#i would like to request the return of at least fucking 70% of my emotions

[littlemousejelly]

.

#texted my coworker and remembered how she liked my thotty supergirl post on insta from her #personal account and her cat's insta account and i just #bro i'm so fucking tired #i'm so tired #who thought it was a good idea to make me a scorpio #i'm too weak for this shit #i can't handle the fuckshit that is emotions!! #i can't handle the fuckshit that is being so hopelessly and debilitatingly into someone that doesn't want me back!!! #mei lying face down in the rain.gif #my heart hurts man i can't keep doing this ahahaha #scorpio season and mercury retrograde and year of the pig really coming together to bully me huh #how do people just not. like. fall apart. america explain. #i would like to request the return of at least fucking 70% of my emotions #i'm so tired of feeling my chest hurt when i think about how absolutely everything was just in my head #so tired of CRYING OVER HER HELLO KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF YOU STUPID WATER SIGN #i just wanna stop feel lol is that allowed #me: crushes are fun! i love looking forward to interacting with someone i'm into and wanna hold and care for #also me: if she doesn't love me back i will be absolutely gutted and i won't be okay for years #also me: cool so we're agreed on the crush thing yeah? let's go find someone to pine over #really channeling the vibe of 'all you wanna do' from six the musical right now #'guess this time's not different' #bitch why say 'holy shit i'm down!!!' #why tell our mutual friend that you think i'm really cute!!! #fuck you!!!!! #don't- like- no. i can't do it. don't fucking do that. #fuck you scorpio season + mercury retrograde #i was fine. i was done with this. i was over her. i was okay again. fuck. #i need to go make my body scream at the gym tomorrow. clearly. #oh whoops this sounds like it's about my coworker but it's not lol #i'm so sorry it's breakdown hours theydies and gentlethems

[imaginesbymk]

“Something’s Wrong with Mr. Pink.”

Reservoir Dogs One Shot

Summary: There’s been spark between you and Mr. Pink, but he’s one to shield his emotions. He realizes he’s starting to lose you, but he’s out of ways to win your heart. Desperate, he approaches Mr. White for help.

Pairing: Mr. Pink x Fem!Reader

Tags: swearing, sexist remarks, smoking + mentions of drug use (marijuana)

Non Requested

Word Count: 2,054

Author’s Note: as you can tell, quentin tarantino movies have been on my list!!! the reader is codenamed Miss Beige!! i never thought i’d have this much appreciation for steve buscemi until now, he’s such a cool guy :(((  also thank you @myriadimagines​ for checking my title capitalization aksnskdns - leave a like/reblog + feedback!!! <333

MR. BROWN gave Mr. Pink a ride to the next meeting, and the whole trip there, Brown rambled on and on about God knows what. It came through one ear and out the other for Pink. Brown didn’t seem to notice because of his investment of his proven theory of a movie he had seen and wanted to share it with someone. 

If he wasn’t listening in silence, Pink would always have something to say. It would usually be a comment, an opinion on something about social life. This one afternoon, he bit his tongue, despite the guys knowing his mind was occupied, even Nice Guy Eddie raised a brow. It didn’t start the day they were all given your colour coded names. It didn’t start the day they reviewed the plan of the heist with each other. It all started when you two were unintentionally left alone at the large dining table, moments after the guys had walked out the restaurant for something.

“Pink’s a pretty colour.” You gave him a reassuring smile, stirring your straw in your milkshake.

“To you.” 

“And to anyone else who would want to be codenamed Pink!” you scoff. “Sexist.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re Miss Beige,” he says, his mouth full of his toast. 

“And I happen to like my name. It’s a pretty colour,” you paused. “Just like pink.”

Pink huffs, swirling his coffee mug. “I can’t wait to smoke.”

“Lucky.”

“My buddy sets up Thai sticks like it’s one of those model boats in a bottle. It’s so fragile to him, and he saved one for me. Something tells me I owe him a shit ton.”

“You smoke Thai sticks?” you ask. “Your poor lungs.”

“Nah, I gotta smoke outta one anytime after coffee just for me to either black out or jump off the Empire State building by the time we hit Easter.”

You chuckled.

From the windows of the restaurant, you could see the guys standing outside their parked cars including Nice Guy Eddie and Joe, talking to each other about whatever. You could see their mouths moving, Nice Guy Eddie using a lot of hand motions at Mr. White, and Joe calling someone on the phone.

This wasn’t the first time you spent a limited amount of minutes alone with Mr. Pink. At Uncle Bob’s Pancake House, you two did sit close to each other, except Mr. Blue sat in between the both of you, and you had to lean forward to see Mr. Pink if he was speaking or if you two were giving each other looks if someone said something stupid.

If you were that childish, you would've considered the five minutes of alone time with Mr. Pink a first date - without the formal introduction. You two didn’t give each other your names because of Joe, but you wouldn’t mind slipping it out.

Silence, and then-

“I know this really cool café near my apartment. We should check it out sometime,” you blurted out.

Pink was in the midst of swallowing his food. He chokes on his ketchup dipped toast, taking his coffee mug to chase the contents down his throat.

“Wait a minute-” Pink cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “Are you-” he cleared his throat for the final time. “Are you asking me out?”

“Y-yeah,” you sheepishly smile, holding in your breath. “I mean, we can go get coffee, hang out at my place afterwards - it’s just a five minute walk - and sit on my couch, listen to K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the ‘70s, you can smoke your Thai stick, I wouldn’t mind...” By looking at Pink’s face made you trail off your words. You knew where this was going. 

“You couldn’t ask Brown or Orange?”

“No, I wanted to ask you. We’ve been talking lately, we seem to get along, thank God, and you’re really cool. Even when you can be an absolute dick almost all the time, you haven’t scared me off. Just one date, it won’t kill us.”

“A date...” he frowns a bit. “With you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” your heart sank.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Miss Beige. Ya just got the wrong idea. We’re here for a job, not to hook up. If you want to suck someone off, try your luck with Mr. Blonde. Besides, I go for chicks at a bar. I know from experience, they’re always coming in hot - first come, first serve typa’ shit.”

“Right. My bad.” You felt yourself shrinking now, fighting the urge to get up and make a dash outta there, somewhere to scream in embarrassment, whatever emotion it was. 

“Excuse me.” Mr. Pink gets up and walks away, just as the rest of the guys start making their return to the large table.

“Where did Mr. Pink go?” Mr. Orange asked.

“Little men’s room, I’m guessing.” You sighed, sliding the milkshake away from you. “I’m full.”

“Something’s wrong with Mr. Pink. Did you guys get in a fight? We were only gone for five minutes,” Mr. Brown laughs.

You sat in silence, staring down.

“Nah, I bet she finally put him in his place and he’s crying like a baby in there,” Mr. Blue said, lighting the cigar in his mouth with a match.

“Most definitely not.” Mr. White shook his head, patting his pockets in search of his lighter. “That man’s a smartass, and smartasses like him know how to shield themselves. He’s fine. If anything, he can walk his ass home.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Pink calmly entered the restroom, placed both hands on each side of the tiny sink, stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror, and screamed in anger. 

He jumps when he notices a man had appeared from one of the stalls just a moment ago, staring at him worriedly.

