walk closer to you.

“That so?” You ask coyly, raising a brow. He hums in response, stopping when he’s finally standing between your legs. You should really back away, tell him you’re with Jungkook. Except you’re not, you have no obligation to Jungkook. You’re not his girlfriend and you never will be. And it's with that notion that you lean down and kiss Yoongi. His lips are just as soft as you imagined, tinged with a faint rose flavor which is ironic given his profession.

Ever since you and Yoongi kissed you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Despite his callous persona he’s actually quite sweet, texting you multiple times a day to see how you’re going and how your day is. The only problem is that you can’t exactly tell Yoongi what you do and how your actual day is because really who would want to date someone who killed someone when they were just eight years old. Granted it was only because your father forced your hand: either you killed the mysterious man or he killed your mother. But regardless, if given the choice you wouldn’t even want to be you so why would anyone want to date you? So instead you told him that you’re the CEO of a small business which is true. Your business is just illegal and you have a different title although you’re still the head.

“He texts you all the fucking time. Does he not have a job?” Jungkook huffs as your phone chimes with yet another text from Yoongi. You never told Jungkook about that day at the park with Yoongi given your already rocky relationship, but it felt too dishonest to pretend Yoongi is someone else. Jungkook is still less than happy with Yoongi texting you despite your insistence that you’re just friends. Though, can friends really kiss and still be just friends? The thought of kissing him makes your stomach erupt in butterflies and you can’t stop yourself from grinning.

“He does have a job. He was just checking in.”

“He’s always just checking in.” Jungkook says before rolling his eyes and moving to grab his stuff from your room.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to be here while you text him with that big ass smile on your face.”

“I don’t see why you’re so upset. Can I not have a friend Jungkook?”

“Yeah, you’re friends.” Jungkook scoffs and you furrow your brows.

“What are you saying Jungkook?”

“Don’t you think he texts you a little too often to just be friendly. He’s clearly just trying to get in your pants.”

“Jungkook there’s no need to be jealous.” You huff growing frustrated.

“I think you should find a new florist.”

“Jungkook you can’t control me. Yoongi is my friend and as your-“ you pause, the word girlfriend sitting on your tongue before you stop yourself. “You don’t get to decide who I get to hang out with.” You huff and Jungkook pokes his tongue into his cheek, fingers gripping your bedroom door handle tightly. He clenches his hands a few times and you huff. Since when did things with Jungkook get so hard?

“So you’re just going to hang out with him despite knowing he just wants to fuck you?” Jungkook spits out, teeth clenched tightly together.

“I don’t know anything Jungkook. Is it really so hard to believe someone could just like me enough to want to be my friend?” Your voice falls off at the end and Jungkook turns to you, sharp eyes rounding a little when he notices how small you’ve become.

“I-I just think he wants more.” He says softly, reaching over carefully to take your hand in his own like he’s scared you’ll pull away. As if for extra measure he places your conjoined hands in his lap and soothingly rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. You suppose this is his way of saying he’s sorry.

“I just want a friend.” You murmur, looking out of the window to avoid him.

“You have me.” The both of you fall into a heavy silence, ‘am I not enough’ hangs limply between you.

Hours later you finally make it out of your room and head downstairs to find Taehyung. Unsurprisingly he’s got a whole spread next to him, any snack you could think of within arms reach. Grabbing the bowl of fruit you begin munching on them while Taehyung prepares his update for you. “Just because you’re a criminal does not mean you have to be a thief.” He scolds, taking the bowl away from you and cradling it to his chest.

“Why do none of you remember that I’m your boss?” You whine and Taehyung only smiles.

“Because we get to see the actual Y/n who’s really a sweetheart despite her situation. Don’t get me wrong though, I definitely am still afraid of you because I know you could kill me at a moment’s notice. Anyways, before we get into business how has my little ninja been?”

“Taehyung I use knives not throwing stars.”

“Same thing.” He shrugs.

“And fine I guess. Things with Jungkook have been rough but when haven’t they?” You say with a pathetic chuckle.

“He’ll come around. You know how he’s been struggling with his brother.”

“He’s been struggling ever since he first came here! That was three years ago Taehyung, how much longer should I have to wait?”

“It’s not just that. He had me search for his brother last week to send him a birthday card and there’s no record of him for the past six months.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, it’s like the guy just vanished.”

“So he’s either dead or doesn’t want to be found.” You say.

“Someone really knew what they were doing when they cleared him too, I can’t even find a trace.”

“Isn’t Jungkook’s scar from him and his brother fighting over the computer?” You ask, despite knowing the answer.

“Yeah but I don’t really see the relevance.”

“I mean that they’re both computer nerds. So his brother could’ve done that himself and the question is if he did, why? And why didn’t he tell Jungkook?”

With the news of Jungkook’s brother’s suspicious disappearance you’re more on edge than normal. You have a feeling Jungkook’s brother is not as innocent as Jungkook chooses to see him. After all, the whole reason Jungkook is in your gang is because he took on his brother’s debt and joined in his place. Taehyung also said that the safe houses are oddly quiet and so is the server that Taehyung managed to hack into. No one is talking. Which can only mean that they know someone is listening. Therefore, all your high ranking members are on house arrest much to their dismay. “I can’t believe you’re making me stay home for the next week.” Jimin whines, sprawled across the kitchen island as if it’s a sofa. They do say hoes like high places.

“Think of it like a staycation. It’s a much needed break.”

“We’re sitting ducks at this point. MKJ might as well ambush us now and get it over with.” Jungkook says and you slap his bicep in protest.

“I’d like to keep the morale high you guys.”

“I don’t know why you two are complaining. Being home is nice.” Taehyung says and you send him a finger heart in appreciation.

“That’s because you haven’t left the house in five years.” Jimin teases and you can’t help but laugh. Taehyung truly is always home.

“I have everything I could possibly need and want here. Plus I’m the only one who has clean hands if we get arrested.”

“Technically you’re an accomplice.” You say and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Technically I can just erase all data of me in the system, replace it with Jimin’s information and if they find my fingerprints say that I was kidnapped and held in the computer room.”

“Wait why do I get to take the fall for you?”

“We all know you’d charm your way out of jail. Kook and Y/n not so much.”

“Hey I can be charming!” You say and all the boys just laugh in response.

“No one in the city would ever go for you given that you’re blossom.” Jimin says and you only scowl. Is it really so hard to believe?

“Yoongi would.” You say and your eyes widen when you realize your mistake. Jungkook just rolls his eyes in irritation.

“Yoongi would hit it and quit it.” Jungkook says callously and you can feel your anger spark. Why is Jungkook acting like a dick all of a sudden?

“Yeah because friends with benefits is so much better.” You scoff and Jungkook just scowls.

“At least I’m willing to come back.”

“Oh you’re willing? Wow I’m honored. Thank you for finding it in you to be so charitable.”

“Y/n I didn’t mean it like that.” He starts and you just roll your eyes.

“Save it Jeon, I don’t feel like hearing your bullshit any longer.” Angrily you stomp over to the garage, Jungkook hot on your heels.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s none of your concern Jungkook. You can stop fake caring now and go call Jennie for a quick fuck.”

“That was one time! I told you it was a mistake and we weren’t even dating!” Jungkook yells before skidding to a stop as you whip around to face him, your noses almost touching.

“You’re right Jungkook, we’re not dating. So you can sleep with whoever you want and I’ll do the same.” You’re half turned and ready to head out when Jungkook pulls you back, pulling you flush into him.

“I don’t want to do that though.” He whispers like he can no longer find his voice.

“Then what do you want Kook? Because I can’t keep sitting around and waiting for you to love me. I’m tired of hiding, I’m tired of wishing I was someone else so you could proudly say you love me. I don’t know what you want me to do because as much as you hate who I am I hate myself too. So what do you want me to do Kook because as much as I wish I was someone else I can’t change who I am.”

“I-I” Jungkook starts but his face keeps twisting as he struggles to find his words. In his struggle you find the answer.

