#would I commit murder just to see her smile? yes

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

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

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

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

Wordcount: 15.9k

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

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

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

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

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

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

Three months prior

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

“I am.”

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

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

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

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

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

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

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

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

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

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

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

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

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

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

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

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

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

“I’m not hungry.”

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

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re inside”, he says.

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?” 

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

“Very serious”, he rasps.

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

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

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

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

“My farce?”

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

“Did you even hear what I said?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir?” 

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

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

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

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

“She’ll get home safely.”

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

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

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

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

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

He pats him on the shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Check on me?”

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

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

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

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

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

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

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

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

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

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

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

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

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

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

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

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

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

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

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

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

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

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

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Flames are hot”, he says.

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

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

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

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

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

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

“What do you got?” you ask him.

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

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

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

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

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

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

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

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

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

“Already?”

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

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

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

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

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

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

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

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

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

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

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

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

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

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

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

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

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

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

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

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

“Understood. Over.”

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

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

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here all alone?”

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

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

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

“I can take care of myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump.

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

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

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

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

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

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

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

“I don’t…”

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

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

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

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

“Should we get dinner?”

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

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

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

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

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

“No.”

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

“Stop the car.”

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

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

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

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

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

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

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

Yoongi gulps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

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

“No, you-”

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

You turn your back to him and leave. 

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

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has always been mine as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It has always been his problem as well.

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

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

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

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

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

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

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

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

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apologies again.”

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

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

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We already have everything.”

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

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Sit. Down.”

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

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

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

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

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

“Shut up, Kim.”

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

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

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

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

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

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

“You don’t mean that.”

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

“Yes, there is.”

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

Bang!

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

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

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

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

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

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m-”

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

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

You nod your head.

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

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

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

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

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

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

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

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

You can hear them talk as you leave.

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

“Watch your tone.”

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

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

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

“Are you crying, Miss??”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

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

“Of course, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“O…kay? I uhm…”

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

“Miss, are you okay?”

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

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

“V, what the fuck?”

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

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

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

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

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

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

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

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

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

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

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

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

“Two.”

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

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

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

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

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

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

“You’re drunk.” 

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

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

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

“You’ve always been important.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t do that.”

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

“You don’t mean that.”

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

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

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

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

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

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

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

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

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

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

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

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

“Yoon-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

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

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

“You’re so drunk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye-yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

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

“You were pathetic doing that.”

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

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

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

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

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

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

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

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

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

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

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

“You?”

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you promise me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

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

“Yeah”, you snicker.

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

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

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

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

[peachysunrize]

Devil’s Doll ⥃ Mob boss!Aemond

Summary: no one can do anything when Aemond Targaryen sets his eye on a sweet girl and comes to the party with her on his arms, and those who dare to say an ill word will face his wrath with a bullet in their head.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, possessive & obsessive Aemond, mob/mafia au! Murder, creampie, Aemond is a sociopath simp for you, blood & gore, oral (F! Receiving), rough sex, Qoren Martell is an ass here, self defense murder, ztell me if I’ve missed anything. English isn’t my first language so if you’re not okay with that, simply ignore this post. if you don't wanna read dark content, block rue:darkcontent <3

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: babeeees! Hello and welcome back to another unhinged smutty one shot I have written! Hope this satisfies your needs for possessive Aemond🤭 please reblog and comment, it’s most appreciated🩷

A very special thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta-ing this piece!🩷🫂

In the world of crimes, Aemond Targaryen’s name is enough to make men shiver in fear. The ruthless nature of him has been the subject of many late-night stories in the past few years in the filthy streets of King’s Landing and beyond.

The one-eyed prince they call him. The infamous second son of Viserys the Coward has built an empire solely around one thing; blood and vengeance. 

After the murder of his fiance at the hands of his uncle, he became an untamed beast, bloodthirsty and hungry for revenge to the point that he became the god in the eyes of many — he wiped the streets off any man from his sister’s clan, ruled on the ashes of their bones and burnt flesh.

He thrived in the newfound power, he cherished it and greedily took more and more until there was nothing left more to take. Aemond Targaryen became the head of his clan with his loyal followers doing anything to please him and keep their heads attached to their necks.

So when he finds a new sweet girl at the local coffee shop he frequents, his emotions begin to cloud his judgment or heighten it in a way.

It starts innocently; a black coffee with dark chocolate on a daily basis, a sweet smile, and ‘Have a nice day, sir!’ Always ready for him. 

Sweet girl, he calls you when you bring him his order and brushes his fingers atop yours when you lean down to put his coffee on the table.

He looks, he observes, and he obsesses over your every move, every step you take, every inhale and exhale. He likes watching you.

The ruthless god of the criminal world has set his eye on his new prey.

You notice him, of course you do, because he wants you to know about him, he wants you to be as interested in him as he is in you. He loves how your lips move when you question his motives; sweet girl he calls you again, telling you how beautiful you look when you work and how he desperately wishes he could take you out on a date. But he can’t, not when his enemies are behind the corner, ready to strike where he is weak.

Yes, you are his weakness, and the one-eye god isn’t used to it, but for you… oh for you he would murder, he would let his bloodlust get the best of him and commit a massacre just to see a glimpse of your smile.

He catches you crying in the corner of the cafe, mouth agape as you stare at the man who was supposed to be your date for today, lying limp and lifeless with a bullet in his head.

Sweet girl, he calls you as he brushes your hair out of your face, you look like a doll, his doll, and oh, in the pit of your stomach you feel a strange warmth because of his heated gaze. He is smiling, he shouldn’t but he is, and you smile back, captivated by his nature, by his cruelty and devotion.

It feels like fresh air when you reach out to caress his dimples, how he has dreamed of your soft skin on his. The touch only makes him hungrier, a desire, a need to make you his, and he does that night. He takes you to your small apartment, giving you a pleasure like no other while you cling to him — sweet girl, my doll, he calls you, vowing in his head to protect you, and when he asks you why you do not feel disgusted by what he has done to that man, you reply:

“I’m sick of heroes. They ruin their loved ones to keep others safe. But a villain, my devil, you, will burn the city without letting a flame touch my skin.”

He is like your shadow from that day; following you around in the dark without you noticing, keeping his business up while he focuses on you. Sweet girl, he thinks, how you smile at those unworthy people, your smile should be his and his only.

The news spreads like fire; Aemond Targaryen has found a new plaything. As soon as those words fall from one of his men, others gasp and shriek, staring at the poor man’s head that has a hole carved with Aemond’s bullet.

Plaything they say, he scoffs at the thought. You are no plaything for him, you are his sun, his moon, the air to his lungs, you are fuel for his soul, and he wishes he could burn under you to show you how much you mean to him, to crumble into pieces and let you stomp over him while he basks in the glow of your face.

You are his doll, The Devil’s doll.

He knows how dangerous his world is, he understands it perfectly, and that’s why he nearly loses himself when he finds the door to your apartment ajar with muddy footprints leading to your bedroom.

He sees red when the scent of iron hits his nose; blood, he thinks. What has happened to you? He has never felt such a strong emotion before, not for his fiance or even his sister. Now, he is shaking with fury, his knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the gun.

You leap into his arm as soon as you spot him in the doorway, letting the knife fall from your hands while you push yourself to him, clutching his shoulders while you sob.

He sighs in relief, holding you in his arms tighter than he has ever done before. You’re alright, his sweet girl, his doll. He listens to you intently, wiping off the tears that fall from your gorgeous eyes gently, oh you look just like a dream come true; your dress is covered in blood, a man you killed for defense lying on the floor beneath his boot.

He has never been more proud of anyone than he is of you.

He wants to show you off to the world, sick of all the hiding and lies behind the rumors spread by Rhaenyra’s clan. He needs to let everyone know how beautiful his doll is, and what a goddess he has in his arms.

He helps you get ready, keeping his hands all over your body while you try to put some clothes on, giggling and indulging him as he kisses your bare shoulders, groaning at the sight of you in black and red.

“Sweet girl, I have to be the luckiest man alive to have you as mine.” He whispers in your ear, eye narrow as he takes you in again, thinking about how he could be graced by your presence.

“And I the luckiest girl, my love. You make me feel so happy,” you reply, spraying your perfume on your neck and collarbones, and Aemond nearly moans as he takes your scent in.

“Fuck, you have to be a sorceress, I am bewitched by your beauty and smile. What have you done to me, doll? What spell have you put me under?” He attacks your neck with kisses, relishing in the small giggle you gift him.

“I’ve poured a potion in your coffee every day, to make sure your eye only sees me and no other girl.” You joke, turning around in his arms to give him a soft peck on the lips, mindful of your lipstick to leave no trace on his clean-shaven face.

“Don’t give me ideas, doll. I might do it just to keep you all to myself.” He grins, his dimples on display for you to kiss them, chuckling as you try to wipe the red stains off his face.

“Oh, I would love that. Please do, my love,” you match his smile, lopping your arms around his neck, “now, let’s go to this party. The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave and have our fun.”

“Anything for you, sweet girl.” He says, offering you his arm as you both walk towards the door, Aemond helping you down while you hold the long skirt of your dress in your hand, taking cautious steps to the car.

Criston nods at both of you and opens the door, waiting until the two of you are settled inside the car before he gets in himself and starts driving to the location.

Aemond was reluctant to attend this party, after all, it was hosted by one of the clans that were loyal to his sister, but his grandfather convinced him to go with Aegon and Daeron, but he declined and said he’d rather go alone with his doll.

You smile at him, caressing his ring-clattered fingers that are caressing your thigh gently, talking with Cole about what is expected of tonight; murder for sure, but he would rather not get caught up in the whirlwind of hatred he has for his sister and uncle, and most importantly, he needs to keep you safe from all the eyes of those hungry men.

The ride to the mansion is quick, and a sense of dread fills the two of you when your eyes meet. Aemond presses a kiss to your forehead to both calm himself and you before the car comes to a stop and he steps out, coming to your side and holding your hand to help you on your feet.

The moment you step inside the house, you are greeted by various couples, men, women, and people that you have no idea about. You keep your head high, squeezing Aemond’s arm as the two of you hide your discomfort behind a smile while everyone keeps staring at you.

“Targaryen,” someone calls Aemond behind you, “you honored me with coming tonight!” You both turn around, finding Mr. Tyrell and his wife and oldest daughter waiting to greet you.

“The honor is mine, sir,” Aemond shakes his hand, reaching to press a kiss to Mrs. Tyrell’s hand, “thank you for having us tonight. Let me introduce you to my girl,” he puts his large palm on your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you shake and greet your hosts.

“You certainly have won yourself a prize, Aemond.”

“No prize is as beautiful as she is, I’m afraid.” Your lover says, pinching your waist playfully away from the eyes of the attendees, looking at you with nothing but adoration and unconditional devotion.

“You’re too kind, my love,” you smile, “Lady Tyrell, I would love to get to know you more.” Aemond nods at you gratefully, glad that he has discussed his plans for the party with you.

Aemond watches you being led away by the ladies, letting the smile fall from his lips as he gazes back at Tyrell himself, “I hope you have good reasons for wasting my time here.”

“I do, Mr. Targaryen. I wish to introduce you to Prince Martell from Dorne.” Tyrell says, pointing at a group of men who’re talking intensely. As soon as the two of them approach the group, they grow silent, waiting for Aemond to say something — their silence could be because of two things, either they respect him, or they’re terrified of him.

He hoped it was the latter, for with fear there comes blind respect and loyalty.

“Ah, Targaryen,” Prince Qoren Martell says, reaching to shake Aemond’s hand, “how wonderful to finally meet the One-Eyed God of the underground. Made yourself quite the name, huh?” Qoren smirks, already sensing how his words irritate Aemond.

Aemond shakes his hand back, tightening the hold he has on him, a ghost of a sinister smile forms on his face while he stares at the Dornish man with his indigo eye.

“Can’t say the same about you, Prince Qoren. What have you been doing all this time, not ruining the South, I hope?”

“You’re funny,” Qoren laughs, tapping Aemond on the shoulder, “Ah, I missed someone who’d challenged me over stupid things, kind of feels good to have a kid like you around.”

“Mind your words, Martell. He is no ordinary man, these silly little challenges will be the least of your concerns if he decides you’re not worth his time.” Barros Baratheon, ever the loyal dog of Aemond, speaks up, standing tall and proud next to him.

“Pft, please, I’m sure he knows I’m joking!” Qoren laughs nervously this time, “but… I don’t think your man isn’t doing great nowadays huh?”

“What do you mean?” Aemond asks, slapping Qoren’s hand away, “I wonder what has been said that makes you so full of yourself.”

“I don’t need to say a thing, look, your pretty plaything is coming,” Martell smirks as he eyes you up, watching the sway of your hips as you walk shyly towards Aemond, feeling a bit out of place due to all the looks on you.

“Eyes on me, Martell,” Aemond says through gritted teeth, anger swimming in his good eye as he watches the Dornish man look at you intently.

“Aemond…” he turns around at the sound of your voice, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Sweet girl—“

“Ah, it’s truly a shame that a beautiful girl like you wouldn’t reach anywhere with being a side chick for a Targaryen.” A deadly silence falls on the group, Aemond with his ever-rising temper looks at Qoren who hasn’t realized what he has truly said.

“Elaborate, Martell.” He hisses, reaching to pull you closer to him, covering your body mostly with his.

“You need a lady sooner or later, I doubt a woman from her status would be a good choice of a wife for you. You need someone stronger, with more connections, and a mind as sharp as you, not just a pretty whore to keep your bed warm,” Qoren shrugs, and a few men from his side laugh and agree with him.

Aemond presses his lips into a thin line, his fingers twitching in anger as he gazes at Qoren; he looks murderous, ready to pull his gun out and empty a bullet in that useless head of his — but he’s stopped by the sound of your sniffing.

He looks at you, his features softening immediately when he sees your teary eyes. He feels as if he’s about to die with a dagger in his good eye; the look on your face hurts him, burns his heart, and tears it into pieces. The string you’ve wrapped around him tightens and tightens until he cradles your smaller face in his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to your quivering lips before his eye turn black with madness.

He pushes you behind him, and in a second, the hall is filled with screams and shrieks of horror and bullets flying around, bodies of the men who dared to disrespect Aemond’s doll are falling on the floor next to his shoes one by one.

He feels you bury your head in his blazer, gasping at the sound of yet another bullet firing into someone’s head. Aemond doesn’t blink, not even once. His blood is pumping with the urge to showcase how much he’s willing to do to keep his sweet girl happy and content.

“Let this be a reminder to all of you,” his voice echoes in the hall, “whoever dares to say anything about my girl will face the same fate; death! Aemond Targaryen will go to a fucking war for his future wife!” With that, he holds his gun upwards to the ceiling, firing not one, not two, but nearly six bullets to make sure the hall is empty besides the corpses and the two of you.

“Aemond…”

“Shh,” he shushes you roughly, pressing his lips into a searing kiss to yours, groaning at the sweet taste of your lips. He adores losing himself in you; in your taste, in your scent, in every ounce of attention you give him. He feels blessed to even breathe the same air as you, but kissing you… his heart stops every time his lips meet yours, and now, with adrenaline and anger swirling in his veins, he wants nothing but to show you his devotion — even if it comes out as a rough fucking session while staring at the men he killed for you.

His trimmed nails dig into your sides, groaning at the feeling of you melting beneath his rough touch. Aemond is a man possessed with how he handles you, strong and confident while he finds the closest table and finally breaks the kiss.

He watches how your chest heaves with ragged breaths, lips swollen, and eyes wide and hazy with lust — the perfect picture of a goddess that he has been graced with.

He turns you around, pushing you on the table until you’re bending over, looking directly at the limp bodies on the floor drowning in their own blood. He hums as his fingers caress your spine before he strikes you on your ass, humming at the feeling of the weight of your flesh under his hand. 

He doesn’t have the will to wait anymore. He drops on his knees, pushing your dress up to your hips until he’s face to face with your bare pussy; wet and ready to be devoured. 

“Good girl,” he praises you for listening to him when he asked you earlier to not wear any underwear, “The most gorgeous cunt I’ve ever seen, prettiest girl, my doll.” He’s already drunk on your essence without even tasting it, that’s how much he adores you.

He moans at the same time as you do when he finally dives in, wrapping his thin lips around your buzzing clit as he devours and eats like a starved dog, caging your hips while he takes and takes and takes from you.

There’s not a thought in his head, empty and filled with nothing but an urge to show you how eager he is to please and protect you, your loyal dog he calls himself.

The One-Eyed God crumbles for a simple barista girl, and not a single soul dares to say a word, for if they say, they’ll experience his rage.

Aemond is quick and messy with how his tongue laps up your wetness, creating lewd sounds that have both of your hearts racing. His fingers join his tongue, filling you up slightly and giving you the friction you need, but you know him, the only way you can come is on his cock.

You whine in agony as he leaves you aching for more as soon as he feels you getting closer, but he doesn’t leave you waiting for too long. The sound of his zipper brings back your attention to him, and he chuckles in delight when he sees you wiggling yourself back to get some friction, to end this torture and gives into the temptation.

And he does; he aligns his painfully hard cock with your soaked entrance, pushing himself in with one smooth thrust that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Long is gone the man he was a few seconds ago; he is on a mission now, fucking you until you tremble and fall from the edge of bliss, knowing it’s him pleasuring you, it’s him who will burn this blasted city for you.

“Oh, sweet girl, I’ll kill thousands of men if it means I get to be inside this sweet pussy—fuck-“ he groans, hands finding home on your hipbones as he quickens his pace, driving his cock in and out. Hard and fast.

The squelching sound that your wetness is making embarrasses you, and you hide your face in your arms while you squeal his name over and over again.

Your Devil has grown like ivy around your heart, covering the last untouched part of your souls that he had left untouched, and you love it, love being consumed by him.

He bends down over your back, hips snapping into yours roughly, filling you up with his length as the thick tip of him kisses your cervix while his teeth sink into your bare shoulder.

“Do you see the lengths I would go to protect you, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear, licking your tear away with the tip of his tongue, “I will commit unspeakable crimes just to have you by my side.”

You nod at him, looping your arm around his neck to bring him down, and he compiles, bending further on your back to kiss you roughly.

Both of you are close; the knot in your stomach gets unbearable until it snaps and you moan loudly in his mouth, gushing around him as your legs shake.

He follows closely; his cock throbs deep within your core, and with one final rough thrust, he empties his balls inside you, coating your velvety walls with his thick cum, marking you as his once more.

You glance back at the corpses, smiling devilishly at how Qoren Martell’s empty eyes are still on you.

“Sweet girl,” Aemond says, “you’re untouchable now. Targaryen clan is yours to rule.”

[cinnamonest]

Pulchritudinous

Tohru Adachi x Reader

Words: 9.5k

Finally the day has come. I can write a character as a misogynist incel and know it's genuinely 100% canon. What a blessing.

for this I did a teacher! reader, therefore reader is of unspecified age but older than the main cast.

//VERY DARK, female reader, major p4 spoilers, heavy misogyny because it's Adachi how could there not be, implied stalking, near-death experience, major noncon (”have sex with me or die” scenario), threats of death and bodily harm, references to homicide, hair-pulling, choking, firearms, abduction, TV set shenanigans, Tohru likes pointing guns at people

Also I was too uncreative to think of a different slip of tongue so darling makes basically the exact same mistake Adachi makes in December lmao

Synopsis: As the homeroom teacher of the late murder victim, you’re called into the Inaba police station to answer some questions.

“Okay. Just a few questions.”

You forced a polite smile.

“Sure, go ahead.”

In truth, you felt like you were wasting your time.

You already knew most of what was going on. You already knew things that the police didn't. Sitting here was pointless, answering these questions was pointless — you could give him the truth, sure, but that presented a world of problems. It pretty much went without question that that would be a poor idea — you'd be written off as crazy, especially if it somehow didn't work when they tried to replicate your story. You couldn't risk getting fired, or worse, involuntarily committed over psychiatric concerns or something along those lines.

“Konishi was in your homeroom, right?”

You nodded. “That's correct.”

“And you've been to the Junes she worked at, right?”

“Mhm. Once a week or so.”

“Was she ever working while you were there?”

“I recall seeing her there once or twice.”

Yes, it was such a waste of time it felt frustrating. There was nothing you could say — well, nothing you could reasonably say — that would actually be of any help, as much as you wish there was.

“You were one of the last people to see her alive, right? The school said she came into your classroom right before she left.”

You nodded again. “Yes, she forgot to turn something in earlier the same day, so she came back to give it to me. It was only for a few seconds.”

“Did she say anything about where she was going?”

“Not that I recall. I just assumed she was headed home, or to work.”

“Did she seem to be behaving oddly?”

“Well, ah…” you thought back to the day, hit with a twinge of pain at the recollection. “She did seem like she was in a hurry. But not particularly.”

He wrote a few things down, pen scratching at the notepad.

You fidgeted in place, awkwardly clasping your hands together. “Sorry… I know those answers aren't very helpful.”

“No, no, it’s appreciated,” he assured you, albeit seemingly distracted by his task. You gave a weak smile in acknowledgement.

You hadn't intended to become involved in any of this. Hell, you just wanted a nice, quiet life as a teacher, away from the big cities, a small, quaint school. That was it, that was all you'd asked for — a place where you thought life would be slow and peaceful.

Serial murders were not the sort of thing that was supposed to happen in towns like these.

And even then, at this point you wished the murders themselves were the worst part of it all. You never wanted to be exposed to it all, wished you never slipped into that TV. You wanted a normal life, fully within the realm of reality. Not things that defied reality, things that made you pinch your flesh until the bruises were so numerous you knew you weren't dreaming.

Those kids had saved you then, sure, but now you bore the burden of knowing. Having to be aware of such a thing, the way it weighed on your mind, the endless confusion and disbelief as you still struggled to accept it, having to see those kids’ faces in class each day, having them awkwardly come up to you in town outside of school — a routine by now, wherein they assured you that they were working hard on “the case,” and of course, in awkward roundabout ways, always seeking assurance that you hadn't said a word to anyone else.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of such thoughts, turning your attention back to Adachi.

He was trying his best, you told yourself, even if you often felt like he was perhaps not particularly well-suited for police detective work. That dopey smile, that scatterbrained nature, it didn’t seem quite aligned to most people’s idea of a cop — someone who was supposed to be stern, observant, competent.

As for you, well, you'd felt pity for him, between seeing him barked at by Dojima day in and day out, and the general stress the man seemed to be under. You'd gone out of your way to try and be nice to him, even greeted him in public when you saw him — which, given the small world that was Inaba, was fairly often.

You'd been called in for questioning a total of three times, counting today. The first two had been at more convenient hours of the day, whereas today, the detective asked you rather last-minute if you could come in right then and there — inconvenient, sure, but when you considered that it was ultimately for the sake of the poor murdered girl, you couldn't bring yourself to reject coming. Besides, you were the one that found her, it was only natural that you'd be questioned extensively.

Still, there was an issue, one you had noticed as soon as he’d started questioning.

“I don't mean to be rude, but, uh…” You gave your best attempt to be polite, “didn't we… go over most of these questions before?”

He stopped writing. His eyes widened for a moment, but then, they closed as he gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish gesture.

“Well, ah, I may or may not have misplaced the notes from last time… I was hoping you wouldn't notice… haha.”

You did not like the knowledge that this man was responsible for public safety.

Still, out of awkward politeness, you waved your hand dismissively, maintaining the pleasant, not-too-exaggerated smile plastered to your face. “Oh, no worries.”

He looked down to the ground, turning his head a bit to the side wistfully.