“WHAT?!” Mr. Pink snaps.

If someone treated him like a friend, he goes along with it if they weren’t weird or creepy. If someone told a joke, he’ll laugh if it isn’t corny or cringeworthy. But if someone admitted their feelings to him? Let alone ask him out?

That was the thing: Mr. Pink doesn’t like the idea of vulnerability. He’s aware that it’s unavoidable, it’s human nature - he just chooses not to give into it. Mr. Pink won’t waste a breath giving anyone the impression that he’s easy to get along with and that he’s a kind of guy to not act like a complete jerk half the time, because that’s not true. Not on his behalf, at least. 

“Mr. White,” Mr. Pink approaches him in the vacant room at the hideout one day.

He knows people can judge. So he naturally survives on witty remarks, being a sarcastic ass most of the time, and coffee, coffee, and more coffee. Coffee times six. 

Mr. White finishes combing his hair in the small mirror, nodding at him as a response. “You all right, son?”

But at the same time, his heart was telling him he wants you all to himself.  “I got a problem...”

"SO you want my help?” Mr. White said, a few moments after Mr. Pink had explained the situation he was stuck in. “You’re completely hopeless right now? Gosh, is it my birthday already?”

“You’re full of shit,” Pink mumbled.

“Thought you’re s’posed to be a fuckin’ professional, like you said?” Mr. White chuckled. “I would have thought you would know what to do by now.”

“What am I, the Dalai Lama? I don’t know the answer to everything.”

“I mean... I kinda figured something was goin’ on between you two, I tried to warn her,” White shoots him a blank stare.

“Warn her?” Mr. Pink scowls. “Like I’m some fuckin’ tiger on the loose?”

“I did tell her: Listen, honey,” Mr. White grimaced, as he saw you like a sixteen-year-old teenager not knowing better than to get her heart broken. “Are you one hundred percent sure you like Mr. Pink? He’s a pretty cynical guy. You know he doesn’t tip waitresses?”

You shrug.

“Look, I know I can be very close to myself while very outspoken but,” Mr. Pink sighs. “I mean, c’mon, you’ve seen Miss Beige. Who wouldn’t want her? One time, she called in sick for a job she worked at just to play Super Mario World.”

“You could go there and apologize to her.”

“It’s not that easy, White.”

“How so? Just tell her you freaked out but you had a change of heart.”

“No, man. I could have accepted it right there and then, I could be taking her out somewhere, a place she likes, or that café she was talking about. But no, I turn into the cold piece of shit I always am ‘cause I’m a fucking-” Mr. Pink kicks the rusty chair in anger. “-idiot!” He kicks it again, hurting his foot in the process. He cries out in pain and hops away to the table for balance.

“Mr. Pink, it’s not too late to win her heart. If you really like her, and I can tell you’d take a bullet for her, then brush the professionalism aside for one second and make your move.”

“How?” he chuckles, taking a seat in the chair he had just kicked.

“Well, you can start by introducing yourself.”

“Already done.”

“No I mean, your name.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. What we’re not gonna do is that.” Mr. Pink ran his fingers through his hair, turning his back to White to therapeutically stare at the light pink tiles on the walls. 

“Why not?” White shrugs. “I told her mine. And it’s-”

Mr. Pink turned around. “What?”

Mr. White furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“You told her your name?” he said. In his mind he prayed Mr. White gave her a fake name on the spot.

“I mean, not just her. Mr. Orange, too. My first name and where I was from, it was a normal conversation.”

“...WHY?!” Pink’s voice echoed in the warehouse.

“Orange asked.”

“You know what Joe said, we’re not supposed to reveal any personal info about ourselves!”

“Joe said this, Joe said that- fucking teacher’s pet,” Mr. White mocks.

“What the hell were you thinking, White?” he shouts.

“How else can you and Miss Beige take a step further if you can’t even tell each other your fuckin’ names? Just introduce yourself, Pink. That’s one way to start,” Mr. White says.

“And what if she doesn’t like my name?” He could only come up with such a question like that.

“What is your name?” 

“Fuck you, man.” Mr. Pink stood up from the chair, earning a chuckle from his colleague.

“All right, if you won’t tell me your name, then tell y/n. Y/n should be the only one who can know.”

Mr. Pink turned back to him again. “Y/N?” he says. “That’s her name?”

Mr. White nods. As heated as Mr. Pink was, he knew one day your name would have to fall out of his lips and not a colour, and he wouldn’t mind that. Y/N...

Mr. Pink wouldn’t mind that one bit.

FROM now on, the café near your apartment complex would be your go-to. It was a café not too small but not too big, and no one would bat an eye if you showed up in your pajamas. The following Saturday you went there alone, sipping your coffee and turning to the second page of the morning paper. 

What sucked was the fact that after you were turned down, you came to think that Mr. Pink wouldn’t be able to see how cool the interior was. He sure was missing out. Sure his Thai stick won’t be stinking up your living room while throwback songs from the ‘70s play on the radio, but indeed, sucks for him.

“Shit, you were right, y/n. This place is pretty neat.”

The newspaper crinkled when you lowered it down. Standing at the foot of your booth was Mr. Pink. This time he didn’t have on his silly Hawaiian shirt like last time, and no, he didn’t ironically wear pink as a kind gesture. He did look good in a white tee, though. 

You had to smile. He knew your name. And you wondered how...

“Oh, Mr. Pink. Morning,” you nodded.

He takes a seat in front of you. “C’mon, we’re not at work. Just call me—”

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes

#i wish mr pink actually revealed his name in the movie #but no he’s a ✨professional✨ #reservoir dogs imagine #reservoir dogs one shot #reservoir dogs x reader #reservoir dogs fanfic #mr pink x reader #mr pink imagine #mr pink #reservoir dogs #reservoir dogs fanfiction #mr pink one shot #reader insert #one shot #imagine #mk's faves

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silent Night

Based on this: “You aren’t a big fan of Christmas and just want to get out of the city and away from the hustle and bustle. However the one and only Captain America has had his eyes on you and wants to spend a perfect Christmas with you whether you like it or not."requested by anonymous.

Warnings: noncon sex (fingering, intercourse)

Note: Okay, so I’ll be working on holiday drabbles over the next few days.  Hopefully one or two a day if I can manage! Thanks for all the requests so far and I’m working at keeping up.

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help especially since I haven’t been getting many.

A quiet Christmas. A once in a lifetime occasion. Convincing your parents to let you skip the family dinner had been a task in itself, only exchangeable for your labour. The old cabin your aunt hadn’t visited since her fall down the stairs a year ago was far away that it guaranteed a holiday undisturbed. A favour, you negotiated, a gift for your aunt who would soon be in shape to once more respite to the northern forests. The place must be dusty, it would need a cleaning before that. Your selfish reclusivity disguised as generosity.

More difficult had been your departure from work for the two weeks that encapsulated both Christmas and New Years Eve. Stark was the festive sort and Nat was the talkative sort. She’d let slip just as you informed your boss you’d be away and unable to attend his respective holiday parties that you hated the time of year. You cringed and it told Tony all he needed to know. But, begrudging and with a vow you’d attend the next year, he approved the time away. You scowled at Nat and promised her payback.