When you get to Yoongi’s flower shop you’re still upset over Jungkook, so much so that not even the sweet aroma of the roses by the door can make the corner of your lips twitch upwards. You’re not quite sure why you actually came here but when you see Yoongi round the corner looking a little disgruntled about a customer at eight in the morning you can’t help but feel a little weight fall off your shoulder. Something about him just makes you relax, like he understands. He just has a comforting aura that you find yourself drawn to. When he looks up and spots you his mouth quirks upwards for a moment before it draws back down into an indifferent expression. “You haven’t stopped by in a while.” He says gruffly, more of a statement than a question. You frown and take a few steps forward, fingers tracing lily petals softly.

“I’ve just been really busy.” You weakly smile.

“Are you okay?” You turn your head quickly to find Yoongi standing directly in front of you, a look of worry on his face. When you close your eyes to blink you can see the same expression etched onto Jungkook’s face from last night. You’re such a burden, already weighing down on the mind of a practical stranger.

“I’m fine.” You say, once more steeling yourself. You’re strong, you don’t need someone to take care of you.

“You’re pretty easy to read you know? You weren’t even facing me directly and I could tell you were upset. Your eyebrows are so close together you basically have a monobrow.” He quips, indenting the space between your brows with the tip of his finger. You let out a small chirp and slap his finger away.

“I was just thinking.” You mumble and Yoongi smirks.

“Shocking, didn’t know you had a brain in there.” When you glare at him unamused it’s his turn to laugh, his lips curling upwards to reveal a gummy smile.

“But yeah, no need to worry about me.” You shrug and Yoongi smiles so wide his bottom teeth peek out. His eyes have a mischievous glint in them and you’re sure you’re gonna hate what is about to come out of his mouth.

“Oh I wasn’t. Your mood is just so sour it’s causing my flowers to wilt. You’re supposed to give them ten nice words a day you know.” He teases, already turning around to run behind the safety of the counter before you can smack his arm.

“Yoongi! How dare you!” You scold but your laughter slips through, causing your voice to go up an octave. “You suck.” You pout, following him to the counter and hopping up to sit down on it.

“Sure, make yourself comfortable.”

“I will.” You smile to which he only rolls his eyes. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you can’t recall the last time you just sat in a happy silence. Where it wasn’t weighed down by unspoken words or fear of what’s to come. When you could simply just be. It feels nice. Being with Yoongi feels nice. “I like hanging out with you.” You say suddenly and Yoongi jumps at the sound of your voice.

“Mmm I guess you’re tolerable.” He hums and you sigh.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me for one second?” You whine and you swear Yoongi snickers like the sound of you whining gives him immense joy.

“Fine. I too enjoy you loitering in my shop and not buying anything despite this being a place of business.”

“Why do I even bother?” You groan to yourself, ignoring the sound of Yoongi’s approaching footsteps. Instead you focus on the swing of your legs, reminding you of when you were younger and used to sit on the kitchen counter when your mother cooked. What a long time ago that was. Like he can tell you’re getting lost in your thoughts Yoongi clears his throat and you look up to see his nose scrunched in distaste while his arms are outstretched. You stare at him questioningly, eyes trailing down his figure and arms. You notice a faint tattoo peeking out from below his watch and your eyes fixate on it. The watch is almost the exact width of the tattoo like he’s trying to hide it. What just is he trying to hide?

“Okay weirdo, hug me now before the offer is off the table. You’ve been giving me ‘please hug me’ vibes ever since you walked in.”

“You can just admit you wanted a hug you know?” You tease, hopping off the counter to wrap your arms around his middle. His body is slim and you can easily wrap both arms around him but surprisingly it’s firm against your own, contrasting the soft plushness of his sweater. He smells like a meadow from working with all the flowers but the smell of something warm like whiskey or bourbon lingers as your head is tucked into his chest.

Perhaps you should think more things through. Perhaps you should pay more attention to the world around you since you’re at the top of plenty of hitlists. Perhaps you should stop being so reliant on Jungkook as you are now being chased through the city by who you only assume are some low level members of MKJ. The tires screech as you round a sharp corner and the car drifts into the opposing lane and you close your eyes tightly waiting for the inevitable crash yet somehow you are miraculously spared. Taking a deep breath you watch the car from the side view mirror behind you, trying to formulate a plan.You’re driving too fast to jump out safely and the drivers are clearly too experienced for you to shake them off in this dangerous game of mario kart. Unbuckling yourself you pull the knives from the waistband of your mini skirt and roll down the window.

Grabbing onto the handle above the window you glance out the windshield and calculate how many seconds you have to pop out the window and aim for the tires of the vehicle before you get your head blown off as you round the car to the left. The tires screech and the sound pierces your ears but your focus can’t be shaken as you aim for the two left side tires that come into view before ducking inside the body of the car as gun shots bounce off the vehicle. Hastily you scramble back inside and roll up the window, glancing behind the car to find one of your knives dug into the front tire. It pushes farther in as the tire continues to roll but you sigh in relief as the vehicle begins to slow down. That is until one of your own tires gets shot and the car starts bouncing as it rides the rim. “Shit!” You scream, the car already beginning to teeter to the side and you slam into your door, letting out a groan.

Today is really the day. Glancing out the window you can see the sidewalk clearly as the car begins its descent, the only thing you can hear over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears is the haunting dial tone of your phone. In your panic you just wanted to tell him one last time despite the argument that just occurred. The car finally slams against the pavement and begins to roll. Instinctively your body tenses, hand clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline. You hit your head against the broken windshield making your head throb. You can feel yourself beginning to slip out of consciousness and as your eyes begin to flutter, your eyes rolling back as you lose awareness, you can hear the faint sound of the dial tone. Jungkook never picks up.

When you wake up your hands are tied behind your back and you sigh, though it fails to escape with the gag placed in your mouth. With a bored expression you look around the room to try and figure out where exactly you are. In your line of business you know plenty of spots where shady shit can go down under the radar. The walls around you are comprised of brick, pieces of it falling as the building is beginning to crumble. The ceiling is stained various colors, likely from water damage and miscellaneous fluids. If you stare hard enough you’re pretty sure you can make out speckles of blood. Large poles are staggered around the room and you realize then that you’re in an abandoned fire house. You haven’t heard of any abandoned fire stations in the area so they must’ve taken you far out of the city. You should expect as much, it buys them more time as Jungkook and the others have to search longer to find you.

Frustrated you throw your head back in anguish and wince when your head smacks into the pole you’re tied to. Turning your wrists outwards, you free up your fingers and try tugging at the ends of the rope binding your hands together. Tugging a few times the rope refuses to give and you huff, sucking the inside of your cheek as you think of your next plan. Pulling your legs to your chest you wait in anticipation to feel the dig of the point of the knife tucked into your waist band into your thigh but the prick never comes. Damn, they took your knives too. You’ll have to commend them for being smart: checking for weapons. They’re a little less smart for not binding your legs and by giving you the ability to stand also giving you the ability to fight. Sometimes being a woman and constantly underestimated has its perks.

Boisterous laughter sounds from above you and suddenly two figures descend from above via the poles. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” The man laughs and you roll your eyes. Amateurs. You retract your previous statement of them being intelligent.

“You’re stupid.” The second man says and you nod in agreement. He spins on his heel to face you and smiles crookedly at you. His eyes gleam sickeningly and ruin his handsome face, the heart shaped smile now sinister and ironic. It’s clear no compassion is left in this man. “Oh Blossom, how I’ve longed to see you in person.” Walking forward his steps make no noise, his movements graceful like a dancer but as deadly as the twelve gauge he spins lazily between his fingers. For a fleeting moment you wonder if this is how your victims felt before they died, if this is how you looked to them. The thought makes you sick. You truly are a monster. “I even came in person to see you, sweetheart. You’re quite a hard woman to find you know. Such a shame you rarely leave home.” He stops in front of you to caress the side of your face and you retract your leg to kick him in the knee only to widen your eyes in surprise when he catches your ankle before you can even graze him.