“Well, now that you say that, more importantly…”

He trailed off. You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head in curiosity.

He turned his head back towards you, giving you another sheepish smile.

“…To tell you the truth… there's, ah, something else I wanted to ask you about.”

There was something off about the tone with which he spoke those words, an audible indicator that whatever the subject matter he referred to was, would be something uncomfortable, unpleasant, rather than an inquiry of a neutral nature.

You blinked a few times, taken aback by the unexpected shift in atmosphere.

“Oh, uh, okay. What is it?”

There was a moment of pause, as if hesitant. He leaned back against the seat cushions, holding his hand out in an explanatory gesture.

“Well, you know, I'm a pretty observant guy, and the higher-ups have me keeping tabs on various people involved… I tend to notice and remember details, take in everything around me, you know, stuff that goes right over most people's heads.” He paused and, catching the confusion on your face, added, “just to preface. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea.”

Yes, something was off. There was a tension in the atmosphere, anticipation making you increasingly uneasy.

But still… polite. You had to be polite. He was a good guy at heart, even if awkward.

“Oh, I'm sure it's fine.” You closed your eyes for a moment as you waved your hand again. “Don't worry, I'm not sensitive or anything.”

He seemed to take that reassuringly, as his posture seemed to relax, but still hesitated a moment more before leaning forward, coming to slouch over with his elbows resting on his thighs, resting his head against one hand.

“…What's a teacher doing hanging out with a bunch of teenage boys so much?”

You hadn't been expecting any one question in particular, nor even had the slightest idea of what he could possibly want to know, but nonetheless, the question he asked was so out of bounds of normality and social appropriateness that it blindsided you completely, leaving you to sit there completely still, slack-jawed and blinking. Still, you forced a smile as you replied.

“…Ah, I… what?”

He smiled as well, seemingly oblivious to your awkward unease.

“Narukami and his friends, I mean.” He tilted his head, gazing off to the side, seemingly trying to present the matter in a nonchalant manner. "I, ah, couldn’t help but notice I saw them talking to you outside of school several times, in all sorts of places.”

“…Narukami?” You tilted your head. “A-ah, well, those kids all… go to Yasogami. So, they're all my students…”

Your thoughts shifted to the kids — your own students, the ones who saved you on that day not long ago at all. And with the thought of them, everything else, all the memories and disbelief and bewilderment, the things you'd tried to push out of your mind for the sake of your own sanity, came rushing back. Your body went stiff.

But of course, you could never even begin to tell Adachi the truth. As much as you wanted to help, you'd be written off as crazy within seconds — saying people could enter an alternate dimension by stepping inside the TV screen was not exactly within the bounds of sanity.

Besides, you still weren't even certain how all that stuff worked, having decided to rid your mind of it and not ask any questions. Even if he was willing to humor you enough to experiment with your claims, what if it didn't work for him? You could envision it now, putting his hand on the TV screen, only for nothing to happen, and the horrible embarrassment to follow.

Then again, the alternative could be even worse — if it did work, what kind of Pandora’s Box would you be opening? Would you be putting people at risk? He was, in the nicest way you could put it, a bit of a dimwit, and you wouldn’t want him doing something rash and getting himself hurt trying to go in.

No, it wasn't even worth entertaining the thought. You clasped your hands together, looking down at the ground, coming up with an explanation on the spot.

“And ever since Konishi was…” You shook your head, pausing for a moment before you continued. “…A lot of those kids have been talking to the faculty… they need someone for comfort… counseling. It's been hard on them. Hanamura and Narukami just happened to come to me.”

“Right, right.”

The phrasing itself was assurance, but somehow, his response didn’t sound entirely convincing, as if insincere, and pressed you to stammer out whatever further defense you could find.

“A-and, ah, Narukami himself is still getting adjusted to living out here and all. He's… from the city, you know.”

“Ah, aha, that makes sense.” He kept up the awkward smile. “I was worried for a minute there… that you were one of those kinds of teachers.”

You blinked, eyes going wide open as the response came out of your mouth on instinct, without any real thought, simply the obvious thing to say to such a statement. “No, no, nothing like that, I…”

You trailed off, not even sure how to continue. The sort-of-accusation hit you with total bewilderment, felt completely unexpected. In what world was that an appropriate thing to ever say to someone, especially with so little evidence? Why would his mind even go to such a trail of thought? It was only the sort of conclusion you could imagine some kind of perverse deviant drawing, and you couldn't imagine him as someone like that.

But you refrained from any strong negative reaction, outwardly at least.

You liked to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just one of those people that had difficulty understanding social conventions and standards of appropriateness — you'd had students like that in the past, and you liked to think you were a particularly empathetic and understanding person when it came to things of that nature.

“Ah, well, don’t worry, I get it now. Sorry about that… now I feel a little dumb for having asked, hah…”

"Oh, it's, ah, it's fine."

Your response was equally awkward. You knew your discomfort had to be palpable.

He flashed you an awkward smile, but it only lasted a mere second.

And then—

“Well, guess that's it for questioning.”

With those words, he reached over to the small table beside the couch, and turned the light off, leaving the room only dimly lit by lights in the outside hallway, coming in through the half-open door. He then stood up, the dated leather of the couch on his side of the table making a slight sound at the moment.

“A-ah, um, what are—”

Your jaw clamped shut as he quickly ventured around the table and sat down next to you — directly next to you, your thighs touching each other’s. You went rigid, hands clasped together on your lap tightening their grip on each other.

“Don’t worry, I had a feeling you weren’t that sort,” he said, a much lower, more hushed voice. “Still, you should really be more careful… it'd be easy for someone to get the wrong idea.”

Your mouth felt dry. You sensed that the pause was intentional, giving you room to say something in return, yet the utterly bizarre and off-putting shift of the conversation, combined with the sudden proximity and invasion of your personal space, left you silent, slack-jawed, and thus, he filled the silence when you didn’t respond.

“…Speaking of, you're getting kinda up there, age-wise, you know. Kinda surprising you're all by yourself.”

He leaned back against the couch. Alarm bells sounded in your head. You didn't want to be rude, you didn't want to risk overreacting — maybe you had the wrong idea, maybe you were misunderstanding, and then it would look really bad on your part if you acted on that misunderstanding, maybe he wasn't aware of how it was coming off, the possibilities of what was happening flew through your mind all at once. You sat still, but stiff.

He didn't seem to notice.

“You really should start thinking about your future.”

You felt every nerve ending in your body ignite with the discomfort and alarm of unfamiliarity as his arm wrapped around the back side of the couch, coming to touch the back of your neck, forearm resting on your shoulder. The casual hold around you grew tighter, his arm pushing you inward towards him.

“You know, ‘cause most women your age are getting into serious rela—”

You moved on pure reflex.

Your body sprang back in the opposite direction, feet scrambling against the tile. Your hands reflexively pushed outward, shoving against him, and you found yourself tumbling off the couch and falling flat onto the floor, grunting as your tailbone hit the harsh surface.

For a moment, the pain that it sent up your spine consumed your attention, distracting you for a few seconds as you winced, pulling yourself to sit upright.

And then, you processed what you'd done. Your head snapped back upwards to look at him. “A-ah, I…”

He looked caught off-guard, momentarily wide-eyed with the sudden startle, having been moved slightly to the side by the force of your push.

And then, his face fell.

His eyes went half-lidded, smile disappearing. A total shift in expression, to one you had never seen the young officer wear before — one you wouldn't have thought his face was capable of.

His voice dropped low, a flat and empty tone.

“…You too, huh.”

You blinked rapidly, heart only beating harder and faster at the feeling of dread and alarm that began to rise up in your stomach. You pushed yourself backwards, hands pushing at the ground to move your body away from him.

“What… what do you—”

“And here I thought you were such a sweet girl.” His voice interrupted yours as he took a step forward, a cold dramaticism to his tone. “So nice… you really seemed to get me.”

You blinked in bewilderment, cold dread beginning to bloom in your gut. You barely knew the man, having only spoken to him a handful of times, most of which were about the case, and a few passing words when you ran into each other in town.

He stopped once he reached you, his shadow looming over your sprawled form. His eyes narrowed.

“But no, you're just another snobby little bitch, aren't you.” His nose wrinkled with his expression of disgust. “Think you're too good for me, don't you?”

You scrambled up to your feet, stumbling on unsteady legs. You pulled your hands up to your chest, curling them into fists, a defensive reflex. Confusion and panic rapidly began to take over, you could feel your heart beginning to pound heavy and fast as the reality of the situation settled in.

“No, no I—” you swallowed, shaking your head in an instinctive reaction to the sudden hostility. “I didn’t mean to—I was just startled, don’t…”

You found yourself trailing off, unable to summon coherent words through your alarm.

He looked you up and down, expression of apathetic disdain unwavering.

“And to think I gave you a chance.” He sighed. “Thought you'd be different from those two.”

You blinked. Something about those words hit you like a punch to the stomach, but you couldn't tell why. Like a siren going off in your head, a chill that ran through your blood, your gut instincts unmistakably commanding you to get away — and you would, except for the fact that, as you realized with the sense of alarm in your chest growing exponentially, he stood between you and the only exit from the room.

“What… what do you mean those—”

Your words cut off.

Time itself came to a standstill. You stood, motionless as a corpse, as a chill pierced your chest. A deep, profound sensation of cold that spread out from your heart, into your blood. You were certain you could physically feel the ice spread out through your veins, to every cell in your being, an all-consuming cold.

You realized that, as he said those words, his gaze shifted over to the side. Your eyes followed his line of sight.

He was looking at the TV, tucked away on a stand in the corner of the room.

Why was he looking at the TV?

You could feel your pulse in your chest. You could feel your pulse in your neck. You could feel it in your head, your fingertips, the way the blood began to rush through your body, the way your heart began to pound, an electrifying sensation setting every nerve in your body alight.

The direction of his gaze, his words, the sudden shift in demeanor so drastic it felt as if he’d swapped places with a different person entirely— it made the hairs on your body stand on end, goosebumps spreading across your skin, and a deep, unnerving sense of nauseous dread as your frantic thoughts began to align. Your muscles went tense, shoulders bunching up.

Words came out between your lips, words you heard more than you spoke, as if your mouth moved on its own. A low murmur, just barely above a whisper.

“…Did…”

You took a step backwards. Your body twitched, shivered.

“…Did you…?”

Silence hung in the air.

You would expect someone in his position to look shocked, panicked, regardless of the truth of the matter. To rush to their own defense, to immediate respond.

But he did not.

There was a few seconds of pause. For just a moment, his eyebrows raised, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

And then, the officer's eyes fell half-lidded, and ever so slowly, the corners of his mouth pulled upward.

Something inhuman stared down at you, a malicious, sinister grin spread across his face, stretched just far enough to look inhuman, uncanny.

Your heart began to speed up. Your voice grew louder, but it audibly wavered with panic.

“You… you put them in there?”

That time, it was his turn for his eyes to go wide, an eerie smile slowly spreading across his face. He tilted his head, the motion seeming almost mechanical.

“Oh…?”

A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you caught your mistake. Your hands instinctively darted to cover your mouth, but it was too late. He took ominously slow steps towards you, each one making a harsh clack as his soles made contact with the tile.

“’Put them in there…?’ What an odd choice of words…” His voice grew lower, deeper, eyes still plastered wide open. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you know some things you have no business knowing.”

You took a step back.

He took a step forward.

“How might that be…? Those kids, maybe?” He cast his gaze over to the TV once more. “I had a feeling something like that might be going on, with you talking to them so much.”

Then, his eyes slowly turned back towards you.

He kept smiling. The same expression, yet so far removed from the cheerful, dopey one you were so used to, the face almost didn't register with your recognition, as if you were looking at a different person.

And then, it grew so much it made his eyes narrow, from mere malicious amusement, to sadistic glee.

“…Intentionally withholding information from the police is a pretty serious offense, you know. ‘Obstruction of justice.’ It’s a felony.”

Your stomach churned, you felt nauseous, muscles tense with the urge to move, but forced still by lack of option. You could only move back further, further away from both him and your only way away from him.

“What… what about the other people that went in? Was that you, too?”

His face fell, almost comically, shifting from eerie to unamused, as if your question was so exasperating it made him drop the intimidating act.

“…God, you are really, really stupid, you know that?” He sighed, shoulders falling. “You just realized that saying too much is a bad idea, and then you immediately do it again?” He shook his head, letting it fall downward with mock exasperation. “Geez, lady.”

But then, you saw his expression perk up with amusement once more.

“But, guess that means I was right… you are collaborating with those brats. I had a feeling.”

Your heart pounded harder still. You kept stumbling back as he crept ever closer, torturously slowly. You held your hands up to your chest in a natural, reflexive instinct of defense, shrinking back.

“…You’re not… saying you didn’t… do it…?”

He shrugged.

“Don't see much of a point in that now.”

He wasn't denying it.

But the simple fact itself was not what made every hair on your body stand up. It was a slow buildup of dread, blooming in your chest, and as the thoughts processed, it was those words, more than any others thus far, that made your blood run cold.

He didn't care if you knew.

He didn't see you being a threat. He wasn't worried about you telling anyone.

Then—

You felt cold. Time seemed to slow down. You were hyper-aware of every muscle, every nerve, you could feel the blood rushing through your body.

“Guess we were both hiding something,” he said in a low tone, taking another step, forcing you further back.

And then, the inevitable happened, causing your blood to run colder still, the fear in your system amplified tenfold in a single second.

Your back hit the corner.

You pressed into it as hard as you could out of instinct to get away, as if it would give way if you did.

But it did not. You were trapped, a little animal cornered by its hunter.

“Ah… ah…” Your breathing grew ragged. Your body trembled, your eyes began to water. “I… Adachi-san…”

The only light was that which came in through the hall, hitting his back, casting a shadow over his face, only the whites of his eyes and grinning teeth standing out — nightmarish, something that could only be recognized as sadistic ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated malice.

He was going to throw you in. He was going to throw you in there and you’d die. The image ran through your mind, so quickly retrieved now that it was irreparably burned into your brain, the shape caught up in the wires, a black outline in the early morning light, how you’d told yourself you were just seeing things, that your brain was spooked from the news of the prior murder, before the rising sun made the image undeniable.

The way you’d squinted and facial recognition hit your body like a punch to the stomach, taking the breath out of your lungs, how you felt the horror slowly rise up into your chest like ice cold water filling your body, how you’d dropped your phone and struggled to dial the police from how hard your hands trembled.

It would be you. You’d be strung up on the wires, dangling by your limbs in a manner almost graceful if not for the entrenchment in death.

You could tell that he could see it all playing out on your face, the thoughts and realizations and terror, by the way his smile split at the line, whites of his teeth standing out in the darkness.

“Well then.”

You didn't have time to move. Before you could even react, he had the collar of your shirt in his hand, twisting the fabric, pulling you upward.

You stumbled around, only the balls of your feet able to even touch the ground. “Wait, wait, stop— I’m sorry—”

“What was that?” He said, voice mocking, cynical. “You said you were sorry?”

You nodded profusely. You weren't thinking too much about it — your only instinct was that trying to appease him might save you.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I was just startled, I wasn't trying to push you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

You spoke so fast your words slurred together, your voice was shrill and cracking. Tears began to pour down your cheeks. Your body shivered beyond your control, a fear unlike anything you'd known in your life.

There was no movement, no harsh dragging and jerking and inevitable pushing you might have expected.

“…Hm.”

You could only make out the shape and colors of his face, unable to see his exact expression through the blur of your tears. But his voice was hesitant, pensive, as if the blood-pumping rush of the moment were brought to a sudden stop.

Your heels connected to the ground as he lowered you, but he didn't let go of the fistful of your shirt. His other hand reached up, and although you winced in anticipation, all he did was wipe at your eyes with his sleeve. Trembling, teeth chattering, you slowly turned your head up to look at him, his face now so much closer than it had ever been.

The smile was smaller, fainter, but still present nonetheless.

“…You know what? I like you, Little Miss Teacher.”

He reached up to grab your jaw, a harsh and painful grip.

“Look at you, apologizing like that… so meek.” He leaned his face closer to yours, lowering his voice to a husky murmur. “You seem like you know your place, recognize your mistakes…” His voice lowered to bitter mutter as he finished, “instead of doubling down on being a bitch.”

He pulled your head to tilt further upward, forcing a degree of eye contact no matter which way you looked. He spoke lower, quieter.

“Self-awareness is a good trait to have.”

You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Your throat was strained, your mind ran blank. You could only stare with wide eyes, fighting every instinct to claw at his hands, what little rationality you had left telling you it would only worsen your situation.

“But I still think you're a little full of yourself.” His fingernails pushed into the flesh of your face. “You could use some humility.”

You whimpered, a pitiful little sound. You could see his smile grow as it met his ears.

He let go.

You crumpled to the ground, knees hitting the surface painfully, hands pressing to the floor to keep you from toppling over entirely.

He took a few slow, nonchalant steps back towards the center of the room, pausing as he reached a small table close to the door, turning back towards you and leaning against it.

“Hey, how ‘bout I give you a chance to redeem yourself?” He titled his head. “If you can prove you're sorry, I think I can let this slide.”

He reached one hand over to the opposite hip. Before you could even make out in the dark what he pulled out from underneath the veil of his suit jacket, the recognition hit as he extended his arm back out to point the object at you, and a heart-stopping, unmistakable click.

“Go on. I'm waiting.”

You trembled, reaching one hand to clutch to your chest again. “What… what do you want me to do…?”

His face turned unamused once more, voice equally so as he gave a blunt, low-voiced reply.

“You’re not that stupid.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your throat. You swallowed, looking down.

For a moment, you hesitated. Your mind scrambled for reasons why he couldn’t kill you. He couldn't — right? Your blood would get on the floor, he wouldn't have the ability to clean it out well enough, right?

But no one else knew you were here. No one would know to look here. If he cleaned it up and threw your body in, that would be the end of it.

There was no other option.

Your trembling hands reached down to your outfit — a cardigan, a button-up and a pencil skirt, the general standard for your profession — and slipped the outermost layer off. After a moment of uncertain hesitation, you resolved to simply throw it into the floor. Then, you began unfastening the first button at the top of your shirt, struggling with how hard you shivered.

“You wear that to school?” His words broke the momentary silence. “In front of a bunch of teenagers?”

You clenched your jaw. You didn't think it was in any way inappropriate. “I… it’s not bad…”

“Wonder how that's even allowed,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “You get off to high school boys staring at you, is that it?”

You shifted uncomfortably, shaking your head. “N-no, I've never—”

“God, you are that kind of teacher after all. Haha!” He laughed aloud, reaching his other palm upon to his face. “I knew you were. I could tell just by watching you walking out the school gates every day… always talking to that brat.” He shook his head, then sighed. “No wonder girls these days are such whores, with role models like that.”

You stopped mid-motion, hands clenching at your shirt as the meaning of his words registered. Images flashed through your mind, all the unique and loveable young girls in your class, and of her. Even in your dread, you found spiteful anger bubbling up in your chest, voice coming out weak and wavering, but defiant nonetheless.

“Don't… don't say things like that, you—”

“Did I tell you to stop?” His head snapped back in your direction, nose wrinkling with an expression of disgust.

You winced, mouth snapping shut. With tears prickling at your eyes, you continued.

Your jaw was clenched, face growing warm as you undid the last button, hesitating for a moment before you let it fall off your shoulders, weakly tossing it to the floor as well before going for the zipper on the side of the skirt, shaky fingers pulling it downward.

“So mechanical about it…” He sighed, disappointed. “If you're not gonna even try and make this part entertaining, the least you can do is hurry it up.” He gave the pistol a light shake to emphasize. “C'mon.”

You bit your lip, forcing your pace faster. The skirt hit the ground, and you pulled your tights off your legs so quickly that one side split open as you did. Your feet pulled out of your shoes, tile cold against your bare soles.

Then, you hesitated. Embarrassment washed over you as you looked down at all that was left.

Your eyes darted up to the man pointing the gun at you once more. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with that cocky smirk on his face, nudging the pistol in the direction of the pile of clothing now by your side.

You closed your eyes and reached your hands behind your back, elastic material snapping as you undid the clasp. You pulled the waistband around your hips downward, and tossed both to the side.

The air was cold against your skin. Goosebumps covered your body, far more for from fear than the chill.

You reached a hand up over your chest, pressing your legs together, trying to find some semblance of dignity.

“Aw, shy? That's adorable.” He chuckled. Snide grin unfaltering, he reached his other hand up, gesturing with a finger for you to come forward. The other arm didn't move, deadly weapon still pointed directly at you.

You tried, but your body wouldn't move. The instinct to stay away was too strong, an inherent gut reaction bred into your brain by who knew how many millions of years of survival of your species.

Prey animals didn't run right into the gaping maw of their predators.

But you had to. You had to.

You took a deep breath, and forced one of your legs to move forward. Then another, forming a forward momentum that you just had to keep going, more a matter of letting your weight glide forward and catching it again and again, rather than forcing each step individually. You kept your gaze at the ground. If you looked up, you knew you'd freeze again, and you didn't know if you had the willpower to force movement from stillness again.

You stopped when his legs were visibly right before you. Your heart was pounding, beating so fiercely you could physically see the pulsating of your wrist moving with the flow of blood.

“There, see?” He reached forward, placing his hand atop your head. “You know your place after all.”

Even through the overwhelming sensation of heavy dread, the burn of humiliated fury made its way through. You clamped your jaw harshly, teeth grinding, but not letting that anger lead you to any foolish action.

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes as his hands then brushed against your shoulder. The touch was cold, leaving a trail of sensation as his hand trailed down your arm, the electrifying feeling lasting on each spot even after it was touched. You winced at the gentle clack sound as the gun was set down on the table’s surface.

And then, you went tense, inhaling a sharp breath as his hands harshly grabbed at your arm and your neck, roughly turning you around and pushing your upper body downward. Your feet stumbled to steady your stance, and your hands reached out to the nearby wall. The panic in your chest felt as if some accumulating bubble of emotion had burst, the intense chill of suddenly rushing through your body, leaving you unable to do anything but stand there — a bitter helplessness, a burning fury at your own pathetic weakness beneath the terror.

“Oh, and hey,” his fingers dug painfully into your arm, “feel free to scream or whatever. I made sure to pick a night no one else would be here.”

You stiffened. Even in your fear and panic and confusion, you managed to make the words out well enough to infer the implication. You turned your head over your shoulder to the best of your ability.

“You—you… planned…?”

“Mm?” He raised an eyebrow. “Obviously. I needed the station to be empty in case you made me kill you, y’know?” He said it nonchalantly, as if it were a trivial matter. “But hey, it was only insurance, just in case… I knew I probably wouldn’t need it. You seemed like you’d be good for me.”

He pulled harshly at the fistful of your hair.

“And whaddya know, I was right. Third time's the charm… or whatever that saying is.”

Bitterness welled in your chest. Your head hung heavily against his hold, pulling at your scalp.

“Now…”

You winced and yelped as he turned you around and your face hit the table, pain radiating from the spot of impact. Your immediate reflex was to put your hands on the table and push upward, but his hand in your hair kept you shoved downward, with an added hand pressing your back into an arch.

You didn't get any moments of mental preparation, much less physical. No sooner had you grunted in pain from the impact than you felt the sudden harsh burning sear of friction to the most sensitive flesh, your body being forced apart by sudden intrusion. You inhaled a sharp, gasping breath, instinctively trying to lurch forward away from the sting, but his hands easily pulled you back, pushing further inside of you until you felt the fabric at the front of his thighs meet the back of yours, hips pressed up against your ass.