The drive was peaceful. The further you drove along the single lane highway, the deeper the snows grew, the quieter the air. You thought of how nice it would be to be alone. Somewhere where even the howls of wolves were muted in the sheets of snow, completely serene. 

Not hiding in the corner of the room as others drank and made merry in the false spirit of the season. Not putting on a smile to assuage propriety. Not lying about your plans for the days of cheer. Only you and nature and silence. Well, maybe some non-Christmassy music too.

Then your mind strayed. You had tried to be covert. Tried not to let on your pending absence. FOMA was not an emotion for you, in fact you feared having to partake. You made Nat swear not to tell anyone else; not to let Wanda know until it was too late, not to goad Pepper into her nagging, not to allude to Peter that his “second aunt” would be miles away. 

It had almost gone to plan. You woke up early to leave. You lifted your bag, afraid the wheels would give away your escape. You crept to the elevator but when the doors opened, Steve was there. He didn’t miss the guilty frown or the suitcase. He stayed on the elevator, though he’d only just taken it up, and made the descent with you.

“You’re leaving us?” He wondered. “Without a goodbye?”

“I’ll be back. I just didn’t want a whole...thing,” You gripped your suitcase and his hand settled next to yours.

“Let me help you with your bag at least,” He offered. “A Christmas present since you won’t get mine until you return.”

“Present? You didn’t have to--don’t have to--”

“What is it? You hate us, don’t you? Just put up with us for the paycheck?” He kidded.

“Steve,” You rebuked and he subtly tugged the bag away from you. “You know that’s not it.”

“Family?” He asked.

“Well...not exactly.” You admitted as the doors opened and he waved you out ahead of him.

“Not exactly?”

“I’m doing a favour for my aunt. Cleaning out her old summer cabin.” You explained as he followed you across the lobby. “A nice solitary reprieve.”

“Oh, are we that chaotic?”

“Not what I meant,” You grumbled as you passed into the parking garage. “Really. I’ll see you after when the city isn’t so...shiny.”

“Alright.” He wheeled your bag to your car as you popped the trunk. “But I don’t think you realize how much we’ll miss you.”

“You’ll survive,” You scoffed as he lifted your suitcase into the car. 

“Mmhmm,” He nodded and you closed the trunk.

“Don’t,” You warned him. “I already got the guilt trip from Tony. You’re better than him.”

“Sure I am,” He shrugged and you shook your head. 

“Alright, enough. I gotta go.”

Your farewell was more than that. Steve was persistent, as always. You’d finally managed to get a final goodbye as you were halfway in the car and he blocked you from closing the door. Maybe he didn’t realize how often he was in your way. How often he was at your desk gabbing away as you tried to concentrate on Tony’s chicken scratch or how he always found you on your lunch and kept you from listening to the latest episode of that one podcast. Maybe he didn’t, or maybe he did. Maybe the golden boy was a bit more tarnished than he let on. Or maybe he was as oblivious as he seemed.

You tore your mind back to the road. To the dull lights that shone in your rear view. When had they shown up? You were the only car for the last little stretch, not many ventured into this area later than September. You squinted at the car, the specks of snow obscuring it enough to be just discernible, and looked back to the road ahead. 

You were almost there, hopefully before the snow made the way impassable. Before you were forced to park your car in the forest and trek the rest on foot. You’d done it once before, but without the feet of snow to slow you. You wondered if you’d even make it should it come to that.

You made it though. The headlights disappeared from your mind and when you turned off they passed smoothly. You continued up the winding path, just wide enough for your car. Slow, steady, safe. When you pulled up to the side of the cabin you sighed. You’d have to shovel your way in, and maybe out when all was said and done.

You awkwardly pulled on your snow pants in the cramped interior of your car. You hit your head and elbows several times before you were left out of breath but protected. You had to push your way through the snow and into the garage. The shovel was covered in frozen cobwebs, the dusty and undisturbed space smelled like snow and isolation.

You grabbed the shovel and turned back. The snow continued to fall, adding to your chore. A few paths, to the door, to the car, around the back. It’d tire you out and see you til the morning when the real work began.

-

Your first day was spent dusty and wiping down the tables and walls. The work carried over into the second when at last you managed to sit still for more than a couple minutes. There was wood left in the shed but you were nervous you’d be out in the drifts, almost taller than yourself now, chopping more. You didn’t use much in the summertime when it was reserved for evening fires. Now it was shoved in the stove to heat the front room where you huddled under a blanket and shivered.

The generator powered the 70s style fridge but little else. You were left to flashlights and even an old oil lamp your aunt had bought at a yard sale. It was close to evening, the sky a pale blue threatening to turn pitch black. You sat with a book open in front of you, the words bolder in the reserved quiet of the cabin.

Your cell held the pages down, lifeless and without signal. Your mom couldn’t remind you of your desertion, Tony couldn’t try to guilt you, Nat couldn’t send those weird memes that were frighteningly dark. You were entirely unbothered by the winter owls and the distant snowy creatures of the trees. Christmas Eve had never been so perfect.

The date was in the back of your mind. You’d barely take note of it if it wasn’t on the lock screen. You moved to the sofa and reclined to read another chapter, yawning and curling into a ball. You’d been sleeping there to stay close to the stove and feed it in the early hours to keep it from dying. 

Another half chapter and your eyes were closing against your will. You closed the book around your phone and set it on the floor beside the couch. You pulled the blanket to your chin and clicked off the flashlight. You nestled into the cushions, the fire crackling and coaxing you deeper. You fell asleep, a slumber unusually rapt on the night before Christmas.

You didn’t wake to stoke the fire though, not that you realized in your sleep. Undisturbed, unworried. Until you did wake and not of your own accord.

The old cabin was known for its creaks and cracks. First built in the thirties and renovated in the seventies, it was expected. But this wasn’t a groan of aged wood, or the wind battering the old shingles, it was a footstep, and then another, and another. Soft against the hardwood, the clink of dishes, the sound of living.

Your eyes opened and you saw the stove glowing amber; finely stocked and burning boldly. Your heart seized and you sat up so suddenly you had to keep yourself from toppling to the thin carpet below. Surely a bear wouldn’t be so tactful, so careful.

You turned and looked into the kitchen. You recognized the golden head, the broad shoulders as the intruder stood at the kitchen stove. The smell of pancakes filled the cabin and you shivered as the blanket fell from your shoulders. You stood but he didn’t seem to notice. 

You tiptoed to the fireplace and grabbed a log from the stack. Surely a meagre weapon against him but what the fuck was he doing here? Steve Rogers in your aunt’s cabin, uninvited and quite possibly, unhinged.

You neared the door of the kitchen and he turned back to you. You held the log at the ready to swing. He held a spatula and was entirely unfazed by your fearful approach.

“Did I wake you?” He asked as if all was as it should be.

“What--What the hell are you doing here?” You clung to the log as he stepped closer.

“You can’t spend Christmas alone,” He said coolly. “I couldn’t let you.”

“Better yet, h-how did you even--did you follow me here?” You pointed the log at him as he tried to step closer. “No. Don’t. Steve, this is weird.”

“It’s dangerous here. All the snow. Out here alone. You need someone.” He replied as he turned back and flipped the pancakes. “Go on and grab a plate, these are almost done.”