“You don’t think I got to be head of operations just because of my handsome face right sweetheart? No baby, I got it through killing anyone that came in my way. Ruthlessly, viciously, tortuously. And it really would make my day to see you beg.” With a hand on your shoulder he roughly pushes you down so you fall on your knees, once again taking to caressing your cheek. “Now beg.” He growls, ripping the gag down your chin and pressing the barrel to the center of your forehead.

“Fuck you.”

“Ahh I know sweetheart, everyone wants to. A shame you have to be my enemy though, we’d have a good time together.”

“You’re disgusting.” You snarl and turn your head away from him. The hand on your cheek moves to grip your chin so roughly you’re sure a bruise is going to form.

“You’re really going to give me such disrespect when your life is on the line? You’re already on your knees so be a good girl like the little bitch you are.” His eyes burn with fury, the rage taking over his whole body as his brown eyes take on a more red hue in the streak of light coming from a hole in the wall. When you stare blankly at him he reaches his arm back and smacks the heel of the gun into the side of your cheek. You can feel the blood forming inside your mouth and you spit it onto his shoes making him scream in frustration. You fix him with your own crooked grin, fully letting your Blossom persona take form.

“You really think this is scaring me? I’ve been kidnapped before sweetheart. This isn’t anything special.” You look him dead in the eyes and raise your eyebrows in challenge. He clicks off the safety and you give a bored sigh, hiding the racing of your heart.

“Hoseok you can’t kill her. We can’t exploit her gang if she’s dead.”

“You’re right.” Hoseok sighs sadly and you give him a sarcastic smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t torture her though.” Before you can think he shoots you in the thigh, causing you to cry out in pain and drop to the floor, tears welling in your eyes from the pain.

“Look at you, tied up and weak. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing without Jungkook by your side. You know that right? You can’t even-” Hoseok says laughing mercilessly.

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence.” Jungkook’s voice rings through the empty warehouse and your blood goes cold. It’s so low, practically a growl.

“Ahh I see your bodyguard has joined the party.” Hoseok claps excitedly, turning around only to be shot in the chest. He drops down in front of you and gives you a deranged smile. “I live for this shit.” His colleague falls as Jungkook shoots him as well but Hoseok pays him no mind. Instead, he smiles brightly at you as you look down at him, pressing a hand to his chest before placing it on your shirt, leaving a bloody hand print. “You’re next. See you in hell.” He giggles before his breath starts to weaken and his eyes lose their light. Jungkook is before you in an instant, hands coming to either side of your face to get you to look at him. Your eyes are still glassy making him blurry but he’s still so warm. And you let yourself bask in his warmth, pushing your head into his chest to sob as the memories come back to you.

On your seventh birthday you were abducted by two strange men. They lured you away from your mother, seeking aid to help another child in pain. Like the naive girl you were you were eager to help, following them to the other end of the park where you were stuffed into the trunk of a car. Your screams for your mother to save you had gone unheard and you wound up tied to a plastic chair and abandoned in the middle of an old warehouse. There you stayed for two days, praying for your parents to come rescue you except they never arrived. Instead two teenagers found you slumped into the chair, severely dehydrated and hungry, carrying you to the nearest hospital where you were finally reunited with your parents. You thought they’d be happy to see you, that their eyes would too be filled with tears of relief from being reunited. How foolish of you to think that your parents would care. Instead, as soon as you were discharged you were scolded, called numerous names synonymous with useless by your father. You were a failure, accepting help and not getting yourself out of there. You should know by now that no one will offer you help.

Two years later and you find yourself once again bound, your wrists raw and bloody from trying to get out of the harsh ties. The men only laugh sardonically as they carve into your arms and back, amused by your cries. They tortured you until you were half-conscious, finally succeeding in getting you to give information about your father. There you were once again left and using the bloodied knife they left behind you untied yourself and found your way home. You thought you’d make him proud; after all, you had done it without help. You saved yourself. Yet it didn’t matter because in saving yourself you sacrificed your father. Again you were reminded of what a failure you were, how he wished you’d have never been born. You were unlovable at best.

At thirteen you were taken at least three towns over, dropped off in the middle of the woods with your hands bound and your eyes covered by a blindfold. You spent the whole day just trying to get the stupid blindfold off so you could see what was around you before you got attacked by whatever was lurking in the forest. After nearly slicing yourself with a sharp rock you managed to cut the rope around your hands and spent the next week foraging in the woods and trying to find some sort of civilization to get your bearings. It took you two weeks to get home by foot, unaccepting of the pitied handouts and offerings to pay for you a bus ticket as you walked the whole way. Surely this time your father would be proud even if the kidnappers did nothing other than blindfold and bind you. It was an odd practice but you didn’t want to spare it a second thought, rubbing your arms as you recalled your worst kidnapping experience. Except as you rounded the corner to your father’s office you saw the two men who had taken you in the first place. Frozen in fear you could only stare as they stood before your father as he sat in his chair. Patiently you waited for him to punish them for taking you except much to your confusion he only smiled and paid them money. It’s like he’s rewarding them for taking you, for putting you through hell for the last two weeks. Unable to stop yourself you barged inside, wanting answers to your questions.

“Did you hire them to kidnap me?” You scream, overtaken by anger.

“Of course not my dear, I was paying them to bring you back however it seems you managed just fine on your own. I’m proud of you.” He smiles. Placated by finally earning your father’s love you only hugged him before walking off, making sure to fix the two kidnappers with your worst stare. It was only later at the “office” party did you discover your initial theory was correct as they were promoted to a higher ranking. Your hands trembled and eyes began to water as you realized that the one man who you’re supposed to trust lied directly to your face. Maybe he even hired the other people to kidnap you too. Now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you, more than terrified of the man you’re supposed to call your father. God, you hate liars.

Jungkook calling your name breaks you out of your reverie and you sniffle, unaware that you had begun to shake. Jungkook pulls you farther into him, the seatbelt straining as you push against it. “It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. No one will hurt you when I’m here, I promise.” Despite the harsh words you said to him, he still forgave you and is taking care of you. You don’t deserve him.

“Are you okay?” You hold him by each bicep to ensure he can’t move as you assess his form looking for any sign of injury.

“You were just bound, shot, and kidnapped but you’re worried about me?” Jungkook laughs and you roll your eyes.

“This happens to me all the time remember?”

“Are you okay though? You just started shaking out of nowhere. Were you reliving your nightmares again?” Jungkook whispers into your ear, so low that you can barely make it out even though he’s right next to you.

Nodding, tears prickle at your eyes again and Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your head before stroking your hair, understanding that silent comfort is what you need at the moment.

It is safe to say that you have not left the house since you were kidnapped. Not only have you been coping with the trauma from your childhood but you’ve been struggling with recovering from a car accident and being shot. But most of all you’re lonely. Jungkook has barely been home, he’s set on revenge, determined to kill all of MKJ for what they did. In a way it’s heartwarming but you know that with each person he kills he dies a little inside. Your stomach churns with guilt and you decide that you need a distraction. Despite your promise to Jungkook to stay home where you’re safe- well as safe as you can get with a target always on your head- you grab the car keys and make your way to the flower shop.

When you pull into a spot your hands shake a little as your anxiety heightens and you nervously fiddle with the necklace Jungkook gave you for your birthday last year. Checking the street several times before you exit the car, you basically sprint- more like quickly hobble as your thigh still burns from being used- into the shop, wanting to be visible on the street for as little time as possible. You run into an unsuspecting Yoongi, not anticipating he’d be anywhere near the entry. He groans underneath you, the both of you sprawled across the floor. “Sorry!” You squeak and scramble off of him, while he mock glares at you and holds onto his lower back.

“Give me a warning next time will you? You’re heavy.”

“Thanks.” You deadpan, wholly unimpressed.

“Anytime.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Hey you’ve been gone for a while. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You tug again at the necklace and Yoongi’s eyes dart to the action. Cocking his head, he opens his mouth like he’s going to question you further but refrains.

“Well it’s good to see you anyways. If you need to talk about anything I’m here for you.” He places his hand on your elbow, tilting his head to look you in the eyes.