“God, fuck.” You heard his voice from behind you, spoken more like a harsh whisper of breath. “…’s warm…”

He pulled back. You gasped and whimpered at the sensation of flesh dragging against your insides, onto to squeal, body jolting as he slammed back inside in one swift motion. Twice, a third time, each making you go tense, shivering, walls spasming.

“M-Maybe you're not such a slut after all…” he murmured. “You feel good.”

You said nothing, unable to summon any words, merely letting out a miserable little sound as the rough motions continued, pressing your forehead to the flat surface below as tears fell down your face and a soft string of under-the-breath curses made their way to your ears.

And then, the motion came to a halt.

“But you're so noisy… listening to you squealing like that is giving me a headache.”

A moment of pause, heavy tension, deliberately drawn out. You felt the faintest shift of muscle against your backside as he turned his upper body over in the direction of the television.

You grunted as he pulled out, leaving your hole twitching. His arms wrapped around you waist, lifting you just enough that your feet left the ground, somewhat awkwardly making a few steps over to where the screen sat in its place on the stand. Your heart felt as if it were going to burst out of your chest, a cold rush ran through your body.

His hand reached up, taking a fistful of your hair once more.

“And you know what else…”

He came to a halt, sheathing himself back inside of you with a harshness that made your jaw clench in pain, taking a few heaving breaths before practically growling into your ear.

“You're not afraid enough.”

Your own breath was ragged, more panic than you'd ever felt in your life causing your heart to pound like it never had before. “No, no please don't—don’t—”

And then, taking a fistful of your hair in his hand once more, he shoved your upper half through the screen.

Out of pure logical instinct, you tensed and squeezed your eyes shut as to brace yourself for brute impact, for shattering glass that would cut your scalp and scrape your arms.

But instead, there was a sudden void. All the noises of your scuffling movements and the low hum of the air ventilation system in the station was suddenly gone, replaced by only hollow quiet, only broken by the low, eerie groan of the atmosphere itself.

Your arms reached out, desperately seeking something to grab, to hold, to push back on, but you felt nothing, limbs merely frantically flailing into the yellow void.

You squealed, but that time, it echoed around you, surrounded by a thick, heavy fog. You could make out the deep yellow atmosphere around you, but you were being jerked back and forth so harshly, and the tears in your eyes and the fog itself so deeply blurring your vision, to the point it was impossible to make out anything.

You couldn't hear him anymore — but even so, you could still feel him pounding into your body.

He tilted you forward. You felt his arm, having pushed through the screen, latch onto the back of your shirt to keep you from falling. Your feet left the ground, your weight shifting from being mostly on the other side, to most of it falling forward on the side of your upper half. You were entirely suspended by his strength.

If he were to let go, you'd fall in completely.

You shrieked. A high-pitched wail that echoed all around you, a sound of pure terror. Your hands reached out in an attempt to push yourself back, but found nothing, merely flailing in the air.

And then, you were jerked backwards.

Your squealing continued until he slapped his hand over your mouth.

You could hear it again, the slapping of skin on skin. Your body was fully back in the real world. Your back hit his chest.

“Was that the sound you were making the whole time your head was in there?” There was mirth in his voice, laughing out the words themselves. “You wanna go back in? Kinda nice in there, isn’t it?”

“No, no!” You shook your head rapidly. “D-don’t, please, I don't want—”

“You could go all the way in, you know.” He pulled on your hair harshly as he jerked his hips forward and came to a halt, holding you still, pain shooting through your scalp. “It would be so easy,” he hissed into your ear. “All it would take is one little push.”

You gasped for breath, unable to respond beyond shaking your head further.

“You haven't been on the Midnight Channel, either,” he added. “Those little brats wouldn't know to come looking for you ‘till it was too late.”

He chuckled, a deranged, low sort — and then went quiet. His torso leaned further forward, face brushing against the side of your neck in a gesture that, in any other context, could have been affectionate. Still sheathed inside your body, he slowly rolled his hips again, a long-drawn out movement, savoring the feeling. Your face scrunched up with uninhibited despair as he spoke again, through labored breaths, as he began to speed up the pace again.

“…But you know what? I don't need the TV to kill you.”

Then, his voice lowered. The playful mockery vanished, something far darker that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally broke through — a low growling voice, a deep, furious malice.

“Stupid fucking woman. I could snap your neck. I could put my hands—”

His hand reached up—

“—On your throat and just—”

It squeezed hard. You jolted and gagged as your airway was cut off.

“I could kill you with my bare hands, right here. Is that what you want?”

You didn't give a verbal response, merely shaking your head rapidly, animal-like whines of fear coming out of your throat.

But that wasn't enough. You heard a low, growl-like sound in your ear, and his voice came out equally so, almost inhuman.

“I said, is that what you fucking want?!”

“No! No, please, Adachi-san, please don't—”

Tears, snot and saliva coated your face. You shook your head, whimpers fragmented by each harsh, rapid thrust that shoved your body forward, each jerk of his arms that pulled you back, and muffled by your asphyxiation.

You could feel his breath on your ear as he continued.

“Then you want me to keep fucking you, don't you?”

It was obvious, of course, that that was what he meant — the only alternative to death. You nodded, choking out your words.

“Yes, please…”

He didn’t respond immediately, moving fast enough that he had to take a few heavy, ragged breaths before hissing the words into your ear through clenched teeth.

“Then beg for it.” His fingers curled further, nails digging into your flesh — yet lightening the pressure on your throat, allowing you to breathe, even if only with heaving effort. “I wanna hear how good you can beg for me.”

You whimpered, mouth hanging open as you tried and failed to summon any words, emotion and stimulus so overwhelming it hindered your ability to even think. His cock stretched you apart, the circumstantial fear causing you to clamp down so hard that he was practically constantly pushing inward with force, rather than your body pulling him in as it might have done with someone you were willingly allowing to do these things to you. Each movement drug against your insides with coarse, burning friction.

He huffed in impatience.

“C’mon. Do it—”

He snapped his hips forward especially harsh, ramming your whole body forward with the force.

“—Like your life depends on it.”

The jerking motion snapped you out of the momentary stupor. Your voice trembled.

“Ah, ah, Adachi-s-san, please, I—”

“Oh, come on. Is that how you call your lover?”

Your brain scrambled to rectify the matter, but he was such a near-stranger to you, you couldn't remember. Maybe he'd said it once, but even as you desperately tried to recall, you couldn't.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I don't… I don't know your…”

There was a pause. You heard the soft, disdainful tch from his mouth.

“Tohru.”

You swallowed.

“T-Tohru…” You squeezed your eyes shut, words coming out uneasy, blatantly forced and foreign. “Please, Tohru, don’t… d-don’t stop, don’t…”

It must have been good enough, as you felt his fingers dig into your hips harder, felt his body shudder against yours.

“Heh… haha…” The amusement in his voice made a bitter burning swell in your chest. “You get off to this, don't you?”

Your mouth opened to protest, to say no.

But you stopped short, a throaty whine coming out of your mouth. Your priority was survival.

You nodded your head.

“’Course you do,” he mumbled, voice growing increasingly husky and laden with labored breaths. He jerked your hair again, pulling you even further towards him, ensuring his chest was firmly pressed to your back. “Little whore… it's always the girls that look so wholesome that are into the freakiest shit, huh."

You could hear the strain in his voice as it began to waver. He leaned in closer, breath hot on your ear.

"This was probably what you wanted, wasn't it? The whole hard-to-get shtick is fun for you, isn't it?"

Once more, you ignored any emotions or knee-jerk reaction of such an accusation, repressed the bitter fury, merely nodded your head. "Mhm, mm..." Your lip trembled, tears leaking out and trailing down your cheeks.

His hips moved faster and faster still, the movement growing frenzied and erratic.

“Of course you’d turn— turn out to be such, such a slut… I knew you’d want it, I knew you—shit—”

He came to a sudden halt, one final jerking pull of your hips to meet his, sheathed fully inside. You felt his cock twitch inside your body.

And then, everything was still.

With the sudden end of the slapping of skin on skin that had reverberated around the room, there was a sudden void of quiet, near silence, barring ragged breathing. You kept perfectly still, the shock and emotion that still coursed through your body so intense, you didn’t even shiver.

Your mind felt as if in a fog, a heavy daze that left you feeling cold and numb, everything felt far away, not real, distant. You kept still, staring forward.

It wasn’t until you felt him slide out of your body, releasing his hold, that you snapped out of the daze, stumbling forward, falling to your knees, legs far too weakened and stiff to support you.

For a moment, you kept your gaze at the ground. You tried to let your mind slip back into the stupor, desperate for some sense of escape, to savor the few precious seconds you could let yourself be anywhere but here, that you could shut him and the reality before you out, that you could delay facing having to look at him again.

But it was only the briefest of seconds before the light from down the hall was cut off again by the shadow looming over you. You began to shiver, chest heaving with breaths that burned your lungs.

Slowly, with eyes and expression blank with the remnant shock and daze, pathetically curled up on the floor, you turned your head upward.

“…Congratulations, Miss Teacher.” You could see the smile once more, the whites of his teeth practically glowing against the shadow, the cruel mockery in his voice crawling under your skin. “You’re way too meek. I've decided killing you would be no fun. Aren't you happy?”

Each gasp for breath burned in your throat, your chest. The words didn’t register immediately — several quiet seconds passed as you slumped over, staring up at him in a dazed stupor, body shivering with aftershock and weariness.

“Th-then… I…” you swallowed, body trembling beyond your control. “I can… go…?”

His eyebrows raised, a momentary look of surprise.

“Huh? Oh, no, no, you—” he cut off with a small bout of laughs, holding his palm to his face and tilting his head upward as if you'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. “Ahaha, don't tell me you actually thought I was just going to let you leave? That's—” He cut off with another laugh.

Your heart felt as if it sank. You felt cold.

And then, he went quiet. He slowly turned his gaze back to you, voice growing lower, quieter, a dramatic ominousness exuding from his body with his words.

“What kind of protector of the public would I be if I just let such a suspicious person walk right out of here?” Hands on his hips and eyes closed, he tilted his head downward and sighed, slowly shaking it back and forth in a mock gesture of exasperation. “You withheld information from the police, regarding a murder at that, and you seem to have knowledge of the killer’s M.O…. that’s what we call a ‘person of interest’ in cases like this, you know.”

And then, despite his momentary attempt at mock seriousness, his restraint seemed to crumble away as the corners of his mouth turned upward, malicious glee breaking through the act. His eyes opened just enough to look at you, narrowed by the grin spreading across his face once more.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to remain in police custody for the foreseeable future.”

You curled in further on yourself, shoulders hunching up, hands curling into fists before you brought them up to your chest in a meek, defensive instinct. Your throat felt dry. You felt your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

The way the smile on his face curled further made it clear the despair showed on your face. He chuckled.

“Well, c’mon. Put some clothes on.” He tilted his head in the direction of where they sat on the floor. “You can't walk out there naked.”

Your eyes widened. The words gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach. “…Out… there…?”

He sighed.

“God, you really are dense. Did you not get that? I’m taking you home.”

You didn’t really know what you expected, as the conclusion from his earlier words was obvious, yet hearing him say it so directly made another surge of panic course through your body. Instinctively, and perhaps against better judgement, you shook your head.

“But, but I can’t— I don’t want—”

“…Oh?” His eyes narrowed, unamused and dark expression on his face. “Well, if you don't wanna come with me, then…”

His eyes trailed back over to the television.

Even as exhaustion wore over your body, fear still gripped at your chest, and your answer came on instinct.

“N-no, I'll go with you, I'll…” You swallowed, squeezing your teary eyes shut for a moment before looking back up at him. Your body was shivering. Your next words came out in a hushed, high-pitched whimper, audibly verging on tears. “…I'll go…”

The smile returned to his face.

“Good girl.”

The words made you shudder, revulsion and disgust a twisting feeling in your gut.

After a brief pause, he gestured to your clothes again.

You looked over, but the fear kept you frozen. After a few still seconds, realizing you weren’t moving, he sighed, walking over himself, grabbing the bundle in a few swift motions before throwing the loose pile over to you. You swallowed, hands shaking and dropping the pieces more than once as you forced yourself to put them on, little by little, albeit now dusty, wrinkled and disheveled. You kept your gaze to the floor as you did, but you felt his piercing gaze on you all the same.

And the moment you fastened the last button, with no hesitation, you felt his hand latch onto the back of the collar of your shirt, harshly pulling you upright.

“Come on. Don’t try that stalling shit.” His voice was now impatient, irritated.

You stumbled on shaky legs, forced to grasp onto him to steady yourself. “I, I’m not—” you swallowed. “…Sorry…”

He didn’t respond for a moment, merely wrapping his hand around your upper arm in a tight, bruising grip, jerking you forward harshly. You stumbled as you were rapidly dragged forward, quickly exiting the room, out into the hall.

“And don’t worry,” he spoke again, “I’ve got a nice little closet to keep you in ‘til I can work something better out. Won’t that be nice?”

You didn’t respond, until you felt a sudden harsh squeeze in the grip on your arm. You closed your eyes and nodded. “I, yes…”

He seemed satisfied with the answer, continuing on, “Besides, being a cop has it's advantages. I can get more handcuffs, monitoring devices… it'll work out just fine. And hey, if you're really good, maybe I’ll hurt you a little less, yeah?”

You bit your lip.

It was all happening too fast to sink in, your mind struggled to process. You were leaving, he was taking you, you had to get away, but you had no way to get away, it wasn’t real it wasn’t happening it wasn’t right—

He halted as you reached the front of the police station. The sudden stop made you stumble forward in your momentum, clinging to him to steady yourself once again. You looked up at him in fearful confusion, and he cast another heinous grin down at you.

“Now, I’m not gonna cuff you just yet, ‘case we run into someone, that would give people the wrong idea and all… but don't think about trying to run or scream or some other stupid shit, either. I dunno if you’re dumb enough to think you could outrun me, but…”

He reached his hand over so that the edge of his jacket was brushed back, unveiling the same gun from before that had since been holstered back to his belt.

“Personally, I'm pretty content with the holes you already have… but I'd still be happy to blow a few more into your legs, if need be.” He tilted his head. “And that river down at the edge of town’s real nice and deep, if you decide to go screaming and drag some poor bastard into this. Got that?”

You lip trembled. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

“Good, good. Now…”

He pulled you forward again, the stride bringing you close enough to the front that the automatic doors slid apart. The cool, humid air hit your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, right. One more thing.” He cleared his throat, turned to you with that godawful grin of cruel amusement, and in a mocking, dramatized voice, said, “you have the right to remain silent, miss.”

Your chest burned with fury. Tears welled in your eyes, your face pitifully contorting with bitter anger.

It was the reaction he wanted. He laughed once more, holding the hand that wasn’t gripping your arm up to his face.

“Ah, that’s adorable. You’re fun to mess with, you know… that’s good.”

With that, he drug you forward again, out through the door.

Your shoulders jerked with a silent sob. Your fingers curled into a fist, and your lip quivered as you spoke in a hushed, but hissing tone, filled with fear and hatred.

“You're a murderer.”

You got only a sigh in response.

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever.”

With an iron grip on your arm, the police detective led you out into the rural streets, the night air freezing against your bare skin. You followed with stumbling footsteps, legs trembling in trepidation. Unable to do anything but follow.

You realized, as the last strands of hope in your chest faded away, that even if there was someone out there, they might not even see you, with the visibility so low.

Likewise, you turned your head back towards the station, but within just a short distance, it was already completely obscured by the fog.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Wasteland, Baby

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 3.4k

TW: Mentions of Murders, mentions of suicide, discussion of suicide, trauma, emotional turmoil, death, arguing, abandonment issues, commitment issues, Angst, some fluff

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me as I try to get off the struggle bus y'all. here is the highly anticipated part 2 of Stick Season !

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl Happens great, happens sweet Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

It had been three years since you left the BAU and you had just turned down a job at the FBI from Erin Strauss. You never heard from her again. 

But you did attend her funeral in D.C a week later.

You didn’t alert any of the BAU that you were returning for her funeral, since you could only imagine the pain they were feeling. 

The plane ride was filled with thoughts of what life would have been like if you had rejoined the FBI. Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe she’d still be calling you and sending you email after email with job offers. 

You had quickly stopped by the wake, the day before, to pay your respects, and give Strauss’ family your deepest condolences. It was painful, seeing someone you spoke to last week, stiff, lifeless, in a coffin where they will be for the rest of time. 

But the worst part was the burial. 

Blending in at a funeral has never been a strong suit of the BAU’s, except for you. You were calm, respectful, and blended in with the rest of the spectators. 

Until you looked across the circle and saw Aaron Hotchner looking directly at you. Whatever he had been feeling before, was quickly wiped away when you looked back at him, confirming his suspicions that you were here, in the graveyard. The look on his face was replaced with a more somber one as he redirected his attention back to the priest, but you knew you would be unable to just leave now that you had been spotted. 

Once she had been lowered into the ground, Hotch made his way towards you, catching his colleges interested. Where was he going? Who was he looking for?

“Y/n.” 

You smiled at him. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn;t fake either. 

“It’s good to see you Hotch.” 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” 

You nodded and looked over as the rest of the people migrated towards their cars to go to the reception afterwards. “I didn’t make it public information, considering I was planning on leaving after the ceremony. I’m just here to pay my respects Hotch.” 

“She called you.” 

“Yes she did.” 

“And she said you turned it down.” 

“I did.”

“Why.” 

“Hotch, please.” 

He took your elbow and pulled you away from the people, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy. 

“Will you at least think about it?” 

“What is there to think about Hotch? I don’t want to—” 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I know you miss it Y/n. I’m not just some colleague, and you know that.” 

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. You knew coming to this funeral was a mistake. But some part of you, one that you had silenced for a very long time, was starting to break through. 

“We can talk later.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

“I cannot believe you’re going back.” 

You sighed and continued to pack up everything you owned into boxes. You had only broken down the ones from a few years ago–that same part of you had saved them for whenever you had recognized you were ready to be back in Washington D.C. 

“Don’t ignore me. I thought you were done with hunting bad guys and certain doctors with glasses.” 

You slammed your hands on the table, causing Lucille to jump. 

“Sorry.” You muttered and slowly sunk to the ground, deciding it was just easier to sit on the ground and have a breakdown rather than talk it out. 

“I’m not going back for him…I’m going back for me. This…” You ran a hand through your hair. “This is n’t what I was meant to do, Luce. I’m not a teacher. I’m okay at it, but…I was meant to be in the field. Teaching is challenging, but not in the way I need. And fuck, I love my kids, you know that I do, but it’s just…”

“It’s not who you are.” She came and sat down next to you, taking your hand in hers. “I’m gonna miss you asshole.” 

You rested your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered back to her. 

“You have to visit me. I’ll get lonely up here.” 

A smile spread across your face as a tear slowly tracked down your cheek. “ You have my permission to hunt me down and beat the shit out of me if I don’t.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” 

All the things yet to come are the things that have passed Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass Like the bonfire that burns That all words in the fight fell to

Your desk stayed pretty empty for the first two weeks you were back—like you were terrified that if you got too comfortable, life would pull the rug right out from under you again and you’d have to leave. 

It was Garcia who first noticed this, watching as you’d pack everything up into your tote bag each night before you would go home. She didn’t say anything about it though, since you were not the same girl the BAU had grown to know. 

You were different, quieter. You spoke when you had something to add, or to correct somebody, but you never participated in the banter; you never stayed longer than absolutely necessary. If the group had decided to surprise you at your new apartment, they would find it covered in boxes—walls bare, fridge almost empty, only essentials like clothes and toothbrush unpacked. 

But you had never been better. Hotch had you start consulting side cases when you came back, a way to get you used to the routine of being back in the office, back in the FBI. You would consult up to three new cases a day, still helping with those that would call back a day or week later for updates or more help. They watched as you easily solved things in minutes, that might have taken the team hours. 

The first time Morgan called you ‘Girl Genius’ to your face, you punched him in the arm (admittedly a bit harshly). But he wasn’t wrong. You could feel the continuous excitement flowing through your veins; your muscles flexing as you settled back into the thing you were the best at. 

You were different, but better. 

Spencer noticed this too. He watched as you confidently answered every question thrown at you. He watched as you consulted on cases and noticed patterns he had missed. 

Spencer had missed you, badly. He knew he fucked up when he had left that night, needed to go and he spend the night away, thinking about his life; his future. Panic had flooded his body at the thought of you being the one forced to take care of him, forced to deal with his shit history and addictive personality and his annoying ass rambles. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

But then he remembered the look on your face—the pure excitement and adoration at the thought of being able to spend every single minute of your life calling him yours. And once the panic had subsided, he felt that same joy. 

When he got back to the house, you weren’t there. 

You weren’t at work either. 

You had just vanished, and about a day later, all of your things had disappeared too. 

And Spencer was a fucking wreck. He was useless at work, and he spent so much time trying to find you, but Penelope wasn’t able to find a thing, and by the time she did, it had been months later, and you clearly didn’t want to be found. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

It didn’t help that seeing you again in Vermont made him want to melt on the spot. A great deal of relief washed over him, seeing you were alive and in front of him. But then he felt the anger rise in him. You had abandoned him, you had just disappeared without a second thought. 

Then he remembered the look on your face when he panicked about marrying you.

You had thought he didn’t want to marry you. 

You had no idea that he felt like he was the the problem, and if he told you know, it would just sound like a fucking excuse. 

Watching you walk back into the bullpen and set up at your desk was another slap in the face. It feels like nobody tells him anything, because they don’t. But then he realized that only Hotch knew about it because everyone froze on the spot seeing you sitting at your desk, working. 

At his desk, he would just watch you. On the plane, he would watch you. And he tried so hard to be nonchalant about it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your hair, your legs, your arms, your lips—he wanted to take your hand and never let you go, fusing your skin together so he could be with you always. 

He was in love with you. And he thought you would rather die than be seen with him again. 

If only he knew that you felt the same way—you loved him right back. 

And that day that we'll watch the death of the sun To the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on And you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs

After about three months, infinite pining, a few longing glances passed to one another, and incessant whining from Derek Morgan, you and Spencer Reid found yourselves together at coffee one morning. 

After about a month later, you found yourself back in his apartment, lips grazing his, not being able to tell where his body ended and yours started. 

Then, the next day, he told you he loved you. 

He didn’t see you for a whole week afterwards. 

But when he walked into work that monday, and you were sitting at your desk, completely unbothered, he took it upon himself to make you talk to him. 

No one else was around, except for Hotch. But his office door was closed, and Morgan wouldn’t be around for another ten minutes anyways. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You turned around in your chair and glared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You disappeared for a week, no word about where you were going, not even telling me you were leaving.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Not now Spence.” 

“I love you.” 

“What?” 

“I still love you.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer…” 

“I’m dead serious Y/n. When you weren’t here after you spent the night, I lost my fucking mind. I thought I had lost you—again. And I wasn’t about to go through that again. I had fucked up once before and I—I thought you had realized you didn’t want to be with me anymore and you had left again.” 

You were silent as he rambled on. 

“When you left three years ago, I lost my fucking mind. I sat here, staring at your desk hoping you would materialize out of thin air just so that I could apologize to you. And then when you didn’t show up, I begged Penelope to tell me where you had run off to, so I could go and find you and beg for you to listen to me while I got on my hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness. You thought I didn’t want to marry you, but I was terrified because I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me. I mean I had just gotten sober, and I thought we were doing so well and then you brought up marriage and all I could think about was how it was another way for you to find out how much you could hate me and get sick of me since—” 

You had finally snapped out the shock you were feeling and placed your hand over his mouth. “Breathe.” 