You flinched. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the Steve you knew. Well, it was in that he was sweetly making you breakfast but he was also intruding on your privacy. You stepped closer with the log and poked him. 

“Steve, you need to go,” You said. “Now.”

“Now that’s not very grateful, is it?” He ignored the log and went to the cupboard. He pulled out two plates onto the counter and switched off the stove. He piled the flapjacks on them and went to the fridge to find the syrup. “I’ve come here to keep you company, to keep you safe, and I’ve even made you breakfast.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” You kept the wood in front of you as he opened the silver drawer. “You’re really freaking me out.”

“And you want me to go out? Into the storm?” He nodded to the window, white with the whirl of the blizzard just outside. “I barely made it here.”

“Steve,” You whined. “Steve, stop.” You jabbed him harder with the log. He dropped the cutlery on the counter and turned to you slowly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing is--” He grabbed the log and wrenched it from your grip. “Wrong with me.” He broke it in half easily and dropped it. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You insisted as you backed away.

“Will you just sit down and eat your breakfast?”

“I don’t want to. I want you to go.” You said.

“Jesus,” He breathed and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You always do this. You’re such a little tease.”

“What are you talking about?” You felt around as you passed through the doorway backward and he neared slowly.

“I might be born last century but I’m not stupid,” He said. “Your blouses, that smile, the way you chew on your pen when we talk, that fake laugh you put on.”

“Steve, you’re wrong, I never--”

“I just want you to have a Christmas to remember. For us to make our first Christmas special.”

You gulped and peered around. You looked back to him and lunged for the poker leaned against the wall. He grabbed it before you and tossed it away just as he pulled you back. He spun you around and threw you against the sofa. You fell onto it with a painful bounce and tried to push yourself back up. He was on you in and instant.

“Steve!” You yelped. “Steve, please stop!”

You beat on his chest as he wrestled with you. You had to be dreaming. This was some sick nightmare. He was so strong, so decisive. You tried to wake up, hit him hoping you would suddenly jolt up and find the cabin empty, but your eyes were already open and this was just as real as it felt.

He soon had you beneath him, straddled and squirming as he held your hands beside your head. You kicked your legs helplessly and he squeezed your hips between his thick thighs. His blue eyes were dilated and sinister as he pinned you down.

“Shhh, calm down. Please,” He tried to soothe you. “Honey, you can’t open your presents if you’re bad.”

“Honey? Don’t call me honey!” You spat. “Get off of me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He said. “Please, don’t make me.”

You stilled suddenly. You stared up at him, shocked. Was that a threat? From Steve Rogers? Well, he was on top of you and you felt the twitch in his jeans as he stared down at you.

“You wouldn’t,” You gasped.

“Only if you make me,” His voice was low and grimy. “Don’t make me.”

“Steve,” You pleaded in a whisper. “Please,” You tried to move and barely jostled him. “Let me go.”

He closed his eyes and huffed. He lowered his head and squeezed your wrists. He was angry, frustrated. You were terrified.

“You’ve already let our breakfast go cold,” His words were measured though his tone trembled. “You better start listening, honey, or you’ll ruin the whole day for us.”

“Steve, please…”

“Don’t.”

“Steve.”

“No. Don’t make me.”

“Steve, please, you’re scaring me.”

He let go of your wrists and for a moment, you thought he would get off of you. But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the neck of your loose sweatshirt and the tear of fabric was like a crack of lightning. The thin tank top beneath showed your nipples, hard from chill air, and he ripped it just as swiftly.

“No,” You tried to bat his hands away, tried to keep them from your bare chest. 

He pushed past your struggles and ground his pelvis into you. “You have to be good.” He hissed. “Or I’ll be bad.”

“Stop,” You sobbed. “Steve.”

You tried to shove him away but he didn’t relent. He bent over you, sliding back just slightly. He held your chin in his large hand as his other tweaked your nippled painfully. “Shhh,” He pressed his lips to yours and muffled your pleas. 

His hand continued to toy with you, kneading and pinching painfully. He groaned into your mouth and rocked his hips against you. His hand moved lower as his other threatened to break your jaw. You were forced to open your mouth and he quickly devoured you.

He tugged at the elastic of your sweatpants, hooked his fingers under your cotton panties as he pulled them lower. You reached down to keep them at your waist but he yanked them sharply from your grasp. He lifted his pelvis as he edge them down your thighs.  

He withdrew from your lip and held you down with a hand on your chest as his other worked at your pants. You grabbed his wrist, unable to budge him as your pants reached your knees. He got to his knees and you wriggled to get away. 

He caught you and pulled your legs out from beneath him. He leaned them against his torso, your feet at his shoulders. He pressed his thighs around your ass as he reached down between your legs. You squirmed and pushed at his hand. Kicked your tangled legs against him. He grabbed your ankles in one hand and held them to his left shoulder.

He shoved his fingers between your thighs and forced them between your folds. He shuddered and pulled his hand away. Your eyes widened, hopeful again. You tried to move your legs but he kept them firm against him. You looked down as he unbuttoned his fly.

“Steve.” You begged. “Steve, I’ll be good.”

“Too late,” He warned. “All you had to do was listen, honey. But you wouldn’t.”

You wheezed as he unzipped his jeans and you looked away as he revealed the head of his swollen cock. You felt him pull himself out entirely and you closed your eyes. You reached down to shove him away with just your fingertips. He ignored you, if he noticed your pathetic resistance at all.

He moved your legs. Pulled them as wide as they would go still caught in your sweats. Not much but enough. He held your left knee and guided himself along your most tender spot. You tried again to draw away but he had you trapped. He leaned over you, bending your legs just slightly as he rubbed his tip against your pussy.

He pushed inside just a little. You were too tight and too dry. You exclaimed and he pulled out. He sighed and you opened your eyes to watch him lick his fingers. You grunted desperately. “Please, don’t.”

He rubbed his slick fingers along you, wetted them again and forced them inside of you. He pressed his thumb to your clit and your body stiffened. Despite your fear, your body responded. He licked his fingers a third time, to taste, to add a little more, and shoved them even deeper.

He played with you a bit and then pulled his fingers out to spread your juices along his cock. He pressed his tip to you again, this time he slid in easily but not painlessly. He didn’t ease himself in. He pushed himself to his limit and past yours and you cried out.

“Ow! Ow! Steve, it hurts. Get off! You’re hurting me, please!”

“I told you,” He thrust once, sharply. “To be good.” He thrust again and you writhed in agony.

You gritted your teeth as you tried to hold back your yelps. He rocked against you steadily, each time you winced at the strain. His hands went to your thighs as he brought himself as deep as he could go. He leaned over you, your back curved as he curled your body beneath him. 

He planted his hands beside you as he raised himself over you. He lifted his pelvis and slammed it down, each time adding to the reverberations along your spine. He hammered you into the cushions as you whined. He watched your face as he worked against you, his pupils dark and wide. You grabbed his biceps and dug your nails into his skin.

“It really h--” Your breath caught. Surprised by the sudden tickle that crested the pain. “St-op...It--no.”