“Thank you Yoongi, I appreciate it.” The air between the two of you stills and you can’t find it in yourself to break the eye contact. It’s so comforting and safe, something you’ve been needing the past couple of weeks. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the way you’ve closed the gap between you until you can feel the soft puffs of his breath against your face. Yet despite the danger signs flashing through your head you can only flutter your eyes shut when Yoongi presses his lips to your own.

His lips are softer than you’re accustomed to, used to Jungkook’s slightly chapped ones- he constantly licks his lips as a nervous tick- and you can’t help but lean into Yoongi. Everything about him is just warm and soft: from his quiet, caring demeanor to his sweaters to his blonde hair that’s now laced between your fingers. Speaking of which, you give the strands a slight tug and he groans into your mouth, squeezing your hips in warning. You don’t take heed of it though and swipe your tongue across the seam of his lips. He immediately allows you entry and you only have control for a few seconds before he takes the lead, walking you backwards until your back hits the counter. You release his hair to move your fingers across his broad shoulders and down his slim waist, pulling him harder against you until the counter is digging uncomfortably in your back. He groans again when you roll your hips against his own before pulling away, hands on your hips to keep you in place as he separates. “I-I think we should take this slow.” He pants and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What?”

“I- I really like you and I want to do this the right way. I want to at least take you on a date first.” His cheeks redden and you giggle at his sudden shyness.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You ask me on a date and then are surprised I say yes?” You tease and Yoongi just rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Shut up. Anyways, how about I close the shop up early and we go somewhere?”

“Sounds good.” You nod in affirmation.

When you get home hours later after a few more intense make out sessions with Yoongi, you don’t expect the way Jungkook is angrily seated on the edge of your bed, his arms crossed against his chest making his biceps swell. You’d laugh from the way he’s sitting, the perfect image of a parent catching their child after sneaking past curfew, if not for the way his eyes are looking at you. They’re icy, enough so that you visibly shiver unused to this look from him. Normally he gazes at you warmly and you’re not quite sure how to take this.

“You left.” He says monotonously, his voice edged with annoyance.

“I did. The wound has nearly healed over and I didn’t put a lot of strain on it. I’m a grown woman Jungkook, I don’t need to be under house arrest.”

“You were shot!” He yells, standing up and pulling on the strands of his hair. The frustration pours over, taking over his whole body as he begins pacing in front of you.

“I’ve been shot before.” You shrug which only pisses him off even more.

“That doesn’t matter. Hoseok was going to kill you and you’re acting like it was nothing. I almost watched you die! Don’t you understand?” He screams, chest beginning to heave as he stares at you with watery eyes.

“But I’m alive. Jungkook I’m okay.” You try and console, slowly moving towards him as if he’s a wounded animal. In a way he is.

“But I’m not!” You fall silent, hands falling to your sides as he begins to cry. You don’t know what to do, the only thing you can do is watch as he breaks down before you. Despite your previous situations, Jungkook has never let you see him break down, usually hiding it through sex or crying in the crook of your neck. This is uncharted territory and you don’t know how to navigate this situation. All you can think about is that you’re selfish. That you brought him this pain.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter. “This is all my fault.”

“You’re so selfish! Did you even think about me before you left?” He says and you only shake your head, eyes tearing up.

“I just wanted someone to talk to.” You murmur and Jungkook only stills, turning on his heel to face you.

“You went to see him didn’t you?” He says quietly, like if he says it any louder it’ll hurt. You can only nod.

“So while I’m on the streets fighting for you, almost dying just to protect your ass, you’re out with another guy.” He takes a few steps closer, inching you against the wall to take your chin between his fingers and maneuver your face around. “You even smell like his cologne.” He laughs dryly, placing a thumb on your bottom lip to pull it slightly. “And your lips are swollen. But just friends right?” He laughs again, unable to stop a tear from slipping down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Your heart is breaking, you can feel it chipping piece by piece as more tears run down his face. You wish you could wipe them away but you’re frozen in place.

“Do you not love me anymore?” He whispers and just the thought makes your own tears spill over. You love Jungkook more than life. If it was between you and him, you would take the bullet for him in a second. Jungkook deserves a better life, one far away from you. Thankfully you’ve always been good at self destruction.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, overcome by the emotions flowing through you. You’re doing this for his own good, you’re doing this for his own good. It takes everything in you not to take it back when you can see his heart drop, when you can hear the shaky breath he inhales. You feel like you can’t breathe when he takes a step back, his eyes hardening the longer he stares until they’re filled with anger and hatred. You’re doing this for his own good. Only when the door slams shut and you’re left alone in your room do you collapse to the ground, shaking as you sob violently, biting down on your hand to quiet them.

Eventually the pain grows too much and like the coward you are you can’t face it alone. Unable to go to Jungkook for help you go to the only other person you can think of that offers you comfort and safety. When you get to Yoongi’s shop, only the light in the back is still on and you pray that Yoongi is here rather than that he forgot to turn off the light. Knocking almost frantically on the door you hope Yoongi will come and give you a piece of salvation, a moment to forget that you just broke the love of your life’s heart. It appears that pity is on your side as you see Yoongi round the corner from the back office begrudgingly and you can’t help your eyes from tearing up. When Yoongi notices you his eyes widen greatly as he takes in your tear-stained face, jogging towards the door and fumbling with the lock. When the door finally opens you push into his arms, thankfully he’s prepared for you this time, and bury your face in his neck. You sob harder as you remember Jungkook used to do this to you when he was upset, the memory of his broken face resurfacing.

“I got you.” Yoongi shushes you quietly, rubbing one hand up and down your back while the other clutches the back of your head. Your body shakes as you continue to punish yourself, replaying your last moments with Jungkook. You feel even worse running back to Yoongi afterwards, the person who made Jungkook question your love for him. Yet here you are wrapped in his arms, being comforted by him because you can no longer have Jungkook. “What happened?” Yoongi asks when you finally quiet down, pulling away enough to look you in the eyes while stroking your cheekbones.

“I just broke my best friend’s heart.” You say brokenly, a sob threatening to resurface as your lip begins to quiver again.

“Yeah unrequited love is a bitch, but you can’t help the way you feel. If you don’t love them back you can’t feel bad about it and it’s unfair to both of you to try and force yourself to love them.” Yoongi says softly, still stroking your cheeks. Little did he know that you broke Jungkook’s heart out of love.

“Yeah. I just don’t want to go home right now.”

“You can stay with me for a few days if you want? I have a spare toothbrush and some clothes that should fit you. Only if you want to of course.” His ears tint pink as he rubs the back of his neck nervously, his sleeve pulling up to reveal his tattoo. Interlude.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” It’s your turn to be awkward as you fiddle again with the necklace Jungkook gave you wrapped around your neck. You should probably take it off but it’s the only piece of him you have left right now. Yoongi leads you upstairs with a smile and you can’t help your wondering eyes as you take in the hidden loft upstairs. The scent of flowers wafts up from the shop below and you can’t help the corner of your mouth from quirking up.

The furniture is a muted brown and when paired with the sweet aroma of budding flowers you can’t help but feel calm. Yoongi fumbles with his things, frantically picking up clothes strewn across the floor and murmuring apologies about the mess but you pay him no mind as you continue to look around. It seems that Yoongi only has the bare necessities in his apartment: a bed, a night stand, and a small dining table with two chairs. Your eyes linger on the walls for any decorations and yet there’s none. Glancing at his nightstand table you see a small polaroid tucked into a frame but before you can walk any closer Yoongi hurries you into the small kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I can cook you something.” He offers and you nod. Despite your lack of appetite you know you should eat. Rifling through his cupboards he only finds two packs of instant ramen and gives a small chuckle. “Not exactly the first meal I thought I’d make you but this will have to do.” He mumbles to himself and you can’t help the small smile on your face. How sweet.

“You’ve thought about cooking food for me?” You tease and his ears tint pink again as he rubs against the back of his neck.