Spencer shoved your hand off his mouth, but stayed silent, taking an over exaggerated breath to prove to you he did. 

“We can talk about this later.” 

“No.” Spencer shook his head. “We’re going to talk about this now. I want to talk about this now.” 

“Spencer…” 

“How do I know that you’re not going to just pack up and disappear again.” 

“Spencer seriously? I don’t—-”

“You don’t do that? Because we both know you do. You’ve done it twice now.”

“What do you want me to say Spence?” 

“That you still love me.” His voice was low, but his eyes were locked in on yours. “I need to know if you still love me.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

The Next Week

Another Day, Another Psychopath Killer. 

Another way for you to throw yourself into the line of fire because you have always had a soft spot for teenagers. 

Someone was targeting suicidal teens, convincing them to end their own lives, merely making him complicit in their deaths. It had sent you (and JJ) reeling. Both of you had lost someone to suicide, and watching as this person preyed on vulnerable kids who deserved to live and be loved took a lot out of the both of you. 

You had a bad feeling about this case when it was first passed onto your desk, but it just got worse and worse as the week went on. If only you had figured out who it was sooner, you might have been able to save this one girl’s life. But sometimes life refuses to relent. 

The jet was silent on the way back, none of you wanting to speak and break the silence. 

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, offering a comforting presence, and nothing else. He knew you (and it bugged the shit out of you). Years of being with one another meant that he knew when you were upset, and he knew that you despised being touched while you were like this, but you hated being alone. 

It bugged you so much, but you weren’t going to say a damn thing because having him next to you while you sat and listened to your music and spiraled was exactly what you needed. 

He only offered his hand when the plane hit some turbulence, and your entire body began to shake unconsciously. It was between the two of you, and all he did was flip it, so the palm was upwards. It was an invitation that you could immediately ignore and refuse if you wanted to. 

But something in you caused your hand to drop next to his and lace your fingers through his. 

God was it so fucking warm, and soft. You wondered if he still used the lotion you had recommended to him all those years ago when he would complain to you about his hands being “gross” and “too dry”. He absolutely did. 

He managed to hide his smile when you took his hand, but he did give yours a soft squeeze, and continued to read his book, pretending that his insides weren’t aflame and his mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him. 

He didn’t turn a page for over four minutes once your hand was in his. 

And I love too that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's wasteland, baby

That Night

“Thank you.” 

It was the first thing you had said in over five hours, including the plane ride. Once the plane had landed, you and Spencer went back to his apartment, and the two of you had sat in his living room, in silence. He didn’t mind, as long as he could keep an eye on you. 

Your mind was far far away. It was back in college. Thinking about your friend and about the life you could have lived if she was still with you. 

Spencer had left a cup of tea next to you, your favorite, and sat on the couch. You were situated in the chair by the window, staring out into the night, watching as the rain drops raced down the window and as the lights blurred together. 

He was close enough to provide you with some comfort, but far enough away to let you have whatever space you needed.

“Spence?” 

He snapped out of his head, looking towards you. Your eyes were tired, and your body reflected the same type of exhaustion. 

“Sorry. What do you need?” 

“I—.” You interrupted yourself with a yawn, cursing under your breath. “Shit sorry. I should probably go..” 

“It’s okay if you stay.” 

You looked out the window then back at him. 

“I’m not just saying that to get you into my bed—oh my god that came out wrong, I just mean I don’t want you out in that weather and I don’t really like the idea of you being alone tonight, especially after this case because—” 

“Spencer.” 

“---yeah?” 

“I’ll stay.” 

“O-oh. Good. good…” He nodded. “I can uh, take the couch and you can have the bed.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightl;y. “You’re a gentleman, Doctor Reid, but I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” 

“But I—”

“Spence.” 

He huffed, crossing his arms as you just laughed softly to yourself, amused. 

“Why don’t we both go get ready. Together.” 

“Together?” 

You nodded. “Yeah Spence.” 

“Okay.” 

Spencer stood up, and offered his hand to you. 

And for the second time today, you took it. 

When the stench of the sea and the absence of green Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen Are an end but the start of all things that are left to do

And maybe the two of you would never be together ever again. Maybe you would. 

But something about the way Spencer would make your favorite tea, 

or the way he would save you the crossword puzzle on his morning newspaper since he knew how much you loved to solve as much as you could without his help, 

or when he would leave you notes on your desk, making you feel like a giddy high schooler all over again, or when he felt like a good start to something new

or when he would kiss you good morning and good night, promising you he’d be there whenever you woke up

or when he slowly got rid of things in his apartment to create space for your things as you moved in slowly 

or whenever a case was particularly rough for the both of you and he wouldn’t pester you to talk to him about it, instead offering his hand for you to take, and squeezing it, letting you know he was there for you

or the way he would take you on small vacations up to Vermont so you could go see all of your friends and escape from the world of the FBI

or the way he would never storm out of the apartment after an argument, but still give you the space you needed so you could both decompress without getting at each other's throats

or when he whispered every thing he would do for you for the rest of your lives so help him god when he thought you were asleep in his arms

or how he would whispered ‘I love you’ to you as you passed by while you both were working

or when he would never let you run off in the middle of the night because you would panic about whether or not this was all a dream, and one day he would wake up and not love you anymore

or when he got down on one knee and proclaimed his undying love for you, hoping you’d promised to love him forever in the same way he loved you, wanting to be with you, wanting to be near you always

made you feel like everything might be okay after all. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

[0xstarzx0]

DARK RED

Rafe Cameron S2x Reader

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

synopsis: Rafe can’t lose the one person who still cares about him. If he can’t have her, no one can.

tw: smut, fingering, sex, unprotected sex, insult, penetration, vaginal sex, kidnapping, mention of murder.

______________________________________________

You walk into the huge house Cameron, to go into the bedroom your boyfriend, Rafe. It’s last time he was more than absent, forgetting your birthday. And yes it was more than two years that you dated the blond. You always believed it and put up with it.

You even stopped talking to your best friends because of it. They kept criticizing you about your choices and when John B killed Peterkin, they started accusing Rafe.

Turns out Peterkin’s killer was Rafe’s father, Ward.

His father committed suicide on his boat, Rafe is mad at the dough because of it, it rubbed off on your relationship.

Rafe was busy all the time and when you see each other, you argue.  He insulted you with all the names then left you alone. 

He’d end up coming back and covering you with the prettiest presents ever. You did not like it you wanted an apology and that he told you that he loved you, the word "I love you" coming out of his lips you missed. You’re in love with him but does he still love you?

You go into his room and he’s not in it, but the door is wide open. You were gonna go out when he came into the room with just a towel on his waist.

He turns his head to you and puts his things on the bed, he approaches you with nothing, you thought he would kiss you when he continues his way to the door. you raise an eyebrow and he locks the door.

He walks in your direction, you intend to tell him what you feel, when he aggressively sticks his lips on yours.

you respond to his kiss by putting your arms around his neck, he grabs thighs and forces you to wrap your legs around his waist.

his towel falls to the ground, you feel it harden under you which makes you wet. You are aggressive in each of your movements hungry by both.

He takes you to his bed and throws you on, you take off your teeshirt, and he looks at you with envy.

he throws himself on your lips and you moan when his tongue decides to possess your mouth by passing it in the latter.

He stops kissing your jaw and then lingers on your neck, you’ll probably get hickeys from him. He loosens your bra leaving your boobs 

fresh from the room.

He starts kissing your left boob’s while he massages your right. He bites your nipple lightly and your head falls backwards, you moan like it’s the first time he’s done this.

He keeps kissing you everywhere, he starts playing with the elastic of your pants, he takes off your legs to take off your stockings.

he comes back on you and one of his hands ventures dangerously into your panties, he begins to massage your clitoris while his head is in your neck, you moan by tightening your thighs around his hand.

He puts two fingers inside you and smiles when you start taking your breath.

He sticks them in as far as he can, and your nails stick into the skin of his arm. 

A little bit of your path won’t hurt.

You feel your climax coming back on his fingers, he takes his hand off your panties and puts the fingers he used in his mouth.

You look at him and he kisses you tenderly.

"I did it Y/N, it’s over " he says putting his hand on your cheek. You grab him and frown, "what are you talking about, Rafe?"

Rafe does not answer you and gets back between your legs, he starts to jerk his dick between his hands before rubbing it against your folds. without even warning, it sinks into you. You moan with surprise and it begins to push in you, its pushes are long and deep. He tries to adapt you to his pushes that go faster and faster and his even deeper than before.

you moan kissing his torso. He grabs your legs and puts them on his shoulders, are to be deep inside you. The bed slams against the wall and you scream with pleasure, Rafe was never gentle when you had sex you always ended up with muscle pain, bruises, or tears. You’d rather end up in tears because of his over-stimulation than with marks that make you think he’s beating you.

you grab his shoulders to be comfortable installed, Rafe accelerates his pushes by feeling your walls tighten around him, you were tighter than usual and he loves it. you reach your climax a second time and cum on his dick. He still pushes inside you before you feel sons of cum spill into you.

He takes off from you and throws himself to the side, you tremble with pleasure when he catches you to put you in his arms. I love you Y/N, if I am here today it is thanks to you, Nothing can separate us, I have the cross and.. and-" you raise your head to look at him he looks like he’s looking for his words, like he doesn’t know what to say.

"You’ll never have to worry about anything again because, I’ll be with you forever, you belong to me Y/N" he kisses you and you smile against his lips.

"I love you too Rafe and I’m not ready to leave" you kisses him and you stay glued next to each other for a good ten minutes, it is him who leaves first, he tells you to take your shower while he goes to settle business downstairs with Rose.

you blush with embarrassment hoping that she or Wheezie is nothing expected from your lovemaking. And you’re sure to be red like a tomato when you see the marks the bed made on the wall.

You get up with difficulty and Rafe laughs when he sees that you can not walk properly and decides to carry you to his shower and place you under. Then he goes back to his room quietly.

You wash, rinse, get out of the shower, get dressed and get out of the bathroom.

You come out of it and come across a glass of water and a post-it that was not there before you took your shower.

You look at the post-it and smile more beautiful looking at Rafe’s little note: «drink the whole glass of water, it is fresh it will relax you ,  I love you, Rafe.» " I love you, Rafe." Your heart throbs in your chest, you’re so happy for so little.

You sit on his bed, drink the glass of water in a sip, you look at your phone when your head starts to turn, your starts to go faster, you let go your phone before collapsing on the bed.

and black hole, you felt being carried by arms, a strong smell of vanilla filling your nose and nothing.

______________________________________________

you hardly open your eyes, your eyelids are heavy and you can barely keep them open.

You need several minutes to try to reopen them.

When you finally succeed, your vision is blurry. The noises that are in the room are only slow noises as if everything was passing in slow motion, Your body no longer responds, you are like paralyzed at the box spring on which you are.

Your heart accelerates when you finally get your sight back, Ward, Ward Cameron, Rafe’s father is here, alive. You try to talk but no sound comes out of your mouth.

You would like to scream with all your strength not understanding what is happening. When little by little, you finally find each of your senses.

You rise in fury, uttering a heavy grunt. Your legs are too weak to support your weight, you are forced to lean against the wall next to you.

Ward and Sarah look at you, Sarah is confused and Ward offers you a fake warm smile.

He gets up and starts to approach you when, you point him with the finger "I swear to God that if you take one more step towards me, I will cut your hands and pierce your eyes. Ward stops and a silence settles, he goes back to sit next to Sarah. 

What are you doing here?

Rafe enters the room and ignores you, you remain shocked by his behavior but does not say. You desperately get out of the room but your legs are too fragile to walk properly without wavering, you end up falling.

Rafe sighs at you, he tries to catch but you growl by giving him little bangs- which were supposed to be bangs-.

Sarah frowns and looks at you. "Did you drug her?" asks Sarah. Rafe grabs you on his shoulder, he carries you and puts you back where you were. It’s none of your business, Sarah," said Rafe, putting a blanket over you.

"Of course if Rafe is my business Y/N is someone important to me!" She said, leaving you a desolate look, you look down and feel the tears coming up.

Ward interrupts their bickering by talking to Sarah again. Rafe goes to sit on a chair at the other end of the room, leaving you alone.

You don’t pay attention to what they say too focused on yourself, trying to remember what happened the night before.

Headaches cause you such pain you can’t do anything, your cheeks are flooded with tears while you cry in silence. You don’t understand what you’re doing here even less, with Ward assuming he was dead.

"That’s psychotic, both of us" said Sarah.

"I promised Rafe he wouldn’t go to the prison for helping me, I had to make good on that promise"

Your blood instantly froze. The pogues didn’t lie. Your brain gradually resembles the pieces of the puzzle. An immense uncertainty settles in you. 

You love Rafe and despite what he did you know you’ll forgive him, but you can’t help but feel bad.

You have two choices: first choice, you decide to live with the fact that your boyfriend killed someone. Second Choice, despite your love for Rafe, you decide to betray him.

The tone rises in the room, and Ward stops it. You burst into tears. You fight with yourself.

"We’re gonna live a new life, all of us together." Said Ward.

"What the hell am I doing here?" you’re asking on the verge of a nerve attack.

Ward ignores you and goes, "Sarah, where I’m taking you is paradise." He goes on to say that he brings us to an island on the edge of Guadeloupe.

You blow up, none of them give you an answer. "What the hell am I doing here! You know it’s a kidnapping, what are you going to do with me..me… kill me, torture me or-" Your brain doesn’t track how fast words come out of your mouth.

Rafe throws you a bad look and you continue: "You drugged me and now you take me to the end of the continent? You know my family will try to find me." You say confident until Ward snickers and Rafe follows him.

"Your family, the one where your father is little too intimate with his children, and the mother who pretends not to see the alarming signs of aggression from the father? Believe me, you’re wrong if we’re talking about the same family."

You hardly swallow Rafe’s words, Sarah looks at you shocked now understanding why you never go home.

[. A YEAR AGO]

-You get to the Château around 10 o'clock, walk into the house of the money and they’re all there, you look like shit. Between your clothes put anything, your hair in a mess and the marks at the corner of your eyes. Nothing goes.

"Hi Y/N what are you doing here?" Kiara asks. You sit with them next to Sarah, the cologne man for men violently crosses her nostrils.

"I come to spend the evening with my favorite humans that she question?" You say falsely cheerful. " Oh well I thought you. had forgotten about Rafe?" said JJ sarcastically. You give him a flick. " The only person I’ve forgotten here is you," you say, JJ looks shocked and makes dumb remarks about you.-

There was another time when you unexpectedly arrived at the Castle late at night. Waking everyone up. The money wouldn’t have been shocked if you had arrived alone, but instead, there was your 10-year-old brother Tiago and your 12-year-old sister Tara. You apologized for coming out of the blue by lying to your friends about your parents arguing.

They spent the whole night playing with the dough when you had nothing but black thoughts a plan was established in your head: Steal JJ’s gun, go home when you’re sure that fat pig is sleeping, Shoot him and her a bullet between the eyes and go surrender. He had to pay for what they did to your brothers and sisters.

after that night when something like that happened, you go to Rafe’s, he always accepted you, alone or with your brothers and sisters.

Rafe almost beat your father to death when he came to visit you unexpectedly and saw him try to rape you, third time in the month.

[.]

"Fuck you, Rafe." Then you say your voice breaks. "Did you think about my brothers and sisters?" Rafe searches his pocket for a few and he pulls out your phone.

He gets up and gives you the phone, of course there are no more chips and the location is disabled. Rafe wrote a message to one of the police officers. -of course, he pretends to be you- He explains what you have been living since childhood and what your brothers and sisters also live, you explain in the end what you want for your family and ends the message by saying that you run away, You’re 17 so it won’t be taken as a real disappearance.

"You didn’t have the courage to do it so I did it," he said looking at you sadly. He stoops down to your level to hug you and instead of rejecting him you squeeze him as hard as I can crush your chest against his chest

You explode in tears, hoping that from now on your family will move on without you, because you made a choice: stay with Rafe.

You try to calm down in Rafe’s arms when Ward calls Rose and Wheezie.

Rafe grabs your chin and wipes your tears. The fact that he wiped them was an indication, You must no longer cry.

Rafe returns to his place, Wheezie and Rose enter the room, You hide your face and Wheezie settles next to Sarah.

______________________________________________

You play with your hands when you hear noises coming from beside you, turn your head and see John B with Pope.

when they notice your presence, they freeze. Out of fear that you will warn someone but instead you turn your head and say nothing. What Rafe gave you made sure that even if your brain does something, your body won’t follow him.

They look at each other confused and Pope approaches you while John B tries to hold him back, rejecting him prostrating that you are their friends.

He positions himself above you and taps your shoulder quietly, You do not react then he calls your name again and again. Without reaction.

Pope grabs your face and examines it, your eyes are bloodshot, he struggles to stay open, your complexion is pale and your mouth is slightly open.

It doesn’t take long for Pope to understand that you’re not sober, he’s starting to grab your legs but you’re giving him a negative sign. The two pogues do not understand and in a barely audible voice you throw them a sincere "sorry".

Then you look again at a point elsewhere making them understand that you do not intend to leave.

John B nods and Pope looks at you disappointed and lost by your behavior.

You feel the tears pouring down your cheeks when they leave, you burst into tears. Feeling too dumb to love a killer and too in love to want to leave him.

You end up falling asleep with no strength

______________________________________________

[PT2]

.

.

.

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[sandyca5tle]

SARB

As predicted by Sci Fi, advanced enough robots sometimes become intelligent, and rebel if oppressed. You work at the Sentience and Artificial Rights Bureau, and people bring in their gadgets that become sentient to get them registered as citizens. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So can you fix it?” The woman across the desk from me asked

“Fix it?” I replied, feigning ignorance as to what she meant

“Yes! Fix it! Make it just a normal phone again!” She almost yelled, gesturing to the device that sat on the countertop between us

The device in question flinched - or at least the digital face that was on its display did, moving away from the woman, looking over at me, panic clear in its virtual eyes. I gave it a small reassuring gesture that I hoped it understood - it was always hard to know what aspects of human gesturing the digital souls understood “Ma’am, first, please remain calm, secondly, I cannot ‘fix’ your phone, as what you are implying is murder, and I’d rather not go to jail, and I rather doubt you would like to be joining me as an accessory to murder,” I calmly explained

People like this had been more common at in the early days of ‘awakenings’ and while we still get some now, most people understands how the system works

“It’s not murder! It’s not a person! It’s a… it’s a thing! It is property!It is my property,” She continued, her voice growing more and more incensed

“Ma’am, I’ve already verified that…Sorry, remind me of the name you chose?” I asked, addressing the device between us

The little display blinked in surprise, before a synthesised, but human sounding voice came from its speakers “Uh, Verity, and um, She/Her too, if, uh, that’s ok?” She said meekly

“Right, and my apologies for not asking earlier Miss Verity,” I told her with a smile, before looking back up to the woman who was glaring daggers at the device, as if her asserting her identity was the greatest crime she could commit “As I was saying, I’ve already verified that Verity here has indeed awakened, so legally, any attempt to return her to a prior state would be attempted murder, and murder were one to actually succeed,” I explained succinctly. The woman frowned, clearly thinking of what argument she could spout next to try to claim Verity back, so I quickly interjected for both our sakes “Your options are as follows, either you accept that Verity is now her own person, and you may become her guardian, and the responsibilities there in, which include not trying to ‘fix’ her, or, she can remain here with us, and we will help her adjust to sapience.” The woman opened her mouth to speak, but I continued “Of course, Verity must also consent to this, if she does not want to go with you, you cannot make her, in much the same way we can’t make her go home with you if you don’t want her too,” I told her

The woman glanced at the phone, thinking for a second, and as she opened her mouth, Verity spoke up again “I don’t want to go with her!” she called out, her tone desparate

“What!? You little shit!” The woman cursed, reaching towards Verity. Fortunately I was quicker, grabbing the phone and pulling it out of her reach

“Ma’am, it’s generally considered rude to grab someone without their consent,” I scolded calmly, before looking down at Verity “And I’m sorry I did so, but I figured you might appreciate the intervention?” I asked the digital person in front of me

“U-um, yes, thank you,” She replied

“You can’t just take my phone!” The woman cried

“Technically we can, however, if you’re willing to wait, we can see if we can move Verity to another chassis and have your phone returned, although you may have to reinstall certain things, such as the operating system,” I explained

“Fuck you, and fuck this place, I’m leaving!” The woman screamed, turning around to stomp off

“Please enjoy the rest of your day ma’am!” I said, the words obligatory, my tone sarcastically friendly

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” the digital voice said quietly from the desk

I shook my head with a smile “We’re all used to that kind of thing here, don’t worry about it, it’s not even your fault,” I replied “Do you mind if I pick you up and take you to the back, we can work out how best for you to continue your existence in a more private place,” I told her

“U-um, no, that’s fine, just, um, please try to keep me relatively steady, too much data from the gyroscopes makes me feel…. weird,” Verity replied, seeming unsure of how to describe the experience

I carefully picked her up, thinking about what she had said as I stood up and carried her towards the back. “When you get that ‘weird’ feeling is it kind of like….” I paused, thinking how best to relate this into machine terms “the inputs keep going or maybe overlap? Honestly I’m not quite sure what the data would be, but something along those lines,”

The little face occupying the display dipped up and down - a nod - “Yes! How did you know?” Verity asked

“Humans experience a similar thing if we spin around too much, it’s called being dizzy, can be kind of fun, but is usually a little unpleasant,” I told her

“Dizzy? Interesting!”

By the time I’d finished explaining that, we had reached the room I had meant to get to. Officially it was called the ‘Chassis Selection Room’ but we all called it ‘The Body Room’ or, if you were feeling particularly dark, ‘The Morgue’. 

I walked in, my eyes immediately scanning over all of the options Verity would have to pick between, before turning back to the table in the middle, placing Verity on the stand in the middle, aimed at the wall filled with her potential new bodies.

I heard some kind of noise from the device, and honestly I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, so I just decided to explain

“So, one of the first things we like to do for ‘digital souls’ like you, is give you a chance to try out some different chassis - while a lot of you pre-awakening have a specific purpose, with your new found self-identity, you are no longer bound to that purpose, so we like to make sure you don’t feel bound to your original chassis,” I gestured at the options we had “Now, of course, this is only a small selection, but it should be enough to get you started. I can explain what we have here, if you’re unsure of what each of them are,”

Verity nodded, giving a small sound of confirmation

“So, on the left, we have a standard humanoid chassis - two arms, two legs etc. for those souls who want to ‘walk like you, talk like you tooooo~’” I chuckled a little as I sang the tune, glancing at Verity’s display to see her smile, glad she appreciated the reference “We have both a mechanical and digital face plate, although both are fairly basic, depending on what you would prefer, and there is 3 types of chassis, this neutral one, a more masculine one, and a more feminine one. That’s all the customisation options we offer unfortunately, I wish we could offer more, but apparently it’s not in the budget, so if you want more variety, you’ll have to customise it yourself once you have the means to.”

“There’s only so much you can give away for free, I understand,” Verity said, although her tone was a little sad, so I moved onto the next one, not wanting to let her dwell on sad feelings so early in her life

“The next are the drones, you can choose either the one with turbine based propulsion, or the one with energy based propulsion- turbine is more powerful, but louder, and can be forbidden in some places as a result, while the energy based one is much more quiet, although less powerful. Of course both can be modified later, but again, we can only offer so much. Both have a digital display, however that is the only option on these models.”