You covered your face with your hands as the coil wound tighter. You were ashamed and shocked at your response. The suddenness of the rise. The sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you added to the heat. Filled your head lewdly and carried you higher. You grunted as you were drawn thin and then the release washed over you.

He kept a hand beside you and pulled away your hands as you came. You closed your eyes and he carried on. Never wavered, only sped up. Didn’t let up as he chased another hill and you were forced over the edge again. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel his pleasure at stealing yours.

His groans grew louder and mingled with the sound of his body against yours. They sickening symphony reached its climax and you felt his release. Felt the gush within you as his hips jerked wildly. He emptied in himself inside you. Let forth all that he’d repressed. Anger, longing, resent; every ounce of it spilled out. He was left panting and weak, crushing your legs beneath him as he barely kept himself from slumping over you entirely.

He pushed himself back onto his knees. He pulled out and let your legs fall. Your body twisted as your knees hinged over the edge of the couch. You were shaking as you pulled your sweatshirt over your chest and his large hand settled on your ass. He caressed you, as if he cared, as if he had been sweet.

“We should eat,” He said as he drew away. The couch shifted as he stood and you heard his zipper. “Then we can start opening presents.”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #holiday drabble #drabble #request #fic #one shot #dark! #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #au #dark!verse #darkverse

[theravenclawmonster]

I thought getting diagnosed would be able to get me help...(post 1 of dunno how many)

Trigger warning: This post (and the later continuation posts after it titled the same) may contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, suicidal thoughts and many more things which i will try to edit in it after writing the post(s) (hopefully i’ll remember to)

Disclaimer: this is just a written account of events that happened in my life in the past few weeks and my emotional/ physical response to those events. I am writing this here so that it stays here as help for people to read and maybe see what certain things feel like, and as proof or diary for when i forget what really happened and start to believe her words. Also, this is going to be a long post... a very long post.

So, i thought getting diagnosed would maybe help me... A couple of weeks ago, i realized that my heart has been beating a bit faster than what i remembered it used to and my blood pressure would get low. Of course like every other pain or issue ever, i tried to first ignore it and act it out (trying to look fine) but you see, with low BP i really couldn’t act okay. My brain would go numb, i would feel like my brain was pushing me (the consciousness or me in my brain) towards the top of my forehead forcing me into my skull from inside; everything else felt numb. I couldn’t really speak or even think, all words were slurred if i tried my hardest. My body moved very slowly, i couldn’t even raise a finger in the normal speed (even in front of my parents, in front of who i never ever show if i am in pain or ill. but until then i had hid it pretty well by going to my room or just not letting them see me that much). By this time i didn’t know what was happening and episodes like this continued for 3 or 4 days, until one day i remembered that i should check my blood pressure as my heart feels like drowning (it was around 90 and 65 and pulse more than 110). Now, as someone whose blood pressure has always been around 110/70, i got a bit scared; i didn’t know if it was okay to have it this low or not and i wasn’t feeling okay at all. Anyway, it dropped a bit more and my mother noticed me (until then i was completely wiped out, had no strength to even be present in my body let alone act okay. i continuously felt like if i closed my eyes i’d slip away and never come back.

My mother told me to get up and have some ORS (some sort of salts and electrolytes thingy used in dehydration etc) and eat bananas. after some time my heart felt a bit fine and my BP rose up to 105 and something. But i felt exhausted, as if i had fought a war with my bare hands. I couldn’t even ask them to take me to a doctor and after this episode was over she suggested it very ummm... very angrily... so i stayed quiet. Later my sister (married) texted me and said that Mom will get an appointment for her general physician tomorrow for you. She obviously had talked to my mother on the phone and knew all about it (or at least as much as my mother decided to tell her). The next day she took the appointment which was for almost 2 weeks later (only time available). throughout the days leading up to that she told me that i’d feel fine and we’d not even need to go to the doc.

finally, the day arrived. My mother had been telling me to write things to show the doc, my symptoms and stuff, but i couldn’t write anything. I wrote this on a paper 9in a slow child-like handwriting:

1. Pain everywhere

    Tired

    Breathe (referring to difficulty in breathing but i couldn’t write the whole sentence)

the day i went to the doctor i added “ fog/ Quick sand” to the list wanting to say that i feel like i am in a fog/ quick sand as everything including my body and my brain function becomes very slow and delayed.

I didn’t take that paper to the doctor (well, that exquisitely written note wasn’t very helpful). I had decided beforehand that i’d somehow send my mother out and talk to the doctor in private as my emotionally abusive and controlling mother makes me unable to function like a normal human being. It took me days to prepare myself to say that. I also took all my history with me from the beginning of the year. Below is the brief history:

[ I had a very bad chest infection right after chicken pox (at the start of this year, yes great start to a great year 2020), I had to get a chest x-ray in which Scoliosis (bending of spine) showed up. According to the doctors and my family, as it was an incidental finding, it was asymptomatic and therefore needed no treatment or even a brace. No one cared to pay attention to what i said or how i felt as the fucking patient who actually dealt with a lot of back and shoulder and literally almost every kind of bone pain, and for whom the discovery of scoliosis was an answer to a lot.] Anyway, back to the regular rant.

so we went to the doctor. As i sat outside waiting for my turn, i practised again and again about how to ask to be diagnosed in private and not making my mother mad. first, my mother’s turn arrived and she told me to go in with her and remember what doctor tells her for her diabetes and acidity issues. After she was done... (i am getting a bit hazy here) i think the doctor brought up my scoliosis (i went to him in the beginning of the year and he referred me to an osteopath or someone) he talked about how he discussed my case with his colleague and he advised me to go to another hospital in another city for they have a specific department for things like scoliosis. After he said it all and looked at me expectantly to start telling him why i was there, i told my, mother if she can leave, she laughed embarrassed and acted like ha ha sweety i won’t disturb you go on ahead. but i repeated it a couple more times ( i think my tone was pretty dry, but i am not sure as i couldn’t really regulate anything at that time).

She left. then the doctor asked me about my health and i started to explain, except i couldn’t find the right words and forgot everything and just burst into tears. he patiently offered me tissues and waited for my answer. I explained somewhat. i don’t really remember the symptoms i explained, just that i felt fake and weird as if it all wasn’t really happening or i was faking everything and don’t know why the hell i kept bawling my eyes out, i was fine!! stop crying and making a scene. I was also inwardly thankful that my mother wasn’t in the room as i have had a similar experience of crying in front of a doctor and she taunted me about it for months calling me fake and attention seeking and a liar. Anyway, here is a list of what i told the doctor (from what i can remember):

- i feel like i am always holding myself up tightly, if i let go i’d fall. My muscles all feel seized up

-I have difficulty in breathing, i can’t breathe deeply for years. and before it was connected to emotional issues but now its almost all day everyday.

-As because of scoliosis my ribcage is a bit twisted so if i bent over my left ribs dig into my stomach area and it is quite painful if my stomach is full, if i have gained weight or if i have gas.

-my ankles feel swollen on the inside and walking is painful, my heels hurt and the top of my foot and the pain goes all the way up to my pelvic bone and back. My back hurts all the fucking time.

-My knees hurt so much that i have not been able to put my weight on my left knee for more than a week now (it has been hurting in the past as well) and now my body had developed a weird habit of walking up the stairs without putting pressure on left knee at all, which has in turn made my right knee tired and painful.