“Maybe. I’ve thought about a lot of things with you.” It’s your turn to get shy by his sudden boldness and you only laugh.

“That so?” You ask as he pours water in the cups from the kettle and lets them sit as he moves to corner you against the corner. He hums in response, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Like what?” You press.

“Like what waking up next to you would be like or holding your hand.” One of his hands drops to intertwine with your own and you can only grin. Things with Yoongi are so easy, it’s the type of relationship you’ve always dreamed of. Perhaps that’s why you relish his words and urge him to continue, the ache caused by Jungkook dulled. “I wonder if you’d like my favorite places too. I wonder about starting a new life with you.”

“You sure about that?” You tease, unsure about how to react to his sentiments. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear and you’re swooning from that but something still feels missing, incomplete.

“Been sure about it since the moment I met you. What you’ve gone through, who you are despite your circumstances is inspiring. When I look at you I want to be better.” You pause for a minute confused but don’t have much time to consider his words before Yoongi presses his lips onto yours, the hand on your cheek moving to entangle itself in your hair. He forces your mouth open with a small tug to your hair, his tongue slipping to brush your own as you part your lips to gasp. He wastes no time in claiming dominance, the hand not in your hair reaching behind you to grab your ass. You jump at the sudden squeeze and Yoongi smirks against your mouth, a hand coming down to grab your other thigh and urge you to jump. With your legs now encircling his waist Yoongi carries you to the bed with a surprising ease and you welcome the new distraction.

You awake to the smell of bacon and coffee, rousing from your deep slumber to come face to face with Yoongi. He smiles shyly at you as he sets the coffee and plate of breakfast down next to you on the bed, blushing a little as the covers slip down and reveal your nude torso. Quietly he hands you his shirt that was thrown on the ground in your haste last night and you slip it on before taking a sip of coffee. “Breakfast in bed after our first time together? You’re really setting the bar high Yoongi.” You tease but are appreciative all the same.

“Good. You deserve to be spoiled. You can think of this as a makeshift first date since I broke my promise.”

“You’re too sweet to me. I don’t deserve it.” Like he can sense your self-hatred Yoongi comes to crouch in front of you, meeting your downward gaze. Taking both of your hands into his, he smiles softly at you.

“You’re a good person y/n. You deserve all the love and kindness in the world.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew my past.”

“Our past does not define us. I’ve done some really shitty things in my past, I’ve hurt many people. But the important thing is that I grew and I’m not the same person anymore. And while you may have also done shitty things in your past, I promise you underneath all of that lies a good person, the person that I see.” Your eyes water and you sniffle, turning away to hide your tears. “Hey, hey it’s okay to cry. Crying does not make you weak.” Yoongi coos, gently placing his fingers around your chin to turn you back to face him. Somehow he knows all the words you need to hear. It’s almost like he already knows everything about you.

You can only smile weakly at him, despite his words you can’t help but feel pathetic. “Now eat up before the food gets cold. Don’t want my money to get put to waste.” You laugh a little and he only grins, stealing a piece of bacon from your plate.

“Hey!” You call but he doesn’t pay you any mind as he goes to fix his own plate. When Yoongi settles down beside you the both of you fall into a comfortable silence and you chuckle. How domestic, you muse to yourself.

The day passes quietly as you help Yoongi, your phone untouched all day. It was nice to hang around the shop and tend to the flowers, you felt calmer than you have in a long time. Only a few customers visit the shop and you spend the majority of the time getting to know Yoongi better. Before he became a florist he used to work in computer information systems but wanted to change to a slow paced career. He also is new to the area, having only moved into town six months ago. He had a soft spot for cats and music, hoping one day to be able to have a house with a grand piano.

“You’re an interesting man Yoongi.” You laugh when he finishes reciting the story about how he once played the recorder with his nose. “Speaking of which you never gave me your last name. What am I supposed to call you when I get mad at you?” You tease, missing the way Yoongi stiffens for a moment.

“Min. Now do you want to go out to dinner and get something to eat? I think you deserve a real date.” Looking down at your clothes- one of Yoongi’s hoodies and a pair of sweats- you frown.

“I’m not exactly dressed for a date.” You say gesturing to the sweats.

“I think you look hot. I was thinking sushi?”

“I guess.” You say, following him out the door as he locks up shop. Hands intertwined you meander down to a sushi place a few blocks down and out of habit you check behind you to make sure no one is following. You relax when you notice it’s just a random guy in a hoodie and hat, turning your attention back to Yoongi as he rambles about the new order of flowers he’s getting.

Inside the restaurant isn’t very packed, quite empty for a monday night. You like the fact that less people are there though because it allows you to have an eye on every person in the room, on the off chance that a threat does come in. Surveying the room you notice that the guy with the black jacket and hat has also come in but the hat is a little too low for you to see his face. Odd. You push him to the back of your mind however when Yoongi grabs your hand from across the table and smiles gently at you. When the waiter comes he addresses the two of you as a couple and you can only look away shyly, not really having pictured yourself in a relationship with Yoongi. The thought makes you warm though as you realize every day could be like today. So calm and relaxing, so simple. You breathe a little easier at the thought.

“I can’t believe you ate 3 rolls on your own.” Yoongi says, mouth wide open as you finish your last bite. What can you say? The sushi was good and you haven’t got to eat out in months as tensions with MKJ have been so thick. You can say you’re enjoying one of the last few peaceful moments you’ll have for a while as you anticipate MKJ’s next move.

“What can I say? I’m making the best of a free meal.” You giggle which only makes Yoongi roll his eyes.

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to take the bill based on gender roles.”

“I mean it’s only fair since you’re the one who suggested this date.” You smile coyly, reaching for the check only for it to be snatched by Yoongi.

“You got me there blossom.” He smiles and your blood runs cold. Does he know? Yoongi’s eyes also widen and he coughs awkwardly. “Not into pet names? I just thought it was cute since you love flowers so much.” Oh the irony.

“No no, it’s…fine. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” You laugh it off and Yoongi eyes you.

“If you’re sure.” He says.

The night is quiet, the only sound coming from Yoongi’s soft breathing beside you as he’s sound asleep with an arm strewn lazily around your waist. You’ve been good on not checking your phone for Jungkook all day but with the moon high above you lose your restraint, unable to sleep unless you know he’s okay. Slipping out of bed you grab your phone and head towards the bathroom, not wanting Yoongi to wake up and see you searching for a message from Jungkook. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the nerves and fear set in at what could appear on the screen. What if he hasn’t even messaged you? What if he has called you ten times? Do you even want him to contact you?

Turning on the device you bounce on your feet, leaning onto the counter for support. Nothing. The screen is blank, your messages empty. Except suddenly they start flooding in, your phone buzzing consistently as messages from Jimin and Taehyung flood your phone. Though none are from Jungkook and your heart sinks. He doesn’t want to talk to you. You suppose this is for the best because now he can cut ties with the gang seeing as he doesn’t want you around anymore and paid off the debt long ago. Perhaps the most concerning thing is the last text from Jimin: You lied. Jimin knows, he knows that you lied about no longer loving Jungkook but you can only hope he won’t share this information. Taehyung on the other hand is just disappointed in you for hurting his best friend.

Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away because you caused this. As long as you keep telling yourself you’re doing this for him you’ll be okay. With a few more sniffles you head back into the room and set the device face down before crawling back into bed with Yoongi, your heart heavy.

The next day passes slower as you’re unable to get Jungkook out of your mind. You want to make sure he’s okay and that he’s been eating well and yet you’re scared that if you reach out you’ll only make him feel worse. If you contact Jimin he’ll just ask you where you are and tell you to face your problems rather than run from them and Taehyung is probably too upset at you to give you any information on Jungkook’s condition. The only thing you can do is hope that time will heal his heartache and eventually he’ll understand your sacrifice. Yoongi says nothing about your sudden quietness and you’re grateful for that. Instead he gives you silent comfort in the form of soft kisses and hugs.