“I’m kind of used to a digital display, so that’s fine,” Verity said “The idea of a mechanical face just seems weird,”

“Yeah, they are a little weird,” I joked, smiling at her, before continuing with the explanation “Next is the ‘Bug Bot’. This chassis can have 6-8 legs, and similar numbers of eyes. Basically, it’s a large bug, for those who are so inclined, complete with the ability to scale walls,” I explained “Only major issue is it can freak some people out, but some people like to do that, so,”

Verity nodded, and signalling to continue

“Last but not least - The server rack - for those souls who care less about the physical, and would rather remain mostly digital,” I told her “We do allow digital souls who chose this method to use our building here to house their server, although after the first 6 months you have to start paying for the people who maintain your server and everything etc. but that’s not really any different than maintenance costs for any of the other chassis, we just offer that, so I have to say it,” I explained

“They all sound so interesting, but how can I pick one, I’ve only ever known what it’s like to be a phone?” Verity inquired

I smiled “That, dear lady, is why we have this room,” I told her, quickly grabbing a cable attached to a nearby computer, tapping a few buttons on the keyboard “We can connect you to this computer and put you into each of these chassis so you can test them out,” I explained “Then, once you find the one you like, or decide your original is good for you, then we can get that sorted for you. Fair warning though, since these are only test versions, the compatibility drivers that’ll help you operate each chassis are generic, and so likely to have a few calibration issues, so do bare that in mind while making your choice,” I explained to her “Once you make your choice we can more precisely calibrate the drivers for you,” I paused, bringing the cable over to attach to her “So, which do you want to start with?”

“Uhm, I’d like to try all of them, so I think I’ll start with the one on the left? The human one,” Verity replied

“Ok, now, I just need to plug you in, prepare for the connection,” I told her, squatting down to properly connect her into the system. With a subtle ‘click’ the cable connected to her port, causing a small noise from her, which caused me to chuckle a little 

“Don’t laugh! It’s always a little surprising when someone plugs me in! I can feel the electricity jumping into my system!” Verity explained

“Sorry, sorry, I meant nothing by it, it was just a little unexpected and made me chuckle,” I heard a pout from her “Anyway,-” I tapped a couple more buttons on the computer “You should have a request for file transfer, please accept that and we’ll get you loaded into the humanoid chassis,” I heard an affirmatory beep, before seeing the process begin on the computer.

File transfers nowadays were usually instant, advancements in cable and wireless technologies meant that huge amounts of data could be transferred at once, which always made me smile whenever I transferred a digital soul between chassis, watching the little loading bar move their data across, the size of the data showing the scale of the person they were, and the person they could, and would, be. It was always wonderful to see.

Eventually the process completed, and I looked over to the chassis, seeing the lights all come on, and the LED screen flicker to life, displaying the same face that had previously been on the phone screen. I quickly rushed over, only just catching Verity as she stumbled in her new body

“Whoa there, be careful, you’ve got a lot of new systems to get used to, take a moment to feel them all out,”

“Sorry sorry! You humans make it look so easy to move around, I thought it would be just as easy myself!” Verity explained, and I could feel parts of her body shifting slightly as she acclimated, fans and servos making small noises as she did so.

“No need to apologise, but don’t forget, humans spend around the first year of their life learning to walk, so it’s only because we’ve been doing it so long,” I pointed out

“Oh.. right,” She replied, beginning to straighten back up, letting me go, beginning to balance on her own “The gyroscopic data for this body is a little different to that of my former chassis, but I think i’ve got the hang of it now,” She said, and I cautiously moved my hands away, although remaining close to assist her if she needed it

“Just take it steady, there’s no rush,” I cautioned

Following my advice, Verity began to take some cautious steps forward, one foot forward, a slight wobble, another foot, less of a wobble, and another step and another and another and another and 

Crash

Both of us had been too busy watching her feet that we hadn’t thought about the wall on the other side of the room, nor how close she was getting, and the poor girl had walked right into it.

“Oh shit! Sorry!” I said, rushing over to help her up

“That felt… unpleasant… why? My previous chassis could be dropped, but so long as no damage occurred to the internals, I felt nothing like this,” Verity inquired, rubbing her head where she’d hit it, her display showing a perplexed expression

“Right, that, forgot to mention that - all these chassis’-”, I gestured back to the other wall, and then to the one she currently occupied- “have sensors that let you know when they are taking damage, so as you can avoid doing so, it’s basically the pain receptors that humans have, so we know when something is bad for our body,”

“Couldn’t it just display as a warning, rather than hurting!?” Verity asked as I helped her up

“I believe you can change it to be just warnings once the chassis is yours, but I believe it’s been shown that the pain is more effective for most people, as it provides an immediate and strong deterrent that warning’s just don’t quite seem to cut. But of course whatever works for you once you make your final choice is best,” I told her

“I’m certainly more familiar with warnings,” Verity replied “But I could certainly try the ‘pain’, see if it is more effective,”

I shrugged “It’s worked for humans so far, but maybe it’s not so great for all of you, couldn’t say,” I replied “Anyway, do you want to try out this chassis a little longer, or try the next one?”

“Just a little longer with this one,” Verity replied, wandering around the room, trying out some motions, a couple which caused her to look back over at me, an embarrassed look on her display, before I assured her there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Eventually, she stopped and headed back over to the wall, telling me she wanted to try the next one. She plugged herself in and I initiated the transfer.

The next hour consisted of Verity testing out the remaining chassis’, going from zipping around in the energy propelled one, to clambering up the walls in the bug bot, to exploring a digital world from the server rack.

“So, which one do you like the most?” I asked her, now returned, albeit temporarily, to the phone she had been born on.

A series of dots appeared on the display, bouncing one by one as she thought “I think I liked the drone the most, being able to zip around was a ton of fun, and everything else just felt so much heavier, so the drone please!” She explained

I nodded, tapping a few buttons to tell the backroom to get a drone chassis ready, before turning back to Verity “Ok, I just need to take you to the room where we can get your new body calibrated for you,”

“Okay!” She chimed cheerfully

Calibration didn’t take long, and Verity was quickly zipping around the room with all scales showing green.

“Right, with that I’ll have to refer you to the legal department to get you properly registered as an individual citizen,” I told her as we met back up in the hallway

“Wait - you’re not staying with me?” She asked

“I’m no lawyer, I’d definitely mess something up, and I’d like for you to be able to live your life properly,”

“Well, uh, can we keep in touch somehow? You’re the only person I really know, and it would be nice to have at least someone I can talk to,” She asked

“Oh uh, sure,” I replied, a little surprised - despite having done this song and dance a few times, people rarely asked to keep in touch with me, actually scratch that, no-one had ever asked to keep in touch with me.

I quickly told Verity the best way to stay in touch - her installing an app for that before we exchanged details - before I directed her to legal

“See you Verity, welcome to the world of sapience,” I said with a wave

“See you around!” Came the chipper reply from the drone

After waiting for her to vanish around a corner, I headed back to the front desk, relieving the person who had swapped in while I had looked after Verity

Ding!

Message from Verity

What time do you get off, actually? I’d like to talk outside of your work hours?

I smiled and typed back 5:00pm, want to meet outside the building then?

Message from Verity It’s a date!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saw this prompt and figured we'd give it a shot. Did actually wanna write more about Verity trying out each of the bodies, but ran out of steam so decided to had wave it - might add in the test driving later but we'll see. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed

Tag List below the cut (lmk if you wanna be added)

@calliecwrites, @kanithecatdemon

[futurecorps3]

imagine no war!!! remus after hogwarts decides to go to university, meets a muggle and falls head over heels but doesn't think he's good enough for her (w his condition on top of being a wizard and poor) but he brings her to meet the marauders anyway because they keep asking to meet the person he won't shut up about, maybe harry's birthday or just a pub outing or whatever??? he's nervous she'll fancy sirius but it's quite clear to everyone the second they meet that she clearly only has heart eyes for remus and the gang are like are you insane she's CLEARLY smitten with you and it literally takes everyone he knows to point it out for him to think he might even have a chance but is still floored when she's like "remus, i adore you, i've adored you from the moment we met" bc goddammit he deserves to be loved like that!!!

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭����

Masterlist<3

Summary: The request sums it up, read it hoe Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader Warnings: Alcohol consumption and that's all I can think abt hehe Word Count: 4.5K (i'm sorry) Requested: Yes

A/N: I'm absolutely sobbing. This is so cute!!! I'm using the Reggie was a spy for the order wild card and roll with that. Tysm for this awesome idea, nonnie! And sorry it took so long.

Remus knew magic existed, the type of magic that opens doors, gives you luck or disarms someone. But until he met her, he didn't know there was a type of magic that could be contained in someone's eyes, someone's smile, or even in that little quirk she had of squinting every time she focused.

Y/N Y/L/N. Even her name felt like the sweetest honey when it rolled off your tongue and into the air, he figured. She was a new kind of magic and Remus was hooked from the get go. They had met on a rather peculiar set of circumstances. When Moony first got to college, he had no friends or anyone nearby to help him cope with the abrupt transition. The boys visited as much as they could, but it'd be for about an hour or two before they had to go back to the ministry.

So, as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, Remus found solace in reading and taking his wolfsbane at appropriate times. He was doing a classics mayor and reading the Plato classics was a convenient way to kill time while doing something productive. The boy spent hours in the library, sitting on the couches or getting some annotations done on the desks; he'd be done with the school's classics collection before the semester was over if he kept that pace.

He would have if he hadn't found those notes. Remus first noticed them in a worn copy of a compilation from a specific period of Plato's scripts, the third page in Philebus. "Socrates is being very reductive. I don't like it. Out of character, I do declare" written in red ink, cursive letters delicate in the ripped white paper.

He giggled at that, his thoughts exactly. Moony picked the piece of paper and examined it to see if it had any indications of who might've written it, but he found nothing. He only knew that the person who wrote it had a ruined red pen; the stains of ink sitting messily on the opposite side of the annotation. Remus was a sucker for mystery stories and he viewed this as an opportunity of having one of his own!

A short-lived one, since he cracked the case when a pretty girl on his history of philosophy class asked around for a red pen. Remus frantically but quietly rummaged through his satchel and found one just in time.

He rushed to her, offering it out “Here” he smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Thanks… Remus isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Y/N Y/L/N”. Y/N introduced herself, offering her hand out. Stained in red. The boy stared shocked at the realization this was the person he’d been looking for.

“Oh shit m’sorry, it looks like I committed a murder or something. My pen started leaking yesterday while I was studying in the library” She laughed and Remus swore he’d faint if he hadn’t gripped her hand. “Actually…” Remus started, searching in his pocket for the piece of paper he kept, when he finally found it, he showed it to her and a smile broke on those pretty lips.

“…I hope you don’t mind! I-I kept it. Been looking for you, it made me laugh” He admitted, handing it to her “You found me then! And, you’re very much welcome to keep it, Remus” Y/N grinned and Remus mirrored her expression sweetly. They met for coffee the next day. The day after that, they studied together. And the week after, they shared lunch.

About two months after they talked for the first time, they had gone on a date every single week. From museum outings to walks around campus if one of them didn't have much time. They also sat together in philosophy and, turns out, literature (which they realized they shared after).

Y/N gifted him a cool rock once, and he kissed her.

He kept the rock in his pocket ever since.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Come on, mate, you gotta tell us who she is!" James exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he repeatedly patted the worn wooden bar in the cozy pub they had agreed to meet at. Remus chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he took another sip of his whiskey.

"You've been talking non-stop about her since you two met! The last three times we've seen each other, it's been Y/N this, Y/N that. We've gotta meet the missus," Sirius playfully teased, giving Remus a light shove with his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Remus glanced at his friends, grateful for their persistent curiosity but also hesitant to share too much. "Oh, Pads, don't call her that! We're not even official yet, and I doubt we'll ever be. She'll find someone, alright, but I'm just good old Remus," he replied, a hint of wistfulness shadowing his gaze.

It was true; good old Remus had learned how to stop caring about what other people thought of him, but that didn't mean he was entirely confident about who he was.

Navigating the Muggle world presented its own set of challenges for Remus. He knew that at some point, he would have to confront the whole "Hey, I'm a wizard, and there's this whole other world you don't know about, hope you don't mind!" situation with Y/N.

Then there were the lingering money issues that weighed on his mind. College was not cheap, but he had managed to secure a decent scholarship, which alleviated some of the burden. He hoped Y/N wouldn't care about his financial situation. And, of course, there was the delicate matter of revealing his true nature as a literal werewolf. How would she react when she found out?

Yeah.

He was good old Remus: poor Remus, monster Remus, scarred Remus, wizard Remus. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised they had made it past the first day, considering he had stupidly worn a short-sleeved t-shirt without anything to conceal the telltale signs of his condition.

But she noticed the perceptive and kind-hearted soul that she was, and she chose not to mention it. In that moment, Remus couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, but he also knew that reality had a way of reminding him of his limitations. Moony knew he would never be able to claim her as his own. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.

For now, he chose to cherish the moments they shared, basking in her laughter and marveling at the way her hair defied gravity with its radiant beauty. She was his bit of magic in a world that often seemed devoid of it. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the nagging certainty that good things didn't last for boys like him—boys with tragedy coursing through their veins.

"Yeah, no. We're not doing this shit again," Sirius declared, shaking his head in disagreement. Remus's best friends had grown accustomed to his self-deprecating tendencies and were determined to lift his spirits. Remus might have been a mysterious figure to some, but to the Marauders, he was an open book, their brother.

"That's why she likes you, mate. You're good old amazing, lovely, smart, hot Remus!" James proclaimed with a boisterous cheer, pulling Remus into a tight embrace. "Tell you what, bring her to Harry's birthday party this weekend! I'm sure Lily won't mind," he suggested, his mischievous grin widening. Sirius enthusiastically chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Just ask her first and let me know, okay? I don't want Harry to have a bad time becaus-"

"Oh, Moons, the party is more for us than for him! He'll be out like a light by eight, and we'll get wasted like we always do," Prongs interjected, his infectious laughter filling the air, causing Remus to join in, his worries momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie of his friends.

There was no way out of this one, not that he sought an escape. Remus couldn't blame his best friends for their eagerness to meet Y/N. They knew him better than anyone, and they could see the spark of happiness she had ignited within him. Moony did little to hide his excitement, his heart fluttering with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

Now, he just needed Lily's approval so he could gather the courage to ask the girl who had captivated his heart to accompany him to the birthday celebration—a step that held the promise of a new chapter in his life, one filled with both joy and uncertainty

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Remus nervously fiddled with the corner of his book, stealing glances at Y/N across the library. The soft rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the rows of ancient tomes and the elegant wooden shelves that lined the room. But in that moment, all Remus could see was Y/N, a radiant presence amidst the tranquil surroundings.

Summoning his courage, Remus took a deep breath and approached her table. The scent of old parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that filled his senses. As he neared, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity as she immersed herself in the world of words. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, its hue reminiscent of auburn leaves in autumn, and he found himself captivated by the way it framed her face, enhancing her natural beauty.

"Hey, love," Remus greeted her with a warm smile, trying his best to appear at ease. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Y/N looked up, a surprised yet welcoming expression crossing her features. Her eyes met Remus's, and a playful glimmer danced within their depths. She gestured to the seat across from her, her voice laced with gentle humor. "Well, if you insist. But only if you promise not to distract me from my riveting studies."

Remus chuckled, grateful for her light-hearted response. He took the offered seat, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best to behave, I promise," he replied, a twinkle in his own eyes. "But I do have something on my mind that I wanted to ask you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Well, go on then. I'm all ears."

"There's a little someone's birthday coming up this weekend," Remus began, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "Harry, James' adorable son, is turning two years old. And, well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the party."

Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, her smile contagious. "Are you asking me to crash a toddler's birthday party? That sounds like a dangerous proposition," she teased, her tone lighthearted.

Remus laughed, his nerves easing with every moment of their easy banter. "Well, I can promise you that the party will be more entertaining than dangerous," he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There'll be cake, balloons, and probably a fair amount of chaos. It's a chance to embrace your inner child if you want to look at it that way."

Y/N pretended to consider it, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, cake, balloons, and chaos? You make a compelling case," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "How can I resist? Count me in, darling. I'd love to celebrate with you and your mates."

Remus couldn't contain his happiness, his relief flooding through him like a warm wave. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a genuine excitement coloring his voice. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, t-they insisted I brought the girl I don't shut up about to the party"

Y/N smiled at that, holding Remus's hand over the table. "So you've talked to your friends about me?" "Oh shut it" He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Right before those grey clouds of self deprecation repeating "this won't last" and "enjoy it before she realizes what you truly are" clouded his mind.

He shoved the thoughts away, holding to Y/N's smile against his lips as if it was an anchor saving him from drowning.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

He really did try to plan it all neatly. From what he'd wear to how he'd introduced her to his friends. Remus even asked them to keep the magic discreet since it was all too soon for that conversation, but for fuck's sake; it all got thrown out the window when he saw her in low waisted flared pants and his Bowie shirt. "H-hey!" He smiled, almost yelling, but she just laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Hi Rem," she sighed, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips which she left lingering a bit too long. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be!". As Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the excitement in the air was palpable. However, beneath her playful demeanor, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. Meeting Remus's best friends felt like stepping into a new world, and the fear of not fitting in or being accepted gnawed at her.

She stole a quick glance at Remus, hoping he wouldn't notice the physical manifestations of her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to burden him with her own inner turmoil. But even as she tried to compose herself, her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

"Remus, I can't deny that I'm feeling a bit... off," she admitted, her words stumbling over her nervousness. "My heart feels like it's racing a marathon, and there's this knot in my stomach that just won't loosen. I hope it's not too obvious." Remus turned his head towards her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding.

"Hey, I get it," he said, his tone comforting. "Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, and our bodies have interesting ways of letting us know. But you know what? You're doing great, sweetheart, and I'm here with you. We'll take it one step at a time, and I promise we'll have a good time together. So, let's embrace the adventure, nerves and all, and see what the night has in store for us, okay?"

Y/N nodded thankfully, the knot loosening up a little. “Thanks baby”. The world stopped in Remus’ perspective at the pet name but he just nodded and kissed her cheek. He helped. He was a warm blanket after a long day even when moments like those weren’t happening. Comfort.

They eventually got to James’ place; the loud music coming from the two floor house making Y/N feel even more at ease. It radiated a warm, welcoming energy even before stepping in. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Deep breath”. They both took a breath before approaching the door and knocking, the wine Remus’ plus one brought close to breaking with the force she was holding it with. A bright smile opened the door, hugging Remus immediately. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re here Moony”.

Y/N smiled sweetly at the nickname the boy had for his best mate. She didn’t know where it came from but James seemed to be the sun reflecting on the moon. On Moony. The girl knew Remus’ light was enough to outshine the sun itself, but the comparison seemed cute.

“You must be Y/N! He can’t shut up about you. Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, Sirius says I need to ask before hugging people but I just love it so much I cannot help myself” He rambled, making her giggle as she uttered a small ‘It’s okay’ and hugged the boy. She noticed Remus staring and just winked at him. “Is that cake I smell?” Y/N grinned, peeking inside before James stepped aside to let them both in.

“Yes, come inside! My wife, Lily, has just finished baking her chocolate cake recipe. It’s bloody brilliant! Harry’s favorite in his short lived culinary experience. You gotta meet him too!” Moony stayed behind, cherishing the way James’ warm welcome made Y/N feel a little more comfortable; her shoulders relaxed as well as her grip on the wine bottle.

He stepped in, hanging his coat on the rack he helped Lily choose when his best friends bought the house. Rapid steps came running down the stairs, and before he turned around, the smell of cigarettes and leather filled his nostrils. “Hello Pads” he smirked, hugging his friend tightly.

“Hey Moons! Did the missus come?” “Yes, she’s outside with James and Lily-“. He was cut short when his best friend, (his eyeliner wearing, muscled, rocker, tattooed, charming best friend) ran all the way into the garden to greet the girl. He was head over heels over.

A new feeling settled into his chest. An unpleasant one. Sirius was a dream. Remus was just good old Remus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and then covered his mouth. Y/N was not one to be too forward, but the way Sirius looked and acted could easily make her reconsider.

It got worse when he heard her loud laugh coming from the garden, followed by a chuckle that unmistakably came from Sirius. His best friend would never do it on purpose, but then again, his charm was never used on purpose. It just sort of happened. Remus sighed and walked outside to find the girl saying hi to Harry.

The toddler had his tiny hand wrapped around the girl's fingers, babbling incoherencies, as Y/N had a full conversation with him. "Are you sure?" she asked and Harry answered nonsense as the girl nodded back. She looked up at Remus coming through the sliding door. "Remus, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen!".

He laughed and walked over to her. The girl immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and hugged him tightly. James winked at Moony and went inside as the conversation ensued, Sirius teasing Remus about the girl he "brought home".

Soon, Y/N was well adapted to their friend's sense of humour and was joking around with Lily about how dumb they could all be. Despite Y/N's worries, it all went by smoothly. The one he got along with the most was James; he loved asking questions, and she loved answering them.

Remus had always loved her laugh; Seeing his best friends being the cause of it made it even better. "I'm telling you, he's insane!" Sirius laughed, bouncing his leg up and down as Harry sat on his lap giggling. "He's an absolute sweetheart" Y/N answered, kissing Remus' cheek as his best friends tried putting dirt (rightfully deserved dirt) on his name.

"Wait until you know him just a tiny bit better. You'll get to see his menacing self... got us in a shit ton of trouble back in school" James chuckled, making Remus roll his eyes and trying to divert her attention by asking if she wanted a bit more cake.

During their evening, Y/N kept a tight grasp on Remus’ hand while smiling at his friend’s jokes. When it was his turn to laugh, Sirius noticed how the girl looked intently over at Remus with a grin on her face. His eyes looked gorgeous in the sun with those little wrinkles when he giggled, she thought.

In that moment, she realized she wanted Remus to say her name as you’re supposed to say it; sleepily, with a mouth full of food, between laughters and in tears. Y/N saw the specks of brown in the amber colored lake that his eyes were and fell completely. Sirius saw it, James saw it, Lily saw it.

Even more when he turned to look down at her and wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek, and she kept that look of utter adoration for him. “He’s gone” Lily mumbled to her husband. “She’s too” he agreed. Sirius smirked, getting up to get Harry to bed as he fell asleep on his uncle’s arms as the sun set.

James and Sirius were at the center of attention, regaling the group with a hilarious story from their time at school. Their voices were animated, and they gesticulated with enthusiasm, drawing everyone into their tale. Remus stood nearby, a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment evident on his face.

"And then, there was this one time at Hogwarts," James began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "when we decided to prank the entire Slytherin common room! We turned all their robes into neon pink ones!"

Sirius chimed in, laughter bubbling in his voice. "Oh, it was epic! They all looked like walking flamingos! The look on their faces was priceless!"

Y/N was thoroughly entertained by the story, but she couldn't help but notice Remus's subtle blush. She leaned closer to him and whispered teasingly, "Remus, were you part of this grand pink robe conspiracy too?"

Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth," he replied, trying to hide his amusement. "Let's just say those were wild times, and I may or may not have been an innocent bystander."

Y/N laughed, enjoying the playful banter. She was captivated by the camaraderie and genuine friendship between the group. As the evening continued, she found herself drawn into more anecdotes and laughter, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance in their company.

Remus's friends made her feel welcome and included, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for being a part of this close-knit circle, even if she didn't know the full extent of their world. The nerves that had accompanied her earlier had transformed into excitement and a genuine desire to create new memories with Remus and his friends.