- I can’t really feel hungry. like if i don’t eat for a long time i’d feel that painful hunger in my stomach but i have no desire to eat and i keep forgetting about it. even when i try to eat i look at food and recoil in a little, i can’t eat it usually or at least like i use to ( I loved food more than almost anything ever, with only some foods that i couldn’t eat). and even after i eat (usually only when i eat something with wheat in it) my stomach swells up a round and painful (which is even more painful when the ribs dig into it.

-My jaw feels stiff and my teeth and gums hurt as if i have been clenching my jaw (which i do catch myself doing quite often)

-oh! i actually started out with saying that i can’t really hold up my neck some of the time (like a baby), and it keep falling around if i relax, it was happening right then too. then i cried. i also mentioned something about my bones painfully feeling like they’ll fuse into each other (if i lie on my side sometimes i feel like both sides of my ribcage will collapse into each other

This was all i could remember then and i think there might be more that i told him but i don’t remember it rn

The doctor asked me things in return. he asked me about my sleep which i told him i can’t sleep. I have been a person who’d sleep 7- 8 hours a night and then also take a nap in the day. I love to sleep, i could always sleep, no matter what happened. If i had cramps, migraine, back pain, emotional abuse, my favorite character died, tired, bored anything; I’d sleep it off. But now, no matter when o lie down, firstly, i am in too much pain to be comfortable in any position, it takes hours to fall asleep and no more fun daydreaming before sleep too. and then i wake up even more exhausted somehow.

He checked my BP and breathing ( i couldn’t breathe properly maybe because of crying) and stomach softness. My BP was 135/95 which i contributed to the car ride (i have car anxiety... dunno what it is but i get super anxious and panicky in a car especially with my family) but he said it could be because you just cried so much.

so, then he said that you are too stressed and your neurons are constantly firing cuz pain both emotional and physical. (he was talking for quite some time but i don’t remember what he said) he said most of it seems to be mental but upon my request he did give a few tests (one in particular expensive one for some muscle disease or something) then he referred me to a psychiatrist. he also asked me to write down my symptoms as the more i tell the doctor the better they can diagnose. then i got out and told my mother the diagnosis and referral. she went in to the office herself and talked to him for some time.

So, we had the tests done (with my father making it a point to say loudly how expensive was one of them in particular) and got an appointment for the psychiatrist. Also said that i have some stomach acidity and gave medicine for that

this seems like a huge post so i am thinking about making another one for that session and the later drama, hopefully before i forget

part two can be found here

#emotional abuse #abuse #actually abused #abusive parents #depression #MDD #chronic pain #tired of life #scoliosis #migraine

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

‘Til the End of the Line (or Not) OR: See? We TOLD You “No Homo.” Love, Markus and McFeely

*****WARNING: 99.9% SALT!! Contains spoilers for Avengers Endgame!!****

I guess this is part two of my personal processing of Endgame. @pitchforkcentral86 was not satisfied by my timey-wimey Endgame post, which centered on Steve’s choice to go back in time to be with Peggy and the implications of that choice. She remarked that yeah, it’s great that Steve might not be a total piece of crap, Pym particles, yada yada, whatever, but it still didn’t make her feel any less despair over this ending.

The source of her agony: Steve and Bucky’s relationship and its utter lack of satisfying resolution. So I shall address that now, because I think I feel worse about that than anything, and I can’t explain it away with Pym particles.

Anyone who has any investment at all in the relationship between Bucky and Steve — whether you are a Stucky person or whether you view them as platonic but deeply connected best friends — has probably had to spend the last two movies scraping around the floor, searching for crumbs, signs, any hints that these two people care about each other. We have been begging the Russos, the screenwriters Markus and McFeely, anyone who would listen, for anything to suggest that they are even on the barest of speaking terms, let alone that they have the intensity of relationship that the MCU spent 3+ movies explicitly convincing us that they have. I’ll even come out and say that although I ship Stucky in fandom and fic hardcore, I am not an MCU canon Stucky person per se. I’m 100% fine if the MCU wants to treat this as a deep, fraternal friendship. In fact, I see some benefits to this interpretation. How wonderful if men could love each other so deeply and have it NOT be sexual or romantic. But I’m also 100% fine with people interpreting this as romantic love, and there were times throughout this franchise where the actors, various parties in production, and Marvel itself has been agnostic on the subject, if not encouraging of gay interpretations of their relationship. Let it be what you want, fans have been told. Or just flat out post a pic of Steve and Bucky on #National Boyfriend Day like Civil War comic writer Mark Millar. Sure. At times, it almost felt safe to ship them. As soon as Civil War drew to a close, however, it started becoming... inconvenient for Bucky and Steve to be together. Steve needs to go to the Raft. Bucky needs to go into cryo. Steve needs to become Nomad and go secret avenging. Bucky needs to do his Vibranium Brain Magic (TM)/goat herding complex PTSD recovery program. Side note: Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) is my provisional diagnosis based on virtually nothing, because Bucky’s character has gotten so little substantive screen time that we can only guess at his psychological state, save what can be conveyed through glistening eyes and woobieface and “... but I did it.” Wow. Bowl me over, you really got me right in the McFeelys. Though +1000 to SebStan for working what he got to work with to the max. That motherfucker can act. We know for certain approximately jack shit about Bucky’s internal experience post-Winter Soldier. And so, like pretty much everything with Bucky and this friendship/ship arc, I will just guess at what is actually wrong with him. But after 70 years as a POW being tortured and possibly gaslit and definitely brainwashed, that is almost the textbook recipe for complex PTSD, so imma go with that. Returning to this distance. Now, it first appears to be largely logistical in nature. Steve is over here, Bucky is over there. Golly, just too busy to hang these days. All this secret avenging without you. And when we pine — pine — for the meaningful reunion of these two in IW, instead we got a “Hey brah, how's it hanging?” “You know, old and traumatized lol” exchange and a “let’s make sure our dicks don’t touch” back-slappy hug that lasted two seconds. This is without any hint as to whether these two have seen each other yet after Bucky’s de-thawing, leaving us to wonder whether this is really the big reunion we have been waiting for. 

(If we had audio, the sound would be 70% slapping.)

I’m going to pause here, because for many of us, this was devastating. After all, we were left with this shot of Steve as Bucky made the choice to go into cryo, a choice that seemed only somewhat justifiable on the vague grounds of “I can’t trust my own mind.” (Me either, pal.)

Ugh.