There’s more customers today than yesterday and you enjoy watching Yoongi as he works, making pretty bouquets upon request and whispering ten nice words to the flowers. You catch him doing them again to a bunch of anemones before handing you one. “For you.”

“Fading hope?” You ask and he frowns.

“Anticipation for what’s to come. Think of the positives blossom.” He says, tapping the tip of your nose and causing you to smile.

“Sorry Mr. Flower Whisperer. I only send flowers for negative occasions.”

“What a waste of such delicate beauty.” Yoongi tuts and you just roll your eyes.

“There’s beauty in tragedy you know?”

“For the amount of flowers you buy, you must be surrounded by tragedy.” He quips and your smile falls.

“Yeah you could say that.” You mumble and Yoongi frowns.

“Well at least you have me to teach you about the beautiful things in life.” He finishes the statement by taking your hand in his own and twirling you around just to make you smile. “Your smile being one of them.” He says and you scrunch your nose.

“Gross, you’re so mushy.” You tease only to have Yoongi tickle your sides in retaliation.

“Accept my love!” He yells as you squirm to get away from his arms. The sound of your phone ringing makes you both still before you run over and answer without looking at the contact name.

“Jungkook?” You say almost breathlessly, your heart racing in anticipation as you fail to notice the way Yoongi’s smile drops.

“No.” Jimin says and you sigh in disappointment.

“How is he?” You ask and you can practically see Jimin rolling his eyes.

“Yes I’m doing fine, thank you. Besides why’re you asking me that when he’s with you?”

“What do you mean? Jungkook isn’t here.” There’s a pause on the line and you grow anxious. “Jimin where is he?”

“He was on his way to see you and talk things out. He should’ve been there long by now, he left two hours ago.”

“Tell Taehyung to track his phone and I’ll be at the house as soon as possible.” Scrambling you run upstairs to find your car keys, mind in such a frenzy you don’t even see them on the dining table until Yoongi has them held in front of your face.

“Looking for these?” He asks and you sigh in relief.

“Yes thank you, I really need to go. Thank you for letting me stay for the past two nights and I’ll see you around.”

“Keep your phone on you.” Yoongi says suddenly and you turn with a furrowed brow. “Just so I can call you later and make sure you’re okay.” He says hurriedly and you just nod before running out the door and to your car.

When you arrive back you immediately head to the training room, grabbing a plethora of knives and even two handguns, already knowing just who you’re dealing with. You’re in the midst of packing away ammunition when your phone rings from an unknown caller. “Hello?” You ask in a bored tone, already knowing who’s on the other line.

“Well if it isn’t Blossom herself. I’ve got to say it took us a while to find your number in the system, your boy Taehyung there is quite the hacker.” The voice says and you still when you hear Taehyung’s name dropped.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Ahh so you noticed your little boyfriend is missing. Although is he really your boyfriend after you’ve been out with Min Yoongi?” You’ve been reckless. MKJ has been following you and you’ve been too caught up in your own issues to notice, once again putting those you love at risk.

“Min Yoongi means nothing to me. He’s just a supplier.” The least you can do is try and spare him when all he’s shown you is kindness.

“Is that why you went out for sushi with him last night? Perhaps you’re not as skilled as everyone says you are since you were unable to even notice you were being tracked. Disappointing to say the least, I thought I’d have a real fight.”

“Are you forgetting that we killed Hoseok?” You ask and you know you’ve struck a nerve when the man on the phone sucks in a sharp breath.

“How could I forget? Did you also forget that our business is an eye for an eye? With that in mind I should just kill your boy right here and you can find his dead body. Would you like that instead?” He says angrily and it takes everything in you to not panic.

“You would’ve killed him already if you wanted to. So just tell me what you’re looking for.”

“Well sweetheart since you asked so nicely I’m looking to meet you. I want to watch as the life drains from your eyes the same way you watched my best friend die. And after you die I’ll kill your two little boyfriends and then everyone else in your gang.” You can hear the smile in his voice and your heart begins racing. Is everyone in MKJ insane?

“Are you gonna send me the address like a good boy or are you gonna make me search for you?” You ask and chuckle at his frustrated groan.

“I was going to make you work for it but since you’re being a little bitch I’ll send you the address so I can kill you faster. And remember it’s just you and me sweetheart. If I see anyone else on the cameras your boy is dead.”

“See you then.” You say before hanging up the phone and grabbing a bag to pack more weapons in. You’re preparing for the bloodbath you expect this to be. When you finally are pleased with the amount of weaponry on you, you head towards Taehyung’s monitoring room. “Give me the names of the remaining heads of MKJ.” You say and Taehyung only scoffs. “Taehyung I’m not fucking around right now. Give me the names so I know who I’m dealing with when I go save Jungkook’s ass.”

Your answer seems to please Taehyung who furiously pounds on his keyboard before a picture of a dimpled man pops up on the screen. “Kim Namjoon, head of accounts and strategy. Founding member and his weapon of choice is a glock. I can’t get a name or picture for their intel department though.”

“Figured. All men take the easy way out and use a gun, I swear.” You say with a roll of your eyes and Taehyung only smiles at you before taking you into his arms for a tight hug. “Tae!”

“Thank you. For saving him I mean because we both know you’re gonna beat this Namjoon guy’s ass. Also I know you still love Jungkook because you’re going to save him so I’m sorry for my messages earlier but I’m still mad at you for hurting him. Now go kick some ass and bring the both of you back so I can tell you how much of an idiot you both are.” Taehyung says and you can only squeeze him a little harder.

“Thanks Tae.”

Jimin stands at the front door, equipped with his own weapons strapped to his chest like a soldier preparing for war. When he spots you he nods and goes to open the door but you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “It’s just me Jiminie. He’ll kill Jungkook if he sees any backup but I appreciate you willing to stand by me.”

“You know he’ll have backup. You’ll be lucky if they don’t shoot on sight.”

“I know and that’s even more reason for you not to come. The boys need someone to look after them, especially Taehyung.”

“I can’t let you go alone.”

“As your boss I’m ordering you to stay and watch the house. Besides have some faith in me Jimin. I’m not just a pretty face you know?” You laugh weakly and Jimin only frowns at you. You both know the chances of you making it out are slim but you’re going to fight like hell to make it out of there.

“I love you. You’re the best sister I never had.” Jimin says and you pull him in for a tight hug.

“I love you too. I’m thankful that I’ve had you beside me for my entire life.” It feels morbid to say your goodbyes like you’re about to die but you know you’ll regret it if you don’t. You just hope this goodbye won’t be real. With a final squeeze you release Jimin before walking out the door.

“Typical.” You scoff as you pull up to an old warehouse. They truly couldn’t have been more unoriginal. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk nonchalantly towards the old building, casually looking around while pretending you’re not scoping for any snipers. Surprisingly between the tree-line and along the roof you can’t see the figures of people or the glint of any guns. Perhaps Kim Namjoon really did want to kill you alone. Yet something still feels off, almost like you’re being watched. Turning around you scan the trees again only to find nothing and your body stiffens. Something is wrong, it feels too easy.

Lo and behold when you turn around a gun is pointed directly in your face and your eyes widen. The man in front of you looks at you quizzically, cocking his head to the side as he examines you. “Are you really Blossom?” He asks and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat.

“You really think I’d send someone in my place?” You ask with raised brows and the man only frowns.

“You don’t look like the monster you’re made out to be. Where’s the girl that killed a whole family just because they looked at her wrong?”

“That’s me. And I didn’t kill them because they looked at me wrong, I killed them because they were terrorizing my people.”

“Even the children?” Truthfully you had spared the children, sending them to a boarding school far away before you killed their parents and writing them letters in place of their parents so that way they didn’t have to grow up being orphaned but no one really needs to know about that. It’s not the children’s fault that they had evil parents. You only smile at Namjoon in response and take joy in the way that his eyes widen in shock ever so slightly. It seems that he’s begun to realize he’s got more than he bargained for. “You seem too inexperienced. You should never turn your back to an enemy.”