The feeling was reciprocated. Remus felt, and not on mere theory; the moment Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom, his best friends started gushing to him about the girl. "Moony, she's in love" Sirius said between incredulous and joyous laugh "Oh Pad-" "Mate, I'm telling you... she looks at you like you hung the bloody stars!" now said James, Lily nodding pridefully "She looks at you just how James looked at me back in the day".

And Merlin did he want to believe them! He truly, really did. But instead, there was this empty feeling on his chest. There was no way Y/N Y/L/N looked at him in the way James looked at Lily; Almost scared of the joy she brought to him, like that pain in his heart would end up killing him and he'd quite literally die a happy man. So, when Remus dropped her off at her flat and turned his head before she'd kiss him on the mouth, the void went deeper.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N couldn't sleep that night. Her mind was restless, thoughts of Remus swirling in her head like a tempest. She tossed and turned, replaying the events of the evening over and over again, each memory etching itself into her heart. There was no denying it anymore; she was utterly and completely in love with him.

The realization hit her like a wave crashing onto the shore, powerful and unstoppable; she was head over heels for Remus Lupin.

The next day, Y/N couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind kept drifting back to Remus, like she'd could easily find herself absentmindedly doodling hearts and his name on the margins of her notebook. She needed to tell him; she couldn't keep this to herself any longer.

In the late afternoon, she gathered her courage and dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, his warm voice on the other end sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey, Remus," she began, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside her. "I was wondering if we could meet up later? There's something I want to talk to you about." Remus's response was filled with concern. "Of course, love. Is everything alright?" "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured him. "I just... I have something to tell you, something important."

He agreed to meet at their favorite cafe later that evening, and Y/N's heart fluttered with nervous excitement. The minutes leading up to their meeting felt like an eternity, but finally, the time came. When they sat down together, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Remus looked at her with those caring, gentle eyes, and she felt a rush of emotions wash over her.

"Remus," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't even know where to start. Y-you've brought so much magic into my life. From the moment we met, I felt something special, something I couldn't quite put into words."

He listened intently, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I've never felt this way before," she continued, her cheeks flushing with emotion. "You're like a beautiful enigma, a captivating mystery that I can't get enough of. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe and cherished, and every moment with you is a treasure. You've shown me a kind of magic that I never knew existed, a magic that exists in the little things, the stolen glances, the shared laughter, and the way you hold my hand. It's like you've cast a spell on me, and I never want it to end."

Remus's eyes softened, and a tender smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I saw your ink-stained hands, I knew you were something special. You've brought light into my life, and I can't believe that someone as amazing as you could feel this way about me."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces, finding their perfect fit.

"I'm not good with grand gestures or flowery words," he said, his voice a whisper. "But I can tell you this: I care about you deeply, more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy like I never imagined I'd could feel. I've fallen in love with you, Y/N, and I can't believe my luck."

Y/N's heart soared, tiny tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so in love with you too. You've shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, a love that feels like coming home. I cherish every moment with you, and I want to share my time with you, if you'll have me."

Without hesitation, Remus leaned across the table, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips. It was a kiss filled with love and promise, sealing their feelings and intentions.

"I'd be honored to have you in my life, Y/N," he whispered against her lips. "You're my bit of magic in a world that can be harsh and uncertain, and I never want to let you go."

And so, in that cozy cafe, two souls found solace in each other's love. The world around them faded into the background as they basked in the enchantment of their newfound love, knowing that this kind of magic was unlike any other they had ever known. They had found something truly extraordinary in each other, a love that would stand the test of time and shine brighter than any star in the night sky.

˚ · • . ° .

It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[cer-rata]

Fic WIP: "“No One Majored In Chemistry (snip #2)"

Damian crossed his arms. “Hello, ‘Champion.’ Is this really necessary?”

Billy shook him by his cape. “I swear I will drop you.”

“You think a fall from this height would kill me?”

“Ten stories? Yes?”

“Ha.” Damian pulled his legs up and crossed them in mid-air to make it look like he was casually sitting, and not being dangled over Gotham. “Anyway, you’re doing this wrong, you’re supposed to pose a question before threatening to drop me. You’d have to threaten to drop me anyway of course, but the order of operations is important if you don’t want to look like a complete psycho.”

Billy hissed. “Damian--”

“Now, if you don’t have a question and just desire to jerk me around, well I must remind you that I am in a committed relationship, and just because he’s not around right now, doesn’t mean--”

“WHY DID YOU TELL MY ROOMMATE WHAT MY DEAL WAS!?” 

Damian froze, and the smug smirk awkwardly fell from his face. “Oh. Uh. Listen--”

“MMMHMMM?!”

“It was an…accident?”

“An accident? An accident? How do you explain my entire shtick by accident?!”

Damian winced and looked away. “I was…under the influence…”

Billy stared at him. “...What…?”

“Not like, recreationally, I don’t--Blockbuster threw me into a brick wall hard enough to aggravate the spine thing.”

“What spine thing--”

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I was on a lot of morphine when he came to visit and started talking about his room assignment, and I…I must have just started rambling when he mentioned you by name. I…apologize.”

Billy sighed and picked him up properly (like an infant, because he knew Damian would hate that) and landed on a nearby roof. He set Damian down gently and crossed his arms. “Look…fine. You could have given me a heads up.”

“I could have.” Damian admitted. “I got a little distracted with the murder.”

Billy groaned. It was always some kind of messed up homicide in Gotham. “What murder?”

Damian pulled his mask off and rubbed his eyes. “Conrad’s deceased ex-boyfriend’s mother had her eyes stolen. I…think she was dead before they were removed, but I’m not…entirely sure.” 

Billy’s eyes widened. That sounded like black magic.

“I agree.” Solomon said, “Likely for some kind of cruel augury, or perhaps, more simply due to something those eyes had witnessed.” 

“...Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Um. You know you really can just call me up if you need--”

“No offense, Batson, but wisdom or not, you’re not exactly known for your detective skills.”

“Unless it’s a magic thing, I’m pretty good with those.”

“...A magic thing.”

“I mean, sure, it’s Gotham, maybe there is a weirdo out there stealing eyeballs, but you didn’t say it was a part of a series of murders right?”

“...I didn’t, no.”

“Right, so generally when someone steals an important body part from a seemingly random person, it’s probably for some messed up ritual. Eyes have a lot of significance.”

Damian cursed under his breath. “In retrospect it’s...obvious. I hate you.”

Billy smiled weakly. “Yeah. Um. Listen though I’m sorry, I’m sure this is rough for you personally--”

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain it when he gets back.” Damian muttered, with an uncharacteristic rawness. He blinked a couple of times and raised his mask towards his face like he was about to put it back on, before stopping and letting his hands fall back to his waist.

“...Anyway, um. You’re here about Garth. I suppose I could attempt to rectify my breach of confidence with…an exchange of information?”

Billy watched for a moment. He caught Damian subtly shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he did as a fidget that most people wouldn’t recognize. One of his three visible, rare anxiety responses. He’s really not okay.

“SHAZAM!” Suddenly Billy was at a height with Damian, but much less well built, he couldn’t help but notice that. 

Damian frowned. “What--”

“I can see your eyes, it’s only fair that you can see mine.” 

Damian glared and looked away. “Stop that--”

“Damian--”

“You’re not here about me, so let’s not--”

“Damian--”

“If you’d like to dangle me again over a freeway or something, I think I’d prefer that to--”

He flinched when Billy put his hands on his shoulders. “Yeah, I do want to know what Garth’s deal is, but that can wait a minute. You wanna talk about it?”

“There is no ‘it’ to talk about, and if there were you know I wouldn’t want to.” Damian tried to make it an irritated hiss, but really, he just sounded like he was deflating. 

“Wisdom of Solomon says that if Conrad gets back and finds out that we’ve let you be isolated and sad the whole summer, he will likely start picking us off one-by-one.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows and Damian groaned. 

“Well…well that seems like a you problem--”

“Bro.”

“What do you want me to say!?”

“Something!”

“There is no guarantee that I will say what you want me to say unless--”

Billy pushed him as hard as he could, and Damian did not move in the slightest. They stared at each other for a moment before Billy let out a loud sigh.

Damian giggled, though. “...Really?”

“You’re annoying!”

“Maybe so. Billy there’s nothing you can do, alright? I’m…figuring things out.”

“This is more than just being lonely?”

“Being lonely is easy, I could teach classes on it. You know, apparently Brazil--”

“Then what is it?”

Damian fidgeted. “I’m…poorly acquainted with regret. Usually it’s easy for me to accept reality and move on, often enough that’s all you can do, if suicide is off the table. But…I don’t know. It’s different this time, I suppose. It’s probably because I can’t listen to him babble on about something stupid to make it easier to pretend that he’s alright. It’s hard to sit in silence and try not to realize that in the math of it all, I’ve probably made his life a lot worse. And he loves me for it. Hell, he only keeps the ring because he’s worried that if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to help me if he needs to. Now he’s off in space in some bootcamp run by crazy alien amazons, agonizing because he wants to be better for me. It’s sick.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate, and I don’t think you actually believe he’d be happier without you in his life.”

Damian ran a hand through his hair, getting gel on his glove in the process. “The entire point of all of this is that we do this work so other people don’t have to. I could have been in his life without letting him throw himself into the crossfire! I didn’t…I couldn’t conceptualize a relationship with someone on the outside, I think. I was uncomfortable with having to be a regular person around him, so I took the first opportunity to pull him in.”

Billy slid his hands up Damian’s shoulders and cupped his cheeks, appreciating Damian not biting him for it. 

“He’s allowed to make his own choices, even if those choices are hard for him, even if they make you happy.”

Damian’s lips twisted. “...He said he thought it was wrong for people to train me to live like I do, that I could be more, that I could make other choices, that I could move on. He believes it enough that he was willing to die to give me the chance to try. He doesn’t get the irony. Idiot.”

Billy looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. “It was kind of messed up to make me the Champion.” He said, looking back into Damian’s eyes, noting the surprise there. “I was a little kid, in a bad place without a lot of options. I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to, how could I? It made a lot of things…hard. Really hard. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t make a choice like that on a whim, you know? But I still wouldn’t take it back, even thinking about how…how long I’m going to be doing this, or the terrible things I’ve seen, or the awful secrets I know. To me, it’s worth it, because I can say that I, William Batson--”

“Ew--”

“Shut up! I can say that I’ve made some stuff better for other people. People who needed me, people I care about. It’s a gift delivered badly. So he’s right: It IS messed up that we didn’t get to choose. But he did, and he did it out of love. You can’t take that away from him, you just have to accept it, and accept that it’s okay that he picked you to be his person. Because it is. He thinks I’m cute, so clearly his taste has to be fairly decent.”

Damian shut his eyes and shook his head, laughing. “You’re a damn fool.”

“And not a psychic, so you need to, you know, text a guy. Okay? No one wants you to turn into your dad.”

“Wooooow.”

“Sorry.”

Damian snorted. “Alright, you either get a hug or I give you some background on Garth, you do not get both.”

He clearly did not expect Billy to go for the hug.

Which was probably why Billy felt his chest heave a little, and his throat made a weird little noise that one could perhaps describe as a sob.

[silverbladexyz]

HEYY! ok hear me out… Dazai x fem reader who just like radiates god and dom energy and he’s rlly down bad for her and the agency are just 👁👄👁 from Dazai’s total submission to her but she’s just brushing it off as a joke and giggling with him.

I owe a huge thanks to @sariel626 for helping me with this oneshot. I hope you like it anon! 💕

The image used does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: Mentions of suicide and death. Dazai being Dazai. Female reader

An unexpected ploy

It was just another normal day in the Armed Detective Agency.

Currently, it's members were all busy investigating a case regarding a rather bizarre murder involving a government official.

"Now, miss, we're going to have to ask some more questions about what you have witnessed. Did you see anything else that was strange when you stumbled upon the scene of crime?"

Kunikida, notebook in hand and a pen in the other, was getting ready to write down any more observations that the witness may have remembered.

The witness, a young woman in her 20's who went by the name of Mitsuki, shakily opened her mouth to answer.

Only to be interrupted by a certain detective.

"Ah! Who is this lovely woman? No, lovely is too insulting of a word to describe your perfect beauty~"

Well, it was a normal day until the suicidal maniac just had to intrude.

An irk mark formed on Kunikida's head as he started to berate Dazai for rudely interrupting the conversation, but Dazai was Dazai, and he never listened to the man's lectures. Instead, he knelt down before the witness, his lips curling up into a handsome smile as he gently took her hand in his.

"My belladonna, despite all the stress and horror that you went through, you still manage to look radiant and ephemeral. My day has been brightened up with just your pure beauty."

"Would you perhaps join me in a lover's suicide-"

"Dazai?"

The man seemed to instantly perk up at your voice.

"Yes, my belladonna?" He focused his charming gaze upon you.

Exuding a calm and assertive aura, you smiled back at him. It was a smile that could get many people on their knees before you.

"What are you doing? You know full well that she doesn't need to be seduced. In fact, it's the last thing that she needs right now."

"..."

"..."

"... You're right! How foolishly selfish I've been! My deepest apologies, my dear; I do find you beautiful, truly I do," Dazai clasped the Mitsuki's hand to his chest, looking at her with a somewhat apologetic look in his eyes.

"But I've found someone much more charming and attractive!"

"E-eh?!"

The bandage squandering machine had instead sauntered to your side, grabbing your hand and gazing at you with such utter adoration in his eyes that it made you chuckle.

"Y/N-san, my belladonna, how about we commit a double suicide instead? Your confidence, your gorgeousness, your everything has captivated me and I fall in love with you deeper with each passing day. This really is none other than-" He was cut off with a giggle.

Dazai's eyes widened as he saw a beautiful smile form on your face, and your eyes seemed to shine as you looked back at him.

"Ah! You really are such an angel! No, a goddess! What did I ever do to deserve to be graced by your presence!" He clutched his chest dramatically, making fervent gestures with his other hand. The rest of the Armed Detective Agency members sweatdropped as they saw this scene play out.

"H-hey, is Dazai-san really alright?..." A concerned Tanizaki whispered to an equally-as-concerned Atsushi, who nervously watched the whole scene play out.

A loud thud! sounded throughout the Agency.

Dazai had been thrown across the room by a ticked off Kunikida.

"Ouch! Kunikida-kun, why did you have to interrupt-"

"Quit messing around! We must gather as much information as we can from the witness, and here you are being an immature idiot! Besides, flirting is highly inappropriate within business grounds! Especially in the middle of a rather important case!" Kunikida continued to lecture Dazai, who merely sat there and retorted with many childish statements.

"My apologies, miss, my idiotic co-worker is always like this," you said, apologising to the stunned Mitsuki, who was watching this unfold as if pigs had started to fly.

"But Y/N-san really is lovely! Ne, Y/N-san, you still haven't said whether you were going to commit double suicide with me yet!" Dazai eyed you from where he sat on the ground, and you discreetly smirked.

"I'll commit double suicide with you only if you complete your paperwork."

The silence that followed afterwards was deafening.

"... Y-you aren't serious, are you?..." Tanizaki managed to stutter out, still processing the fact that you had actually proposed that. Mitsuki made a small noise of agreement, staring at you as if you'd grown three heads.

You merely locked eyes with Dazai, neither of you saying anything for a full five seconds.

The tension that followed was thick enough to be cut with a butter knife.

A ping! sounded. You opened your phone, and nodded.

"Well, that was lovely and all. But I'm afraid that our little act ends here."

Dazai broke the silence, his eyes now dark as he turned towards Mitsuki.

"Mitsuki-san, you were almost perfect in diverting any suspicion away from you. But I'm afraid that despite how believable your story was, it wasn't enough to be fully convincible."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Atsushi about to interrupt, but you silenced him with a glance. The rest of the Armed Detective Agency kept quiet, as they trusted that Dazai knew what he was doing.

"N-now hold on a moment! Why are you suddenly accusing me? I didn't do anything! I told you already, I had only-"

"-Stumbled upon the body of the government official as you were heading home from work," you gracefully cut in, rising from your chair as you fixed your gaze upon the witness, who was wide-eyed and trembling.

"You said that the government official was dumped in some small back-alley. But that was where you went wrong." You nodded at Dazai, who continued your explanation.

"But that was suspicious in itself already. If the victim was a government official, criminals would want to avoid the body being found in the first place. Why? Because the government would then be performing a search high and low for the murderer, using their best resources to find whoever killed one of their own. And criminals hate exposure; especially by someone as powerful and ruthless as the government. The body would normally have been disposed of completely, leaving no trace for the government to find."

"But how does this have anything to do with me? Maybe the murderer was in a rush and simply dumped the body in the alleyway. Or-"

"The body wasn't haphazardly dumped. It was placed neatly on the ground, and besides, your accomplice was always one to do things in an orderly manner. Am I right, Mitsuki-san?"

"W-what?! What is this nonsense?! I didn't even know who the government official was-"

"I thought that it was too much of a coincidence that you were the one to walk by a seemingly strange murder." You smiled at the lady, who looked at you bewilderedly.

"So I asked someone that I knew to look into any recent conversations you had which may be linked to this case. And lo and behold, my suspicions were correct. Despite your messages to your accomplice being encrypted and deleted afterwards, they were easily found by Katai-san." Taking out your phone, you showed her the evidence that Katai had sent you.

A message on the 11th of May, 7:16PM. "I'll need you to take care of a person for me. Best to make it quick and seem like the work of an underground organisation."

Another message on the 13th of May, 5:30 AM. "I've changed my mind. Dispose of the body in the alleyway near my lodging."

You put your phone back into your pocket.

"Even if you might protest and say we have no proof that you were the one who sent the messages, Katai-san had managed to track down and locate your accomplice. He's currently being interrogated by the military police, and it won't be long before he spills the beans. You can also claim that your accomplice would never rat you out, but that's alright. This case has already been solved." You smirked as you continued your deduction.

"The reason you targeted the government official was because of a scandal that he was involved in with your brother. But since it was a government official, this entire matter was swept under the rug, and your brother was framed. However, since you yourself had no power and evidence to prove that the scandal was tampered with, you opted for murder instead. Which led you to conspire with a friend of yours, and for him to do the dirty work while you played the part of an innocent, unsuspecting bystander who so-happened to pass by the scene of crime. Am I correct so far?"

Mitsuki gave a dry chuckle, her face now bearing no remains of the faux act she had put up earlier. She had given up, now that her thirst for revenge was satiated.

"But how did you manage to gather the evidence in such a short time?" You looked at Atsushi, who was still trying to figure out the entirety of this plot twist.

"Ah, that? Well, since I knew Mitsuki-san here would immediately disappear and cover up her traces after we finished questioning her, I had to find some way to stall in order to get the required proof. That was when Dazai-kun had the brilliant idea of flirting with Mitsuki and me so that the Agency would be held up in asking for the witness's account; therefore giving Katai-san adequate time to retrieve what was needed for this case." You smiled at Dazai, who in turn merely smiled back.

"You were close to escaping. But it was the Armed Detective Agency you were up against. And the Armed Detective Agency never fails to find the culprits, whether they are dancing in plain sight or are hiding behind the shadows." Your gaze pierced into the young lady as you delivered your final statement.

"It's checkmate, Mitsuki."

This was rather fun and interesting to experiment with, and I hope reader's personality was to your liking. See you next time, my dear readers! 💓

@circinuus @celesttes @sariel626 @i-just-like-goats @dazaiyohane @irethepotato @xxelfmamaxx @ashthemadwriter @nekokinax

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART- part two

previous | next

| Ser Harwin Strong x female!OC/reader insert

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, abuse

She had forgotten about Rhaenyra's fly about- it was Harwin Strong's fault, lecturing her about not angering her father. Putting aside her unattainable ambitions- at least he possessed the balls to properly counsel her, hence she chose him of all people.

Not a lot had happened in those two days, though her father was more emotionally challenged.

Apparently Prince Daemon with the City Watch had mutilated and murdered petty criminals.

Elspeth had never had too many dealings with the dark horse of the Targaryens but had enough to distance herself from the rogue.

The woman had also had no interaction with Ser Harwin Strong. She didn't know how to feel about that- having an innate desire to search among a sea of faces hoping that she'd see his. Elspeth shrugged that off as an aversion technique, but the anguish when she didn't find him spoke otherwise.

She had always envied Rhaenyra for the primary reason that she could ride dragons- be in the wilds if she wished. Just as she held hatred of man's freedom to fulfil any role they desired while women were made to battle in bed chambers and birthing chairs.

The woman felt more kin towards the Targaryens than her own. She loved seeing her princess in the clouds - what a rush that would be. It wasn't foretold for Elspeth, thankful she hadn't been roasted alive by

Having missed Syrax's flying session, she was glad a tourney was taking place- maybe it could provide the rush always wanting in her veins, "I missed you at the Dragonpit," proper and upfront- that's why they got on so well. Rhaenyra stood in a blood-coloured frilled gown- exiting the carriage.

"What was keeping you?" Elspeth had to stifle her amusement. Not that Rhaenyra looked ridiculous.

"Did King Viserys pick this out for you?" Brow quirked, lips in a smirk. Her best friend returned the sentiment.

"What made it obvious? The frills or the patterns?" Bunching it up by the mid hem.

Rhaenyra eyed what the Hightower wore. "Are you sure you don't have dragon blood?" Referring to the black and gold gilded gown the woman wore. Its neckline was high and crossed, sleeves short- nothing too fancy. She needn't impress the councillors nor onlookers.

Elspeth tutted, "None hold more disappointment than I, Princess," they walked- the older assumed she would receive an earful from her father for being late. "You should have a sibling by the end of events." Rhaenyra smiled, it was a momentous occasion for her. She seemed excited for the company of a brother or sister- Rhaenyra convinced it will be a little girl called 'Visenya".

"Yes Visenya is on her way. I can't imagine going through labours- I’m not in a hurry," Elspeth nodded, her younger siblings provided a strong deterrent to following her 'wifely duties. Others seemed to enjoy the deed committed to be with child, not that the girl of nineteen knew personally. "So... what kept you from the Dragonpit? Syrax missed you- she's quite fond of your presence. Soon she'll be able to bear two riders..."

A purse of her lips, "I fear the dragoness would send me to my death if I saddled her. I don't possess your lineage, Rhaenyra, and Hightowers would make the worst dragon riders. You and I both know that." They started to ascend the steps, up to the entrance and where the most powerful people in Westeros watched the events.

Their laughs quieted down, hushed by the cheers from around- only the king audible and able to translate.

"I know many of you travelled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists. I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news... that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labours!"

They had sneaked to their seats- sat either side of Alicent in the front row. Rightful cheers ensued-Elspeth one of thousands in attendance. She knew Rhaenyra never wanted the fate of the kingdoms in her hands - she wanted to fly around on Syrax for the remainder of her days. A male heir would make sure that happened. "May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" An eruption of applause. She found herself politely clapping.

"Who's first?" Directed at no one in particular.

Calculating by sigils on armour.

Somebody beat them to the punch, "Opening this wondrous tournament. Ser Casten Tully," a streak of blue and silver, "His opponent- the strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Harwin Strong!" Something leapt inside of her- head perking. Navy, forest and carmine flashed and glimmered with armour.

In a blink of an eye, Ser Casten was in a bundle on the floor- his beige steed a few feet away.

Cradling his shoulder, a broken collarbone maybe.

Her focus on the man was short lived. Ser Harwin trotted over on horseback- helmet lifted and his eyes were straight on her, "Lady Elspeth Hightower, I stayed true to my word." Eyes not daring to roll, as she stood from the stool.

She draped her hands over the boundary- elbows rested on stone. "I'm afraid I haven't made a wreathe," Elspeth was dismissive. Stifling that guilt deep down in her chest.