Perhaps this was also an avoidance strategy — easier to go back on ice than deal with the emotional fallout of what just happened. And who could blame him? He is probably still relearning how to cope effectively with things after his entire coping system was destroyed by his time with Hydra. But Steve was clearly disappointed or, at the very least, saddened by this. He gets something back just to lose it again. Enter distance. He leaves and goes avenging. Emotionally, perhaps this move to cryo created distance as well. Their relationship was on such fragile ground at this point, mostly an artifact from the ‘40s, and their chance to deepen it was taken away by the writers because Bucky wanted to go on ice for reasons and Steve needed to do Steve things. And so when IW rolled around, oh, did we want them to have a substantive reunion. But alas, we did not get that. We saw equally substantive exchanges between Bucky and Sam or Rocket and far more substantive exchanges between Steve and pretty much anyone else. And then we got the ultimate separation — (fake) death. Again. A traumatic, unplanned loss that costs another five years from their timeline, all before they even got the chance to properly re-establish a friendship. Again, I’m going off of what we actually see portrayed, not off of what we assume or would like to see. We have absolutely no idea how much Steve and Bucky interacted in Wakanda. But Steve busted Sam out of the Raft quite early, early enough that he still had a messed up face from the time Tony went in (unless he was getting beatings on the reg, which is possible). So if he was hanging with Sam since before Bucky went on ice, and Sam just visited Wakanda for the first time in IW, either Steve was borrowing the Quinjet to secretly visit Wakanda on his own to hang with Bucky, or he hadn’t been back to Wakanda since he left the first time. 

Regarding Steve visiting Wakanda between CW and IW — I found this bullshit from Markus and McFeely on the subject of whether Steve and Bucky met or talked prior to IW. The writers could not even agree about their own characters, with one saying that Steve and his crew probably visited Wakanda and hung out with Bucky and the other saying, eh, the two of them “maybe Skyped.” As to the former, this is not at all supported by the narrative or by logic. Infinity War is clearly Sam’s first time in Wakanda, with all that drama about “zomg you’re gonna hit those trees, bro!” as they are flying into the city. And why would Steve  leave his team alone and vulnerable, probably taking the Quinjet, their only form of reliable and safe transportation, so he could go visit Bucky alone? He’s not there for a booty call, y’all, because these guys have barely even rekindled their friendship. Moreover, the other secret avengers know how important Bucky is to Steve. This isn’t a secret. There would be no reason to go alone and no reason for T’Challa to forbid Nat, Sam, and Wanda from coming to Wakanda. So it makes no sense that Steve has visited Wakanda prior to IW, and thus, that would make IW their first meeting, which is… utter and heartbreaking garbage. But at least they had motherfucking SKYPE. MAYBE. Fuck. You. Very. Much. 

So, in the face of this shit reunion and Bucky’s subsequent dusting, some of us kindled hope for the upcoming Endgame. Perhaps we would get flashbacks. We knew there would be flashbacks or time travel because we saw stuff in the trailers and sneak peeks from the set. So maybe there would be something there to account for the utter lack of attention to their relationship in Infinity War. Again, this was the mere request that Markus and McFeely and the directors acknowledge wholeheartedly what they have been building for these characters since the beginning of their time in the MCU. This was not even strictly about Stucky. This was about doing justice for these characters as humans. But there were no flashbacks. Who knows what happened in Wakanda. We will have to fill in the blanks on our own. Not a single comment could be spared to even signal whether the IW Wakanda scene was their first time seeing each other since cryo.  “How’s that new arm treating you?” or “God, it’s been so long”/deep emotion would be all it would have taken to not keep us wondering one way or the other. This suggests a lack of consideration to the fans of these characters and this relationship — which, again, Markus and McFeely slaved to get us to pour our hearts into. So… Endgame. What was that? Bucky and Steve didn’t stand next to each other at Tony’s funeral. Okay. Bucky is not an A-list Avenger. He did kill Tony’s parents. Awkward. Bucky was comforted by Sam, his… guy he sat behind in the Volkswagen in Civil War and fought next to in IW, and he needed comfort apparently (?) because he… killed Martha and Howard Stark (??), which was sweet, and much more spontaneous affection than we’ve seen from Steve in an age, but what the actual fuck??? Was that Mickey Mouse standing behind the Iron Man 3 kid wearing a “Falcon and Winter Soldier” miniseries t-shirt?

And that ending. This was maybe the one implied nugget of friendship between them visible with an electron microscope. They obviously had at least one deep conversation about Steve deviating from the plan to go have a life, and they obviously had a discussion about who would succeed him as Cap. My dreams of Bucky Cap were dashed into dust, but as @pitchforkcentral86 said, it would have been cruel to give it to Bucky. Bucky would possibly have taken it if Steve kicked the bucket in EG, but it makes the most sense to be passed along in a planned way to Sam. So maybe they had at least one good conversation. Way, way off camera. Bucky said he would miss him. Recycled TFA line. Thank God it was not involving the words “jerk” and “punk.” Glistening woobie eyes. Steve leaving to go be with the one person who can make him feel like a whole human being, apparently, because there is nothing and nobody tethering him to this time in history anymore.

Whoa— wait— WHAT??? These are the moments where I literally double check the credits for the Cap movies to make sure that it says “Markus and McFeely.” Then I check the latest Avengers movies to make sure they also say “Markus and McFeely.” And they ALL DO!! The same two men painstakingly crafted the story of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, two men who — let’s be literal in the narrative here, for the sake of making a conservative argument — are best friends from childhood. They hammered on this story HARD, making sure that their relationship was so strong that by the time 2016 rolled around, the depth and intensity of their friendship and Steve’s commitment to it would tear the Avengers apart. And along the way, something else happened.

When you put two people in relationship like this, you have to know that there will be consequences. People will grow very emotionally invested in their relationship, because that is exactly what the writers were asking the audience to do. These dudes did their job, all right! And then something else happened, quite easily, even though these things will also happen under much harsher conditions: Stucky. Winter Soldier alone probably launched a hundred thousand ships for these two — gay, gay ships, so very gay, the glitteriest, gayest of cruise liners — from a hundred thousand ports around the globe. This ship has permeated pop culture even outside the fandom (some dumb gross man jokes from Screen Junkies within, but the Stucky shenanigans start at around 3:15).

And perhaps that’s when Markus and McFeely realized what a monster they created, one that would clash in ugly ways with their forthcoming (heterosexual) narrative, — their endgame for Steve. And so what did they do? Overcorrect. Wildly. Pull the plug. Bucky and Steve can’t fall out as friends completely, but what’s the next best thing? Give them almost zero screen time together, lest anyone be tempted to think they have a serious relationship — and again, I’m just talking friendship at this point, let alone anything else. Make their lines devoid of substance. Keep us wondering about the nature of their dynamic. Did the distance grow too great? Is Bucky not able to reconnect with anyone? Is Steve too busy? Too salty?? Who knows! These are possibilities, but none are explained. Then just poof Bucky off the face of the earth for 5 years to create existential distance. And in the meantime, ensure that Bucky is shown as not even a passing thought for Steve Rogers. Ensure that his name is never once uttered by Steve until he is about to leave him to go be with Peggy — oh except when, in a real dick move, when he emotionally whumps his past self with the news that Bucky is alive for the sole purpose of getting out of a stranglehold. At the same time, ensure that Steve is seen becoming single-mindedly fixated on Peggy Carter, and make sure the audience — including all those pesky Stucky shippers — knows that he considers her the “love of his life.” Ensure we see the compass with increasing frequency and with maximum longing. Insert Steve finding the absurd photograph of himself on the Director of SHIELD’s desk, facing the door for any junior colleague to see her pining over him like a schoolgirl long after he died, which is just about the least Peggy Carter thing I can ever imagine (and these people created and wrote for the Agent Carter TV series!!!).