“Did I turn my back to you or did I draw you out of hiding?” You ask and again he furrows his brows. He hadn’t thought of that. “So show me where Jungkook is. Come on Kim Namjoon, where’s the emotional torture? Where’s the beatings and gang mentality as I get ambushed? For the head of strategy you didn’t really seem to think things through.” You say and in his moment of confusion, you dismantle the gun from him and slice along his chest. He groans beneath you and you roll your eyes, pushing your foot harder against his chest with the gun pointed at him. “Cmon Joonie you’re making it too easy. You’ve clearly never spent much time in the field have you?” You tsk, before removing your foot so Namjoon can stand up. He looks at you with big eyes and you almost feel pity. The poor guy was so overtaken by grief he sentenced himself to death. Unfortunately for him your loyalty runs too deep and you must eliminate any threat to your family. Flicking the gun to gesture at the warehouse you make Namjoon lead the way to Jungkook, memorizing the path through the boxes for when you leave. Clearly this is going to be a much easier job than you thought.

Yet the air catches in your throat when you round the corner and see Jungkook bruised and bloody, his face painted by blues and purples, splashes of blood dotting his cheeks as the gag around his mouth is stained with blood. His arms and legs are tied to the chair he’s perched on and yet when he lifts his head to the sound of footsteps he begins thrashing wildly with wide eyes when he sees you. Turning off your emotions you fall back into the Blossom role, knowing that his thrashing indicates this is a trap. Searching through the top of the stacked boxes you look for shadows of figures and yet you find none. You turn yet again to Jungkook to search for answers only to see him get knocked out by the butt of a gun you didn’t know Namjoon was hiding. You underestimated him as well.

“Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

“Gladly.” You say before tucking the gun into your bag. One thing Kim Namjoon seems to forget is that you should never leave your weapon unattended in case the aggressor can grab it for themselves. Your smile is wicked, as sharp and pointed as the two blades that sit in your hands. Rolling your shoulders you relax as you left yourself slip into an alternative headspace, one where your humanity doesn’t exist. Kill or be killed as they say.

Namjoon lunges first, swinging his arm out widely, allowing you to dip under him and slice into his side. He yelps at the sting of the cut, holding onto his side as you stand across from him untouched. Poking his tongue into his cheek he charges again and you let him get close enough that you cut along his arm, causing him to instantly pull the knife back into him. He was close enough for the wound to be deeper and much more damaging than your previous surface cuts. “You bitch!” Namjoon yells angrily before charging at you in a fit of rage. Unfortunately, for however smart Kim Namjoon may be he is not a fast learner, had he been he would’ve realized he was too flamboyant in his attacks and left many areas of his body unprotected. Lodging a knife into his stomach you take the cut to the back of your shoulder as the other plants itself into his chest and only then does he slump over and flop onto the ground. With a sigh you walk over to his gun and turn back to him, crouching down so you can look at him in the eyes as the gun presses against his head. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and your stomach churns when you realize the both of you know it’ll be one of his lasts.

“You gave a valiant effort Kim Namjoon. You can be proud that you tried.” It’s the only pity and condolence you offer before you stand up and shoot him square between the eyes. Grabbing the knives you wipe the blood off on his shirt before placing them back in their holders and the gun in your waistband. Turning to Jungkook your eyes once again water at seeing his pretty face damaged and gently take the gag out of his mouth. You hold back a sniffle before brushing the hair out of his eyes and beginning to untie his hands. You’ve only begun to loosen the knots before the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you turn slowly only to come face to face with someone you’d never thought you’d see again.

“Jeon.” You say gruffly as Jungkook’s older brother stands before you. He’s much more ragged than when you last saw him, the night before Jungkook joined your gang a few years ago. He looks more tired than he did then too, the circles and bags heavy around his eyes.

“Blossom.” He addresses, walking forward with the gun and you back a few feet away knowing that Jungkook is safe for now. “How lovely it is to see you again.”

“What’re you doing here?” You ask.

“I think we both know the answer to that question.” He smiles before looking down at Namjoon’s body. “I see you took out Namjoon for me. Don’t you just love when people do the dirty work for you? Just like what my brother does for you.”

“Jungkook and I work together.” You say and he only rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure. But thanks to you all the heads of MKJ are dead and I get to be the new leader. Well almost all of them, but give it-“ He checks his watch and as you go to grab your knife the safety clicks. “five hours and he should be dead as well. I can thank you for that as well since you outed his location. Truly, tell me how it feels to bring everyone you care for death.”

“I- I don’t understand.” Who is he talking about?

“Speaking of which you almost got my baby brother killed that day with Hoseok. How is it that you’re willing to put the man you supposedly love in danger? And how could my baby brother supposedly love you when he knows what a monster you are? How can he not blame you for him having anything to do with your gang?”

“Maybe because it wasn’t my fault. It was your debt that he paid. You were the one who let him do it for you. Do you even care that he did it so you could have a better life? Now all of his sacrifice was for nothing; you’re just doing the same shit for someone else.” You say and he huffs angrily.

“I did this for him! I can protect him there unlike you.”

“He was only in danger because of you!” You scream in frustration. He’s just as dense as you remember.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not good enough for my brother and because he can’t realize that for himself I’ll just make the decision easier for him. Got any last words?”

You swallow harshly but lower your head anyways and accept your fate. If you make one move he’ll kill you anyways. As long as Jungkook is okay you’re fine with dying. It only makes sense for you to be taken this way when you’ve done it to so many people before you. When you just did it to Namjoon who lays limply beside you. “I love you Jungkook.” You say, glancing towards him one last time to see him no longer in the chair. You glance up in confusion only to watch Jungkook tackle his brother to the ground as the gun flies out of his hand.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Jungkook yells in his brother’s face, pinning the older man to the ground. “Don’t you fucking touch her.” He says again sternly and in this moment you’ve never been more afraid of Jungkook than you are now. His body shakes with rage and his brother’s eyes are wide as fear surely strikes him too.

“Jung-Jungkook I’m doing this for your own good. She made you into a murderer. She let you join her gang when you were so young, so innocent. She took away your chance at living a good life. ” His brother says the word with such disgust that you can only flinch at such a tone being directed at Jungkook. Your sweet Jungkook who viewed his brother with such pride and love. Your heart hurts for Jungkook to finally see his brother for who he is, the brother that you saw the night before Jungkook joined your gang.

“The only thing she ever did was love me and now I realize that I gave up a life with her for you. For my selfish brother who let my young, innocent self join a gang in his place because he knew I’d take the fall for him. Who then joined another gang in an attempt to murder the woman I love just because she reminds you of what you did. Of the sacrifice I made for you that you made meaningless. So if I have to choose between the two of you, I choose her.” He turns to you then, eyes glossy as he holds a hand out for the gun between your waistband.

“Jungkook-“ You start, tears pooling in your own eyes as you realize what’s about to happen. “You don’t need to do this-“ You say and Jungkook smiles sadly at you.

“It’s the only way I can protect you. I have to do it.” Handing over the gun Jungkook’s hand shakes as he presses it to the head of his own brother. He takes in a deep breath before stilling his hand and looking at his brother for the last time. “Despite everything I still love you.” Jungkook whispers and just as he’s about to pull the trigger a bullet already finds itself in his brother’s head. You both glance up to find Yoongi standing there, his hand shaking as a gun lies in it.

“Yoongi!” You scramble to stand up, questions swirling in your mind so quickly that you can’t even speak as your thoughts cut over one another. “How-how did you find me?” You finally ask and Yoongi just gives you a sad smile.

“You kept your phone on you.” He says before turning to disappear behind the boxes. Jungkook’s sobs keep you from chasing after Yoongi as you run over to him, catching him in your arms as he falls back from the onslaught of tears. His body shakes and you climb over him to pull him into your chest, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist and his head nuzzled into your neck as you quietly shush him.

Hours later the two of you finally manage to pick yourselves off the floor of the warehouse and drive home. Jimin and Taehyung rush towards you when you finally open the door, pulling you both into their arms with fervor. “I thought you’d be dead.” Taehyung sobs and you flick the back of his head.