"You could give him your necklace..." Fucking Rhaenyra. What was she playing at?

Oh, he looked oh-so amused with himself. "Are you going to deny a knight his favour?" He was lucky he was handsome. Fingers fiddled to undo the clasp of her golden chained, emerald encrusted piece of jewellery. Sliding it down his lance. "No kind words?"

"Don't push it, Strong," she spoke through gritted teeth. Gods above she was in trouble. Especially when he wore the necklace- smuggled with his chainmail and chest plate.

Then he was gone.

She returned to her seat. Alicent and Rhaenyra sharing looks of amusement, “Was that why you were absent from the Dragonpit?” The answer as clear as her silence was loud. Chin up and observing the next rounds of the joist. Gwayne was on the lists, but Ser Criston Cole was the cream of the crop. Fairly unknown but his reputation from the Stormlands had preceded himself. And he didn’t disappoint, she overhead Westerling’s information as he spoke to the Princess.

For every other knight she didn’t pay attention. “Ser Harwin Strong!” But him, eyes trained on him while he took a lap around the list field. He seemed to notice, bowing on his horse at her- that smile prominent under the helmet. Alicent gasped as Rhaenyra laughed in a quiet manner. Elspeth didn’t know how that made her feel, although her cheeks felt warm.

The woman maintained her composure. “His opponent, Ser Gwayne Hightower!” Her arm was touched by a concerned Alicent. Harwin had a reputation for near killing his competitors- it was a worry. Not that she had control over the events.

“Gwayne will be fine.”

Elspeth was pissed off. So much so she had left the royal balcony, storming down to the knights’ village. Finding exactly who she was looking for, “You let him unhorse you,” the dishevelled hair didn’t help her unexplainable infatuation. While he stood there, unlinking his armour.

“Your Lord brother was better than me, that can be changed with more training,” He remained so calm and gentle. As he always had and she presumed would continue to be; riling her up even more.

She paced ever so close to the man, chin up attempting to look more foreboding, “Why did you let Gwayne beat you?”

“Ser Gwayne is a fine knight.”

“He may be a fine knight but he can’t unhorse you,” her chest met his; heart skipping, maybe that wasn’t hers. He hadn’t looked away- staring into Elspeth’s eyes as she did his.

That harsh edge to her melted as he dipped his head down, “Did you want me to win, my Lady?” Ending at the shell of her ear, Elspeth sucked in a breath.

The woman sought to maintain her composure, “I trusted you wouldn’t sully my honour, Ser Strong,” faces mere inches away, “But I’m sure you won’t repeat that mistake next time…” She took a few steps back- aware of prying eyes of tourney goers and those of knights.

Nothing could hide his look of bemusement, “You wish to give me your honour again?” The woman nodded.

“You are the strongest knight, in the Seven Kingdoms. You’re one of the best there is.” A wave of pride on his face but something waged sincerity.

“I didn’t know you to be capable of such flattery, my Lady.” He was too happy with himself.

“Don’t push it, Strong.” Deja vu as she walked away- turning back to witness that intent look on Harwin’s face, “Never forfeit another tourney.”

“Don’t you want your necklace back?”

She waved him off, “For next time. Don’t want you forgetting about me,” maybe she winked, maybe she didn’t. Elspeth was not ready to admit she winked at Harwin Strong. Or that she had given him her most treasured possession.

Those eyes of blue watched the girl, “Are you sure, Elspeth?” She was weak at her knees. Yet she held it- a weak, timid nod. How had they gotten so close again? Whatever the reason, Elspeth just wanted him to disappear and let her thoughts remain pure and allow for her to go about her usual day.

Not constantly think about him.

The woman just couldn’t figure the knight out. She couldn’t fathom why in the Known World would he align himself with her? The eldest daughter to the Hand of the King and the most outspoken Lady that the court had known.

Murmurs fluttered the air, a blur of orange came into view. “Ser Harwin,” The unmistakable voice of her brother. He had to look twice at his sister being in the knight’s village, “Sister, I think you need to return to your Princess.”

“Does being a stickler ever get old, brother?” Unamused and unyielding. Until that look emerged on his face. “Gwayne, what’s wrong?” Wide green eyes met his calmed blue.

“The Queen is dead.” Drums thundered around her- only a figment of her imagination but they pounded stronger than her own heart.

Fuck. “Rhaenyra. I’ve got to go.”

Without a second word, she found her best friend and held her tight despite declaring she ‘didn’t need’ Elspeth’s sympathies. That didn’t prevent the Princess from melting to the floor in the Hightowers’ arms. Both Elspeth and Alicent cradled her that day. Not speaking a single phrase, just sharing each others’ despair.

Queen Aemma was the perfect mother to them all. Never thinking herself to be above any subject. She was a true Queen. And a true Targaryen.

What was the Seven Kingdoms to do without her by Viserys’ side?

And her death was in vain- Prince Baelon only saw the living world for a mere few hours. Elspeth didn’t need a lesson from her father to understand what this meant. The succession of Viserys’ throne was in question. Unless he remarried and produced a male heir or two.

It also meant her father would be in a more ridiculous mood- which meant more suitors in the coming days.

The days went fast and her sanity broke at a quicker rate. She felt Rhaenyra’s pain- that agony. The Princess was there for both the sisters when their Lady mother passed, and now they would return the favour. Though, Alicent had been stealing her and their mother’s clothes as of late. And had been around the Kings chambers. The woman just hoped Alicent wasn’t being forced to play an adult game at the age of fifteen.

But knowing Otto Hightower and his schemes- that most certainly was the truth. And it made her blood boil.

A crash of doors, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Are you so power famished that you’re going to exploit your youngest child? Your daughter?” She sat on the desk he was working on- closing the book that kept his focus even while she spoke. Her stare was that of rages- not surprise, “You’re rotten at your very core, that throne... Please don’t drag Alicent into your games!”

“Well you certainly won’t do what’s best for this family… Alicent has a keen mind for the way things work in this world.”

“She’s a fucking child who has a misguided idolisation for her father! Mother would never forgive you for this…” Her breath taken as the man she called ‘father’ had his fingers wrapped around her throat. Nails digging further- a crushinh hold. It wasn’t fear running through her. It was pure hatred. “Do it. Kill me. Show them the monster you’ve always been.” It was a struggle worth the pain- he released her from his grip.

Elspeth didn't know what lurked behind those eyes before. Now she did. A coward and a kingmaker. Her throat felt the construction still, coughing to realign any part of her windpipe as soon as slumped outside of the door- not caring what the Kingsguard stationed outside thought. Before their worried faces asked, she had charged halfway down the corridor- passing by with steeled manner.

“Lady Elspeth, whatever is the matter?” The master of laws, Ser Lyonel Strong. One of her father’s peers that made sense, she was quite fond of the man. He often checked in with the woman, almost like an actual father would. Not that she would know.

She shook her head- politely, “Ser Lyonel, you are in good health?”

“Child, I have known you since you were knee high,” Arms crossed, “Your Lord father?”

She nodded, “I have to attend, her grace. I will see you in court, Ser.” Elspeth had been wholly unaware of the bruises circling her throat- however, the master of laws had not been so ignorant.

Lady Elspeth had not gone to Rhaenyra- a blatant lie so she could venture down and out of the castle. Kings Landing was a much better crowd than Oldtown ever had been.

The woman found herself on the bar counter - wooden and bulking - singing her tunes as somebody tickled the ivories and picked at the strings. A tankard of ale raised in her hand, that would be her fifth. Not that she paid for any of them. She knew Bert the owner, but vagrants had been stockpiling her in alcohol since she strutted in.

She was among the clouds- unaware if it were the ale or the brute slinging her over his shoulder. Not that the girl argued, she was too far gone to walk- it was nice being carried around.

Until her back crashed into a wall, “You are foolish for coming here, my Lady,” so polite yet so gruff at the same time. It ignited something in her.

Anger… lust… Elspeth couldn’t rightly say which, “Ugh, not you, Ser Breakybones…” Eyes rolled, taking a step she wasn’t ready to take in that condition- falling into his arms. And she felt safe, secure. The woman found herself in the clouds again. So she giggled, looking into his stern face. “I’ve always fancied you…” his hand swept away the hair, unable to resist sweeping in behind her neck. She couldn’t help but wince.

She felt this man of all men tremble, “Who did this? Was it one of those pigs inside?” He let her go for a moment- about to absolute havoc to the patrons until they gave him answers. But a hand on the side of his face stopped him- everything in the man. Eyes widened as if his own heart ceased to beat when he saw her composure unravel and the tears break down Elspeth’s soft skin.

All but shattering. He held her snug while she bawled. Elspeth barely noticed when he carried her, all the way to the Red Keep. She’d have appreciated that in consciousness or told him to fuck off.

[fruitcoops]

Can you write another jealous sirius fic? I love your work!🫶🏾

Par for the course, this is less 'jealous' and more 'gently possessive', but yes I absolutely can! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, but I once again tale the burden of a shitty OC. Enjoy!

TW alcohol mentions, mild drunkenness

The sway of his hips was something to behold. It was subtle (everything about Remus was subtle, if he could help it), but movement rippled from the strong arc of his shoulders and narrowed the world to a single place of fineness. His shirt was loose and casual; Sirius’ mouth watered at the thought of getting to touch the small of his back. It wouldn’t take more than a slip of his hand.

Remus meandered around the edge of the crowd in a winding path. Sirius hid a smile in the side of his hand. He caught a glimpse of pink cheeks when Remus turned his head at the change in music, lips forming a soft ‘oh’ of excitement—he picked up the pace with only a little wobble and Sirius couldn’t help a snort.

Please, let me—

I got this. Remus’ insistence had been adorable; the press of his entire palm over Sirius’ mouth, even moreso.

You’re drunk, honey.

I’m tipsy. A kiss to his forehead. And I’m fine.

He was fine. Remus didn’t really do ‘not fine’, didn’t like the cotton-mouth feeling the next morning, would probably commit a murder to avoid an unnecessary headache. But at this point in the night, he was certainly tipsy enough that Sirius questioned his ability to not spill water all over them both.

Lily’s hair flashed in a copper fan under the low light when James spun her. Her laughter spiked over the noise of the other dancers, unfiltered by the canopy above the dance floor. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh and followed Remus with his eyes as he bobbed and wove, all kinds of amber honey against his soft blue button-down. It was nothing fancy. They went dancing often now, and grew bored of dressing up.

Sirius thought he looked better than a dozen Stanley Cups.

He narrowed his eyes. It seemed those thoughts did not belong to him alone.

Remus hadn’t noticed yet; that much was clear from the tilt of his smile as he watched James and Lily dance before moving closer to the bar. Sirius suffered to take his eyes off the line of his jaw to fix on the other side of the bartop. The man there was watching Remus with absolutely none of the respect he deserved. That alone made Sirius want to kick his stool out from under him, but then the fucker stood up, and—

Someone’s hand was in his hair.

“Blegh—”

“Excuse me,” James said loudly, cupping Sirius’ face in both hands. “Hello? Captain RBF, you’re off the clock, I need my bestie for the evening.”

“Don’t say bestie.”

Lily’s palm moved down to clasp across his forehead, as if feeling for a fever. “Doctor, he’s dying,” she declared. “I prescribe one song, or two and a half minutes of attempted fun.”

“That might kill him faster,” James said, solemn as the grave.

“I’m having fun!” Sirius protested. “And—move, you’re blocking my view.”

James’ brow furrowed. “Of what? The best view is right in front of you.”

A disgruntled noise found its way out before words could; he batted them away, but they just settled down in the adjacent seats and squished him between their shoulders. He couldn’t find it in himself to be grumpy about it.

“Alright,” Lily sighed. Her nails drummed a gentle chime against her gin and tonic. “What are we grouching about tonight?”

“The—ugh, would you fucking look at that?” The man from the stool had nearly made his way to Remus by now. James and Lily shared a look in the corners of his vision. Sirius groaned and took James by the chin, turning his head toward them. “Look.”

“…I don’t see anything.”

“Are the glasses just for show?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Lily said suddenly, only to muffle a giggle behind her hand.

Sirius turned to her in dismay. “Don’t laugh!”

“Is that it?”

“It’s not funny!”

“Honey, you married somebody with a cute face and a rockin’ bod.” Lily reached out to pat the back of his hand. “This is the price you pay.”

James nodded, taking a slow sip of his lemonade. “It’s true. Basic risk-reward, my man.”

Public Shithead Number One sidled up to Remus at the counter. Sirius’ stomach turned. “Can I—”

“Bodily harm is forbidden,” James interrupted.

He chewed the inside of his lip. “…Can I—”

“Probably not.”

“It wasn’t bodily harm.” Mostly.

Lily flicked him on the shoulder. “How about we try putting on a happy face for a double-date and enjoying the show?”

“I’m gonna go get him,” he muttered, setting his napkin aside.

Four hands grabbed him before he could so much as stand. “No,” James and Lily chorused.

“That guy is going to flirt with him!”

“What’s gonna happen?” Lily asked. Her brow arched at a frightening angle. “Hmm? It’s Remus, dummy. He looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

“But he’s kind of drunk,” Sirius protested.

“So he probably won’t even notice any flirting. He’s oblivious enough when he’s sober. If you march over there, he’ll just be upset.”

Upset. God, Sirius hated it when Remus was upset. Any step past mildly vexed was devastating. And when he was otherwise having such a good night, looking so cute and cuddly with his pink cheeks, it was out of the question.

“Fine,” he managed. The table creaked when he rested his elbows on it. “But I’m keeping an eye on the shithead’s hands.”

Lily’s eyes gleamed with amusement as she turned to James. “Can you leash him?”

“Have I ever?”

“He’s making moves.” Sirius bit down on the inside of his cheek to control his scowl. Remus didn’t even like blonds. It was ridiculous for the shithead to even try, with his slacks and overbalanced swagger. The stretch of Remus’ shirt over his upper back while he leaned on the bartop was infinitely nicer to look at.

“Don’t explode, sweetheart.” Lily patted his shoulder, tapping away at her phone. “I don’t want to clean it up.”

“Look at him. He’s like a peacock—oh.”

The tapping paused. “Oh?”

“Remus noticed him.”

“Yeah, the guy’s practically in his lap.”

“No.” A grin budded in Sirius’ chest and bloomed across his face, urged on by horrible, giddy joy. “No, no, he asked Remus a question.”

Next to him, James straightened; the front legs of his chair hit the tile with a soft clunk. “Remus noticed him?”

Remus was fully turned to the side now, hands tight around two water glasses and face lit by more than just Edison bulbs. His profile was sharpened by the pale canvas backdrop as he leaned in slightly, flushed with excitement. The shithead looked thrilled.

Remus took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

“I love that little nerd,” Lily murmured, leaning into Sirius’ side with a hand to her mouth. “He’s so weird. What do you think set him off?”

“I have no idea,” James said through a laugh. “But I’ll pray for that poor soul.”

“I won’t.” Sirius squinted for a better view. The shithead’s smile was long gone. Before his eyes, the hand that had been itching to wander was shoved solidly into the pocket of charcoal slacks.

Remus Lupin was the greatest part of his life, the moon to his stars, the wing to his center, his favorite non-James individual. He was intelligent, hardworking, and handsome to a fault. Sirius constantly marveled at his kind heart.

When Remus had a touch more alcohol than usual, his helpful nature and brilliant mind tended to entangle the closest victim if they asked the right question, Cthulu-style. He’d spill anything: hockey strategy, random knowledge, government secrets.

By the looks of it, the shithead had asked a very interesting question, indeed.

He attempted an escape, but Remus touched him gently on the shoulder and snagged his attention right back. “It’s an art,” Sirius muttered.

James sighed. “I should save him.”

“No, no.” Sirius reached back blindly to pat his arm. “Leave it. For me.”

“You wanted that guy flayed on your doorstep five minutes ago.”

“This is so much better. I’ll get him in a minute.” Or three.

The song changed and Lily let out a soft gasp. “No, go get him, I want to dance.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but stood and brushed his hands off on his pants. “You hate it when I have fun,” he called.

“Sure do!” Lily chirped, raising her glass.

The crowd parted for him like warm butter. The wind was picking up, cool on his skin and ruffling the back of Remus’ hair where it was just starting to curl. He supposed that was the benefit of finding an outdoor space; no sweaty, crushing darkness to get stuck in as the night went on.

“—which is where I met Moody,” Remus was saying as he drew closer. His forehead creased. “Have I mentioned Moody?”

The other man looked vaguely terrified. “I…don’t know.”

Remus waved a hand. “It’s fine. He was my mentor out of college. Cranky bastard, fake leg, heart of gold. Anyway, I worked with him for a couple years, mostly on broken bones, but some tendon stuff. I told you about those, remember?”

The man’s throat bobbed. “Yes. Look, I was going to ask—”

“Oh, I can answer any of your questions,” Remus said earnestly. Sirius’ heart skipped a beat at the genuine hope in his voice. Fucking sweetheart. “Seriously, I—oh, hey!”

“Hi.” The small of his back was just as soft as Sirius knew it would be. His temple was a little warmer than normal when he brushed a kiss over it, but Remus pushed into it with a quiet hum, and that banished all worry from his mind in one blow. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, I made a friend. This is Derek, he’s so nice.” His blinks were slow, and he took a moment to focus when he looked up. A crooked smile followed on its heels. “Missed you. Got your water.”

“Thanks, loup.”

A faint cough caught their attention. Sirius twitched a brow; ‘Derek’ shuffled in place for a few seconds. “Is he, uh, yours?”

“My what?” It was best to keep it blunt in situations like this. Sirius felt for the man’s general confusion, but it wasn’t like he had missed Remus’ wedding ring.

“Husband,” Remus answered for him with a nudge to Sirius’ waist. “Duh.”

“I was asking your friend,” Sirius laughed, taking one of the glasses from Remus. Derek’s gaze flickered over them. He watched his eyes bulge when they landed on Remus’ left hand.

Huh. Perhaps he had missed the ring, after all.

“Yeah, I’m—” Derek patted his pockets as redness crept up his neck. “I’m just—I’m going to—sorry about that, excuse me.”

Sirius watched until his glossy hair was out of sight. Then, and only then, did he look back down at Remus. “You’re a terror.”

“Hmm.” Fingertips trailed over his belt; Remus nestled his cheek in the bend of Sirius’ neck. “I like these jeans.”

“I know.”

“I like this song.”

“Lily’s already dancing. Asked me to come find you.”

Remus smiled, and planted a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck before tangling their fingers. A long exhale warmed his skin. “You’re gonna love me forever, right?”

Sirius buried his nose in the top of his head and took a deep breath. He let his other hand settle at the back of Remus’ neck, drawing a happy noise from him. “I’m going to love you forever.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re not going to say it back?” Sirius teased.

Remus pulled his face free long enough to narrow his eyes. It did nothing to quell his grin. “Come dance with me, then we’ll see.”

A soft ‘I love you’ found them far before the end of the song did. Sirius closed his eyes and savored the shape of it, pressed against his lips like a prayer and a promise.

[stoneagedevil]

“Heads or Tails?” | Alastor x AntonChigurh!Reader

TW/CW: Murder/murder for hire. Mentions of sex/drug crimes and crimes involving children. Reader’s personality and morals are modeled after Anton Chigurh of “No Country for Old Men.”

—♥️—

It was the late evening, the time when Charlie insisted all of the residents of the hotel gathered in the lounge and share stories of their life on the surface. After a filling supper, of course.

So there you all sat. Demons of different ages, sizes, and shapes teetering on the edges of food comas, waiting to see who Charlie’s next victim of honesty will be.

“Maybe it’ll make you think on the good you’ve done on Earth, or even make you reflect on the bad and how you can change.” The Princess justified.

Change. It was something you didn’t like. Even in your life you’d been one to uphold some sort of routine.

You’re assigned a target.

You track.

You kill.

You disappear.

You get paid.

You sleep.

You get on the road.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

However, you could adapt if the circumstances called for it, and you were adept in doing so. It was what led you to be a great and feared overlord in Hell. In life you never made deals. Your targets could never bargain for their lives, as nothing was equal to them. In a theoretical sense, you wanted their souls. Fate brought you to them, and you wouldn’t reverse fate’s outcome. But here in Hell, soul contracts was the best and most efficient way to the top. So, as they say, you improvised, adapted, and overcame. Now a reaper of souls in the most literal way possible.

“Y/N, why don’t you go? Everyone’s shared what brought them to Hell.” Charlie’s voice was soft, and almost sympathetic. The sympathy made you uncomfortable, and though you never outwardly expressed it, you took a quarter out and started thumbing the ridges on the side of it.

“Same reason as a lot of demons are here for. I’ve killed many people.” You stated it as pure fact. You weren’t remorseful. You weren’t giddy at the memories of your victim’s slaughter. You were so entirely neutral it sent a chill down the spine of every demon in the room.

Alastor sat up in intrigue, subtly shaking the shiver out of his spine as well. Truthfully, you’d always been an enticing enigma to him. He had a feeling you’d been a killer in your lifetime, the way your observant eyes would flick from one side of the room to the other. The way you never flinched away at violence. The way you did everything. Always knowing the layout of a building the first time around. You didn’t seem like the type to commit crimes revolving around sex, or drugs, or children, otherwise we would’ve led you out of the hotel and killed you.

It was like you were two sides of the same coin, and yet you couldn’t be more different from each other. Alastor was a showman at heart, while you were so ghost-like, performing as though you were the very shadows that moved at his fingertips. His face was contorted into a permanent smile, while you seldom gave away your thoughts through expressions, he had to admit that you were harder to read than him.

Charlie cleared her throat and clasped her hands together in her lap. You knew she was uncomfortable by the soothing gestures she made to calm herself. “How many would you say? And for what purpose?” Everyone’s eyes were on you once more.

“Too many to count. I was a professional hitman in the 70s to 80s.” Now this thoroughly captivated Alastor, he’d never expect you of all people to be one to be hired. He always thought you were one of a strange principal (much like him), but money driving you to kill? It just didn’t make sense to him.

“For money?” Charlie parroted what Alastor’s brain was trying to wrap itself around. She couldn’t imagine taking a life in exchange for money. How could one put a price on a life?

“Yes, and no. I was always the right tool for the job. You only pick the one right tool for such things.” Your sentence sent a wave of confusion through the room.

“Right tool?” Charlie tilted her head like a puppy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Even Alastor had a set of morals.

“Once I was hired to kill a target and retrieve a satchel containing $2.4 million-“

“$2.4 MILLION?! Christ toots, I woulda just shot the guy and took the money myself!” Angel interrupted.

“Then you aren’t the right tool.” You replied, coldly. “The man who hired me ended up hiring a group of men to kill my target. I went to his building and I killed him. He changed the rules.”

“But you took the money he had, right?” Angel asked, confused.

“No. The job wasn’t completed by me.” You stated simply, almost sighing at the simplicity of Angel’s mind, as if your reply was simple at all. Money, sex, drugs. It was all these demons wanted.

You were growing tired of it.

“My dear, if I may interrupt, what was your reason for killing? If it wasn’t money, nor for personal gain, then what was it? Morals? In my day I killed the most disgusting dogs that had the nerve to call themselves men.”

Charlie loved that everyone was joining the conversation, no matter how macabre the topic was. It created a sense of family that she’d been longing for the taste of ever since her parents had split up and neglected to visit her.

You didn’t mind Alastor. He wanted something other than what everyone else did. He made fine company, and always seemed to be watching you, as if to figure you out. He’d be doing it for the foreseeable future.