“I told you I’d bring him back safe.” You say and Jungkook only begins to sob again as he must be thinking about what just happened again. The boys immediately ditch you in favor of one of their best friends and despite the situation you can’t help but smile at the soft scene before you, at the family you always dreamt of having.

With Jungkook finally settled and Taehyung clinging to him like a parasite, you and Jimin head into the kitchen to make some snacks and run over what just happened. “The one odd thing is-“ you start while mixing the cookie dough. “he talked about the third head of MKJ dying tonight. And I’d somehow outed his location? I just can’t figure out who it would be, I don’t really talk to anyone outside of you guys.”

“What if it was that flower guy?” Jimin jokes and you pause, it all suddenly making sense. He knew who you were when you had first met and knew everything about you because he monitored you for MKJ. It matches his cover job in computer information. It explains the 10k watch and why he wanted a slow pace job. It explains why he suddenly moved in 6 months, conveniently the same time as when Jungkook’s brother became the head of intel. Interlude was the password to the MKJ files which is the same word tattooed on Yoongi’s wrist. He spoke like he knew your pain when you had to hide because people were shooting at you. It explains why he panicked when he slipped and called you Blossom. MKJ. Min, Kim, Jung. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why he wanted a relationship with you. Was it all a ploy to separate you and Jungkook? But then why did he save Jungkook from having to kill his own brother?

As if he knew you were thinking of him Yoongi messages you to come outside and immediately you panic. Hurriedly you grab the gun lying on your bed and head out the front door only to find Yoongi standing there anxiously, covered in ash. “Yoongi?” Immediately you drop the gun and check him for injuries, only finding a few minor burns. “Come inside, we need to treat these.” You say with a gentle pull on his wrist.

“I can’t I don’t have time. They’ve burned down my shop and I barely escaped.”

“Who did? MKJ?” You ask and then it clicks. Jungkook’s brother mentioned killing the final head, now known to be Yoongi, in his last moments.

“Yes, they’ve discovered me and I don’t have much time before I have to leave again. But I couldn’t leave without asking you to come with me.” Taking your hands into his he soothes over your knuckles with his thumbs while looking up at you hopefully. “Come with me and we can settle down somewhere new and I’ll give you that white picket fence we talked about. We can get the house with the grand piano and can have a big yard in the backyard and tend to a garden. I have enough money that we can just stay in the house and relax every day, there’s no need to put ourselves in danger by going out and working. We can have the normal life that we’ve always dreamt of. So come with me and I’ll make it come true just for you. I’d do anything for you.”

“Like kill Jungkook’s brother?” You ask, unable to help the question from falling off your lips.

“Yes like killing his brother. I knew he’d hate himself for killing him or you for killing him so I decided he could just hate me. Another person can’t hurt.” He laughs weakly. “I know we haven’t been together for long but-“

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” You ask.

“If I told you I knew would you have even talked to me after? I meant what I said when I said you were a good person despite the circumstances. And I know it’s soon but I can see myself having a life with you and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m willing to give you everything I just need you to come with me. Please come with me, I don’t want to go through this alone.” His eyes shine with hope and yours shine with tears as you realize that this man in front of you is willing to give you everything you’ve dreamed of but you don’t want it. You don’t want it because it’s not with Jungkook and despite the ups and downs you’ve had with Jungkook there’s no one else you’d rather be with. You don’t want the white picket fence if it’s not with him. Sniffling you make eye contact with Yoongi and you can see the hope wither as he no doubt can see the rejection in your own.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“But why?” Yoongi pleads, gripping your hands tighter as he senses you’re about to pull away.

“I don’t want it if it’s not with him. I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s face falls and silently he slips his hands from your own to have them limply hang at his sides. It hurts to see him so sad and broken but after everything he’s done for you Yoongi deserves the truth. “I can offer you protection though. You don’t have to go.”

“But I do. I won’t be able to just sit to the side and watch you love him. Besides I promised myself when I left MKJ that I wouldn’t return back to this life and I already broke that promise once for you.” You can only nod, eyes watering as you hold them back through a sniffle. Despite not knowing each other for long it hurts to see him go; you’d grown rather fond of the feisty flower boy.

“I understand. Call me if you need anything.” He only nods, coming closer for a second to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Take care Blossom. Maybe in another life we can be together.” He murmurs before turning away and disappearing into the night.

Six months later and things are finally slipping into place. MKJ has imploded, the members turning against each other in aim to be the new head but the only thing they’ve accomplished is killing the entire gang off. With your rival out of the way you’ve had time to work things out, like your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve waited patiently by his side through his grief, holding his hand every time he breaks down as he remembers the final moments with his brother. You’re never more thankful for Yoongi than you are at these times, knowing that had he not shot the gun that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to survive the self-hatred. You still itch to check up on Yoongi but in order to protect him you refrain. He deserves a clean break and that means that you can’t be in his life, even as a friend. It hurts but the least you can do is let him move on. During this time you’ve also worked on yourself and all your past scars, pulling away at the old bandaids thrown haphazardly over your wounds to actually sew them back together. It’s hard and you must cry nearly every night but at this moment in time you can say that you’re finally okay with the person you are. That you deserve to be loved and that what matters is who you are today. Because as a great friend once said: our past does not define us, the only thing that does is who we are today.

“Go on a date with me? A real one where I call you my girlfriend and hold your hand and do all that mushy shit.” Jungkook says, cheeks dusted a soft pink as he leans against your door frame with a bundle of yellow roses in his hand.

“Ahh ever the romantic.” You tease to distract him from the way that your breath catches in your throat. His hair is parted neatly in the middle, framing his strong cheeks as it slightly curls around the edges. His large chest is hidden underneath a slim fitting black button up, the silk material shining softly under your bedroom lights. His thick thighs are covered by fitted black trousers and you have to stop yourself from swallowing loudly. He looks so handsome that you can barely figure out what to do with yourself as he fiddles under your stare.

“Is that a yes?” He asks shyly and you can’t help the small laugh that tumbles out. He’s so intimidating in normal situations but here he’s like a boy asking out their first crush. He’s adorable and all yours. You’ve never felt so lucky.

“It’s a yes Kookie. Let me get changed and we’ll go out okay?” He only nods, gently setting the flowers down on your bed.

“So where are we going?” You ask as you change into a black dress tucked away in your closet for special occasions. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you but pay it no mind as you move across the room to put on the necklace he bought you. Jungkook moves to stand behind you, humming thoughtfully as he latches the necklace around your neck.

“It’s a surprise.” He says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder softly in finality. “Now cmon, my pretty girl deserves to finally be shown off.” Taking your hand in his, he leads you through the house and you giggle at his haste. You pass by Jimin and Taehyung who smile widely at the two of you, giving you a thumbs up as you walk by.

You’re shocked to say the least when you pull up at the familiar location, a small restaurant taking place of Yoongi’s old shop. The floral scent has been replaced by that of baked bread and grilled meat as the two of you stand in front of it. Your eyes turn glassy for a minute as you stare up at what used to be your secret sanctuary. “I saw their opening night was tonight and thought you might want to come. I know this place meant a lot to you and I wanted you to know it turned into something beautiful.”

Beautiful it was with its artisan exterior, the loft upstairs turned into a patio where you can eat under the stars. With a gentle tug, Jungkook leads you inside giving the hostess your name before she leads you up the stairs and to the patio. If you close your eyes you can still remember what Yoongi’s small apartment looked like and you smile at the memory. Opening your eyes everything is cast in a warm golden glow from the lights strung above and through the thin awning you can see the stars.

“This is beautiful Kookie.” You smile and Jungkook smiles widely at you, reaching over to take your hand in his own.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried it might make you upset and that I ruined our first date.”

“You did a great job baby.” You say softly, leaning over the table to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You tell Jungkook and he brings your conjoined hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you too. Forever and always.” The moment is soft, his eyes turned honey as he gazes at you warmly, his love and adoration encasing you entirely. You’ve never felt more at home then in this moment and you know you made the right decision all those months ago.

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