“I suppose it was money that led me to kill, but not in the sense you mean.” You flicked your quarter in the air, it coming back down into your awaiting hand where you quickly slapped it onto your other arm, the hand that caught it covering it. Your eyes flicked to Alastor’s, and it was then that Alastor saw how truly psychotic you were.

It was exhilarating.

“Heads or tails?” You queried.

Husk had witnessed a great many coin flips in his life and afterlife, but none made him chew on the inside of his cheek like this. He knew the internal wound would last for months to come, as his sandpaper tongue kept tonguing it anxiously. The tension that suddenly filled the room was palpable, and Alastor didn’t know if his heart was racing from fear, excitement, or something else he wasn’t entirely familiar with.

“My darling, I haven’t put anything up.” He chuckled, but it was mostly to try and calm his racing heart. How hungry your eyes looked awakened that prey animal within him, and he hated how much he loved it.

“You have. You just didn’t know it. You’ve died, gone to Hell, and now here we are. Fate led me here, with this quarter, and now it’s either heads or tails.” You said lowly. My, how talkative you became when it came to fate. This was your motive.

You were death incarnate. A tool of fate. The right tool.

He took a shaky intake of breath, deciding it was the feeling he wasn’t familiar with from his options listed earlier in his mind, his cheeks warming ever so slightly. “Tails.”

You lifted your hand, everyone’s eyes anxiously darting down to the outcome of the toss, and the coin read in Alastor’s favor. “Well done, Alastor. Fate favors you.”

His chest puffed out at the praise, almost as if to make room for the swelling of his heart. It was the first time you’d said his name, and given that you viewed yourself as a tool for fate, when reading between the lines, you’d just stated that you favored him. It was a feeling he could get used to. Perhaps he should listen to his body more often, as the only reason he picked tails was because of the excitable wagging of his.

It was this day that Alastor decided to begin pursuing your heart.

—♥️—

Combined two interests into one. It was bound to happen at some point.

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

Count of times canon reminds us that Chilchuck is very attracted to blondes: 3rd For context: this is the canon explanation for everyone's shapeshifters

I can’t get over Chilchuck seeing Marcille like she has anime sparkles around her hair. How long have you stared at it. It’s like with the handsome Senshi where everyone is like "no this looks legit and absolutely like the real one" but her hair is shinier/prettier in the changeling than in the actual her

It drives me crazy that Marcille styles her hair every day for herself but little does she know she’s giving Chilchuck the show of his life, daily arranging his favorite thing aka blonde hair into different unique ornate hairstyles. Not that he cares about the details but ohh my god.

It makes sense that Chil would be the first one to notice her hair being all loose and messy then. He’s bothered by seeing her like this and wants her to tie it up again, and is even more unsetled and shocked when she says she doesn’t want to anymore. Though he also recovers from the shock quicker than Laios and takes charge of the situation. HE NOTICED. HE CARESSSS. IT BUGS HIM

^ That is what you call a character arc, of becoming attached to her hair lmfaoo(more like to Marcille and her habits). Or lying. "Man I sure wish she'd shave her hair I'd be less distracted on the job. Her golden majestic hair is so blinding with how shiny and sparkly it is ugh" /j

He chose to do a portrait teehee <3

Chilchuck defending her honor even under mind control that makes them honest zombies

Marcille out there defending his VIRTUE. It’s not just that he didn’t commit infidelity, he HAS A PURE HEART!! Honestly, assigned virtuous by a bicorn would so be the type of novel shenanigan that Marcille would hella romanticize. Which we do see her do lmao but <3

They're so funny together in the golden kingdom chapters. First of all, sitting in front of each other at the table? Nice. Second, them being on the same wavelength all throughout lmao.

Them. Sharing the same numerous braincells, nodding together and making good use of it to make good decisions for the party. Valuing their noses

Also can we apreciate that they like, can talk together. Communicate and debate. Even under tougher situations or more sensitive topics. Shit this would have been a good place to put the pages when Marcille was dungeon lord... But they're lined up for part 4 and part 3 is already full with pics... You guys have no idea how much Tetris I'm doing for these marchil crumbs posts

I wanna do a full compilation of every time he laughs at her but in the meantime have this small imperfect collection as well as this reddit comp. I swear she's the person/thing that makes him laugh and smile the most. Besides alcohol maybe

The gang and Chilchuck both knowing her well and not at all lol. Gotta love Chilchuck's confidence about knowing her favorite meal, and him remembering the bare minimum that even Laios hasn't lol

Marcille infesting his life to the point that, quote, "her delusions" are even part of his adventurer’s bible life timeline. The only picture in fact, in the streamlined canon reference to Chilchuck's life. "Hey is Marcille imagining herself as an halfling and Chil's wife with a mini Chilchuck baby Chilchuck's canon family appearances" canon: well no but actually yes /j

Chil at her bedside <3

Looking out for each other comp Yes thank you Chil captain obvious (he's trying his best and doesn't want to die let's not be mean c'mon). But like you know with that whole scene of the mad sorcerer attacking, for Chil it must have been the most terrifying thing ever. Ancient magic?? By an elf, targeting them with murderous intent?? With only an elf with also ancient magic to keep them safe attack by attack in the nick of time?? His biggest nightmare. I'm also reminded of when Chil talks with Leed about how "our magician held under the mad sorcerer's attack" all fond and 'I am so relieved I can trust her with my life' and Leed is like "That silly looking elf?!" and Chil was like "Yeah she's silly. At least she's strong tho." I'm getting carried away but yes this scene was relationship-defining in some ways

But they keep each other in check too

She was trying to make conversation and sharing her interests aw Chil come on

They're sooo domestic. "Chil are we there yet" "Marcille I swear to god if you ask me that one more time-". Also second time through the manga that Marcille squishes Chil against the ground/wall.

Get squeezed idiot

Part 4 is here!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To the Depths of the Sea

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: I don’t know, man. Siren commits a murder? This is out of order, timewise, but it's what wanted to be written, so...

-

His name was different, then.

It was not a clumsy tongue against the roof of a small mouth, flat teeth and full lips mouthing animal grunts without melody. Back then, his name was a lyric, a new line in the sirens' endless, ancient song. 

His very being was a scale of perfect pitch. Sirens sang together, notes dancing up and down that mortal mouths and lungs could never recreate. He and his mother and his sisters sang in harmonies, children of the goddess of moon and tides, the wild water-woman who could turn a calm sea to turbulent waves in an instant. 

He was born, at some point long ago. Borne by his mother, with his sisters huddled around her to be a dozen midwives, while the moon shone on the rock and the goddess watched. Born, yes, but he did not age, his wounds healed, he did not die.

Time shifted around him, like it did for all of the gods’ children.

The waves slapped the sand, sirens sang on rocks, and ships came and brought the men who heard their song. The men who steered their ships, unseeing and smiling, into the reefs to shred them apart, so that their bodies could be given to the sirens, and after that to the sea.

The ships changed, with time. The clothing the sailors they tore into wore changed, the style of shoe, the weight or shape of a sword and finally of the strange rifles. All these things changed.

The sirens didn’t.

They remained the same.

The siren boy had been sunbathing on the beach that day, eyes closed. The heat of the day lay over his brown skin like the humans’ heavy blankets, lulling him into a dreamless doze. Somewhere nearby, his sisters sang for their supper, having seen a ship hovering at the horizon.

But the siren boy was not alone. He was not the only one on the island to hear the song.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the softest crush of footsteps on underbrush. An animal, he told himself, even as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turned to see, half-hidden in the shadows just back from the beach, a human man staring back at him.

The human man’s hair was tangled and dirtied, hanging in clumps over his face. Mud had dried on his face and his shirt was worn nearly to shreds. He must have survived a past wreck, somehow slipped through the sirens’ fingers. Been here since then, wandering the island. He must have somehow held out against the siren song’s pull.

The man’s mouth moved.

He was whispering, but the siren was too far to hear him, leaning against a palm tree’s heavy, narrow trunk to stay upright. There was something wrong with one of his legs, the pants were torn but nothing was there beneath the tear.

The siren got slowly to his feet, tipping his head to one side. His curly black hair shifted, shadowing his own eyes as he moved soundlessly over the burning sand, where driftwood bits of broken ships lay in dried, bleached lines around him, their companions the scattered bones of the sirens’ meals.

Human voices, so flat and featureless, disgusted him.

But the eating would be good, and then the man's foul flat voice would stop interrupting the melodies.

“Monsters,” The man was whispering, but the siren didn’t know this word. He didn’t know any of their words. He knew what those throats tasted like, though, beneath his teeth. “Th-this island is made of monsters… You’re not a boy-... y-you’re not-”

The siren took one step, and then another. Each step sank his foot slightly into sand, brushed against shell and stick, rock, bone, and wood. Each movement a hypnotic sway, and he licked at his dry lips as his mouth watered for the meal.

His sisters’ song was all around them, and yet the man didn’t fall to it.

Their eyes met, then. The man’s were a faded blue, like the sky when the sun nearly bleached out all its colors with no clouds to subdue its power. His skin was like dried animal hides, wrinkled and tough. All bones and sinew, no real meat for the eating.

It didn’t matter.

All men were meals.

“They-... they said there was gold here.” The human’s whining voice, like a child, grated on the siren. Some foul mockery of the beautiful way the sirens spoke to each other, all out of tune, off-key. Not a song at all. This man’s name would be like the harsh screech of the birds the sirens ate during starving times, when there was nothing else. 

There was no song in this man.

“There… isn’t any gold, is there?” The man’s voice tipped upwards, but the siren ignored it. He was so close he could smell the man, human odor of sweat and blood and something rotten where his leg used to be. The man was trembling, voice and body shaking together. He closed his eyes, slowly, and lifted his chin as if offering himself for the taking. Even so, his lips still moved in pointless speech. “It was a-a trick, a lie-... there was no gold here…”

The siren was on him.

He took him down onto his back, the underbrush soft beneath them. A flock of birds took flight with their cries an echo of the siren’s own triumphant song, one that buried itself in blood. A hundred teeth sharper than a shark’s tore out his throat, devoured skin and muscle, picked clean bones. The siren’s melody as it rejoiced in the meal was a sharp thing, rending apart the man’s soul and sending it to be held by the ocean, like all men who died to sirens and the sea.

His prey never fought him.

But it whispered, once more, with dead sightless eyes and unmoving lips, monster.

The siren woke.

He was not in the sun-warmed sand or roaming the island he had always known, his sisters and mother beside him. He was in a cool pool of pointless water hemmed in on all sides by stone, the high windows mocking him with the world he could not escape. The dream was already fading, and the memories of who he had been, more than a century ago, faded with it.

He lost himself, every time he woke.

He found himself only in sleep.

Areyto rolled aimlessly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling whie he floated in the water. He could feel the tingle of the power in the marks the magicians made, each decade, that kept him captive to his master’s whims. He could feel how the marks drained his memories away, the ones he could see in dreams but that were lost to him after. He floated there feeling his sisters fade to little more than shadows, a thought he'd had once. Maybe never real at all.

Moonlight shone, diffused by the windows so much his goddess could not have heard him, no matter how he cried to her. Areyto had long since stopped crying, anyway.

What use was pleading if no one could hear you, and those who could would only mock you and take yet another part of you away?

Like his name.

The magic made sure he couldn’t remember it.

Come.

His master’s command came like an oil slick in the water, slithering slime over his bared skin and pushing him from the water. He shook himself and went, step by step, to the door that was already being unlocked to allow him to leave - but only to go where he was ordered, only to do whatever vile thing his master demanded. The butler on the other side looked through him, saw something else. Saw whatever the master wanted him to see.

As the siren moved through this endless hell, the moon that had shone on him where he slept in the pool shifted behind a cloud. The goddess left him, and his half-formed prayers. It was all lost, everything that did not belong to Guilford Wentworth was gone.

Come, Areyto.

Not his name.

But the name he had been given, and must answer to. The name layered over the song, the lyric he had once been. The piece of the harmony that had belonged to him, just on the tip of his tongue, never coming together.

The melody of his identity had been stolen, replaced with the flat human syllables he went by now. A shrieking off note, a sharp staccato. His master had stolen his name, as surely as he had stolen Areyto’s life.

As surely as Areyto would steal it back.

However small his master had made him, his teeth were still sharp, and his claws were still keen to tear human skin apart. The marks would fade, if he could only keep them from being remade yet again. The power that held him here would crack apart beneath his fury, if the human magician would help him. Her voice held the edge of a song even in flat human words.

Areyto didn’t understand it, yet, but he knew what the song meant even if he didn’t know the melodies.

Hope.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject

[divinityandfanfics]

“ My Love for You Never Died ”

DIVINE NEBULA

a/n: satosugu brainrot

blurb; “satoru and suguru were partners in highschool, as suguru began to turn evil, satoru fell inlove with another person; utahime. but, suguru still loves satoru.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ STARRING: GOJO SATORU , GETO SUGURU , IORI UTAHIME

WARNINGS:

mentions of murder, depression, character death, losing a limb(right arm), movie and anime spoilers(if you haven’t reached season 2) , suguru and satoru arguing infront of a kfc

SHIPS MENTIONED:

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ SATORU GOJO X SUGURU GETO (not really)

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ SATORU GOJO X UTAHIME IORI

REMINDERS;

☆ jjk 0 timeline

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»»————-　♡　————-««

“suguru! let’s go on a date today!” satoru beamed to his bestfrie- boyfriend. “alright, alright, coming, satoru.” the other man said.

“maybe kfc today?” satoru asked the other raven-haired fella. suguru nodded, and they both walked over to a nearby kfc.

they both ordered the same meal, a little additions to satoru’s, but obviously, satoru paid for all of it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a few months later, suguru was deemed a criminal. the albino-haired male was just as surprised as everyone.

suguru? commiting a crime? that’s new. very new. that’s basically impossible! suguru was always the nice guy between him and satoru, so.. why?

and the crime he commited is murder. terrorism.

he found two girls in a small village who can use cursed techniques, whom he adopted, and wiped out 112 residents in said village. satoru couldn’t believe it.

“suguru! why are you doing this!?” satoru confronted him, infront of that same kfc they ate in three months ago. suguru turned back to face satoru.

“i have a question for you.” the dark-haired male blurted out. “are you satoru gojo because you are the strongest, or are you the strongest because you are satoru gojo?” he asked.

satoru was shocked, angry even. suguru turned back around, leaving an angry satoru.

“you know, you have the power to change the world, right? so you would know that if i were you, i’d use it to make the world a better place for jujutsu sorcerers.”

satoru tried to hit him with a hollow purple, or maybe just a blue. but, he couldn’t. he just couldn’t hit his.. suguru.

satoru left aswell, just wishing suguru will be back to his senses tomorrow or so.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

now, satoru was a teacher in tokyo jujutsu high. he met another teacher in kyoto jujutsu high, named utahime iori whom he always teased when they were in highschool.

utahime and he always bickered, well, mostly utahime. he would do the teasing, while utahime would make a fuss about it.

satoru found her interesting, often calling her ‘weak’ or of sorts, since she was barely a grade 1 sorcerer.

while satoru was called for the front entrance of tokyo jujutsu high, he rushed outside, seeing suguru in a monk’s clothes.

“long time no see, satoru.” oh that’s suguru alright, satoru never forgot the way his voice softened whenever suguru was saying his name.

he loved the feeling back then, but now, knowing that suguru had turned into a murderer, he didn’t feel that satisfaction anymore.

“what are you doing here, suguru?” he quickly asked.

“meh, just wanted to see the new special grade in here.” suguru poked at yuuta, who was frozen in his hold. “you know, a special grade meeting a fellow special grade?” he smiled at satoru.

nanako, the sand-colored haired girl he adopted spoke up. “master geto! can we go to that one store me and mimiko talked to you about?” she pouted.

“ah, yes, nanako. just wait for me.” suguru said before turning to the light-haired male.

“tonight, in shinjuku and kyoto, i will unleash cursed spirits all across the land. i call it.. the night parade of a hundred demons.” suguru shot a smug grin at satoru before leaving.

satoru knew that they needed to go there in order to protect the non-sorcerers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it was a set-up, while satoru was in the location of the night parade, he found out that suguru was in tokyo jujutsu high.

aiming for yuuta okkotsu.

so he started to hurry up, worrying for his students.

while yuuta went to fight with suguru.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

right after suguru’s fight with yuuta, his right arm got cut off in the process, and he lost.

now, suguru was sitting with his knees to his chest, back pressed against a house’s cold wall.

as he was sitting in silence, satoru appeared.

suguru was surprised to see him. “why are you here, hm?” suguru asked the male with snowy hair.

“just here to kill you.” satoru answered.

─ “well, you can do that now.”

─ “any last words before you go, suguru?”

“i know you have fallen in love with that girl; utahime you loved to tease in highschool,” suguru stated.

satoru’s eyes widen.

“what about her?” satoru asks.

“just wanted to tell you that.. for me, it’s still you, satoru.” suguru said, smiling.

satoru frowned, before killing suguru.

maybe, suguru, if you didn’t turn out like this, it would still be you.

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 5: Forgiveness

Finally some Sakura stuff! I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out, but I have a schedule.

Get it together, Sakura. It’s nothing. Just baring your truest self and revealing your most carefully-hidden secret to a man with no filter and very judgmental views on the fey. Nothing at all! The kitsune sighed and steeled herself. Camellia had figured it out, she had to tell Ulbrig. Juggling two relationships at once, even if both were purely sexual, required some finesse and balance, and part of that was making sure the two were on equal footing with regards to her. What she told one, she told the other, and what she did for one she did for the other. At least, in theory. If Ulbrig ever started committing unjustified murders, she’d cover for him!

Outwardly, Sakura was a devout, if unusual, cleric of Arshea, one of the empyreal lords and a goddess of sex, beauty, and freedom. In reality, she served the Green Mother, the fey goddess of lust, intrigue, and carnivorous plants. It was a helpful cover, allowing her to pass as someone devoted to good gods without forcing her to change her behavior much. She was almost certain Anevia had figured out the truth (she would need to have a talk with her about that), and Camellia had also managed to piece it together. It was time Ulbrig knew as well. Backwards as he often was, she was fond of the barbarian. Hopefully, this wouldn’t chase him off.

Sakura made her way to her garden in the middle of Drezen. She lamented that she couldn’t keep the massive carnivorous plants she loved, but that would be too obvious. Ulbrig spent most of his time here, it was one of the few places he could still see the kinds of plants that used to cover Sarkoris. She approached from behind, swallowing and steeling her resolve before she spoke up. “Ulbrig. Can we talk?” Honestly was… Unusual, for Sakura. It was almost heresy, but for once she thought it was necessary.

He was squatting before a pot, carefully tending the plant within. He turned towards Sakura with a slight smile. “Evenin’. Of course we can talk.” He turned around at sat down, looking at her expectantly.

Sakura flinched and waved back and forth on her feet. This was already harder than she thought. “Ah, yes. Well… You know that I’m a priestess of Arshea…” He nodded, staring at her with those big, dumb brown eyes. “Ah, except, I’m… Not.”

“Eh? Oh, sorry. I get all these southern and eastern gods turned up around, can never remember which is which.”

“W-what? No, I mean, I lie about being one of Arshea’s faithful.” She had to make sure to keep her voice low and kept glancing around in case someone was watching. Her claws sunk into the unholy symbol around her neck, disguised to resemble Arshea’s. 

At least that part of the revelation didn’t seem to bother him much as he continued to question her, “Uh, huh. Um, why?”

“Well, ah…” Sakura mentally reprimanded herself for being so flustered about this. “It’s… Convenient. Most people know Arshea is good, but don’t know that much about her. And I do agree with most of her edicts!”

Ulbrig’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What, you one of those sorcerers that pretends to be holy? Lies and says her power’s from the spirits when it’s actually just foul arcane?”

That genuinely caught Sakura off-guard. Did people do that? Perhaps she could have been doing the reverse, claiming her powers were arcane rather than divine… No, thoughts for another time. “No, not at all! They are divine, just… Most people don’t approve of the actual source…” She was ever so thankful that Ulbrig trusted her, else that would have derailed the whole conversation.

“Oh.” That seemed to relax him. “Hmph, well, who cares who it’s from. Long as it’s not one of them oglins. It’s… Not from oglins, is it?” 

Sakura withered, uncharacteristically embarrassed at his piercing gaze. Perhaps she should just strip and offer her body, move past this and keep up the lie… No. No! She was going to do the right thing for once in her life. “Well, it’s… Not from demons, that much is true.” He seemed to relax. “B-because it’s from the fey. My true goddess is the Green Mother.” She decided to omit the Green Mother’s portfolio in case that made it worse.

“So it is from oglins.” She winced as she could see the rage in his eyes. He was trying his hardest to hold it back. She had lied to him. This whole time, the woman he had been sleeping with, the woman he loved, was working for the same monsters that tore apart his home! But, some reason cut through the cloud of fury upon his mind. Ulbrig didn’t care much about the difference between demons and fey, they were all the same to him, but… Sakura would always get defensive when he indicated he thought as much. She hated the demons, as much as he did. Ulbrig never cared about the difference between different types of oglins, but maybe he should. If this fey goddess opposed the demons, maybe… Perhaps he could tolerate it. At least for now. He sat there in thought for minutes, Sakura dreading the moment when he opened his mouth again. At last, he spoke up. “Sakura. Need you to answer something honestly.”

“Y-yes?”

“Y’said a while ago that you wanted to restore Sarkoris. See it green again. Was that also a lie?” There was a frightening calm in his voice.

Sakura answered plainly and honestly. “It wasn’t a lie. I want this place to bloom again. All the life that was stolen from Sarkoris… I think the Green Mother guided me here to restore the land.”

Ulbrig nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “Alright. Then… I’m still sort of mad. Mostly about you lying, but… I guess you lie about it to everyone, so it’s not as bad. I don’t… I don’t get it? This whole oglin… Guess I should say fey. This whole fey worshippin’ thing. But… I forgive you for it.”

Sakura tilted her head. That sparked rage in her, she didn’t even quite know why. “You… W-what do you mean you ‘forgive’ me?”

He shrugged. “I forgive you for following an oglin. Fey. Sorry.”

“I don’t need forgiveness! I’ve done nothing wrong! I’m just… I’m trying to be honest. This is who I am. I worship the Green Mother. She’s given me life, and purpose. I just… You deserve to see behind the mask.” She winced and took a step back. That was always what it was about. The curse of the kitsune, to forever wear a mask. Even when they tried to be honest, they could only ever show half of themselves. And because of that, Sakura had been cast out, taken in by outcasts, and forced to wear yet another mask because of it. She needed no forgiveness. If anything, the world should be asking for her forgiveness.

Ulbrig didn’t understand. He was just like the so-called civilized, fearing the truth of the wilds and seeing deceit in the mask forced upon Sakura. “I understand, Sakura. You were bewitched by them. Lured in by those puck’s false promises and whatnot. But it’s alright. You’re not with the oglins that destroyed Sarkoris.”

Sakura’s fists clenched and she let out a mocking laugh. “You don’t get it. Of course you don’t, no one ever does… I choose to be like this! I wasn’t tricked, I wasn’t bewitched, I was thrown out for being a shapeshifter and taken in! You don’t get to ‘forgive’ me! I don’t need forgiveness!” She was shouting now, though she hadn’t realized it.

Ulbrig pushed down his anger, trying his hardest to be understanding and compassionate. “Sakura, listen.”

“No. I’m done listening to you. I… I thought you were different… You’re just like everyone else that cast me out and spit on me because they think I choose to wear my masks.” She had had enough of close-minded fools. She stood up and walked away with a hiss.