Then give us our first openly gay person in the MCU. And drop him in the same scene that you confirm once and for all that Peggy Carter is the love of Steve Rogers’ life. Have Steve be so fucking cool with it that he makes us proud and relieved that he’s not a homophobe. Whew! Only… it makes us feel kind of gross, and maybe we can’t quite figure out why at first. But maybe it’s because it feels  personal, like a concession, like the writers and director knew exactly what they were doing to a lot of people who feel a very specific way about Steve’s sexuality and about his relationship with Bucky Barnes. It feels like a tone deaf nod to the fandom. Sorry, guys. No homo. We really did try to warn you with the whole Sharon Carter thing. (Sharon Carter, in an act of gross and misogynistic misuse, remains one of the most criminally mistreated characters in the entire MCU, arguably serving almost entirely as a “no homo” device before being completely discarded, never to be heard from again.)

Which got me thinking — was this move to distance Steve and Bucky so abruptly a reactive move? The divide between Steve and Bucky that happens in IW and EG feels so cold and inorganic. It does not feel at all driven by the natural arc of the characters as established by the creators themselves. It feels rushed and confusing, like it just needed to happen for plot convenience (though not even clearly that), and once again, we are left trying to figure out what the fuck is actually going on.

Part of that is probably needing to lay the groundwork for Steve’s feelings of alienation, which lead him to his ultimate choice to go back in time. He can’t feel too connected to Bucky or he won’t want to go back to be with Peggy. But could part of this also possibly be a reaction to how strongly Stucky was adopted by the public? Did Markus and McFeely realize how much more strongly we love the idea of Steve and Bucky — as friends or lovers, who cares? — rather than Steve and Peggy, which was probably their ending for Steve all along? Did they realize their terrible mistake of bringing them so close, endearing them to us so much, and then realize “OH SHIT,” and then slam on the brakes? Is that why IW and EG felt like absolute shit for their relationship, even for those who are not total endgame Stucky people?

Okay, but what if their friendship just ran its course? Friendships do that, even really deep ones. These two have had a huge chronological and experiential rift that never was really healed (thanks to our dear writers). Steve saved Bucky’s life thrice but they never really reconnected. Presumably. As far as we know in the narrative we are given by the writers. Okay. Let’s say you need to get Steve back with Peggy and for Bucky to become pals with Sam instead because contracts and actors. Whatever. Fine. But if you are going to play the “our friendship has come and gone” card, you need to fully PLAY IT. You can’t make it some vague option that might be true because we can’t figure out what the hell is going on. They need to have an actual conversation. For fuck’s sake, if we have time to fuck around with Korg and Miek on the couch and time to have Banner take selfies with kids and do stupid time gags and a bunch of other little shit, there is enough time to have a brief conversation somewhere to imply that “things have changed” or “people change” or something to imply that the writers were even thinking about the course of Bucky and Steve’s relationship as more than just a platform to launch Steve back to Peggy and launch Bucky toward Sam for their spinoff series.

There was just no depth. How can they give us three movies composed almost entirely of Mariana Trench levels of depth between these two men and then give us virtually nothing in IW and then next to nothing in EG to “round out” their entire storyline? The shape of the emotional momentum in this relationship is so wonky and dissatisfying, and the lack of comment on the dissolution of their friendship in the narrative, the fact that it isn’t even being acknowledged, is one of the worst parts. This relationship died without being honored or even attended to at the most basic level, after being told that it is perhaps the most important relationship in Steve and Bucky’s lifetimes and being shown evidence of that fact.

Moreover, let’s get real — calling Peggy the love of Steve’s life should do nothing to diminish his friendship with Bucky Barnes. That’s not how love works. You don’t just get one person. You can have a best friend — hell, you can have two best friends — and a woman you love. (And even moreover, you don’t have to leap back through time to find closeness just because you can. But that’s another matter with Steve’s character that I will address in a future speculative character analysis on Steve in an effort to explain how he got to this point, because I have a super depressing head canon about it involving traumatic grief and loss.) 

But just like comic book science, perhaps there are comic book rules about love and affinity. You only get one person, and Steve gets Peggy. And apparently Bucky gets Sam. Because contracts. But as I said before, I would have been okay if they had a dissolution of their friendship because that was the course of their friendship. Just tell us what is happening. Have the decency to respect your characters by giving their relationship a true arc, whatever it is. You can’t just recycle a TFA line and call it an arc. That is not an arc. Markus and McFeely goddamn know better and we know they know better, because we just saw a beautiful relationship arc closing with Tony and Pepper and, on a smaller scale, with Tony and Peter fucking Parker.

By the way, the small in-person and symbolic interactions between Tony and Peter in EG? Those are what high quality, emotionally salient, brief interactions between people who care about each other look like.

1. Tony’s picture of Peter in his kitchen: He can see from where he does his dishes. He looks at it meaningfully and thoughtfully before making a major plot-essential decision that risks his way of life.

2. Tony and Peter’s reunion hug: It starts off with some humor and classic Peter rambling. Becomes a full-ass, real hug. Nobody slaps the other’s back. Peter remarks, very sincerely, “oh, this is nice.”  <3

3. Tony’s death scene: Peter is visibly and truly wrecked. Tony looks at him in a heartfelt way. Words are unnecessary. It is perfect.

Bonus IW moment, because it is one of the most moving images I have seen in the MCU: Tony has Peter’s ashes in his goddamn mouth, eyes closed. Defeated.

Jesus Christ. Don’t tell me Markus and McFeely don’t know how to write characters and brief, powerful interactions, even when the characters are not together. They most certainly are very, very capable of this.

So why did we get the lifeless, quippy drivel and lame physical contact they gave Bucky and Steve in IW and EG? Which, regarding their last convo, was Bucky spilling his guts and Steve being like “Yeah brah, you’ll be fine, don’t be a fucking idiot while I’m off being happy with the only person in the universe who can make me complete #surprisesoulmates.” Bucky offers his quippy mandatory TFA callback retort so that the audience remembers that these two once gave an actual fuck about each other at one point in the narrative.  Cue slappy-back-no-dick-touch hug. And please don’t tell me that this is just how men from the ‘40s hug. I would buy that for TFA, but after everything they’ve been through in Winter Soldier and Civil War? I am not buying it.

**Slap-slap**

So we get a Steve Rogers who exits the MCU permanently by making a contentious, questionable final choice with questionable implications that take a graduate degree and/or a hive mind to questionably figure out (or else I’m just a fucking idiot and I’m the only one who needed those things). And we also get the profoundly dissatisfying demise of a relationship that we invested a tremendous amount of emotional energy in because that is what the screenwriters and directors asked us to do. 

I am not writing this as a diehard Stucky shipper. I love Stucky, don’t get me wrong. It’s all I read and write in fandom. And I can certainly buy a world (at least, in Caps 1-3) where canon Steve’s love for Bucky is the gay kind and vice versa. Sure. But I am writing this as a person who loves good characters and good story, and this is such a hard fail that even if I had no emotional investment in these two characters, I would wonder what Markus and McFeely had against Steve and Bucky that they let their garden succumb to drought while they tended so considerately to Tony and Peter and Tony and Pepper and Steve and Natasha and Steve and a dead woman and Thor and Bruce and Thor and fucking Rocket, pretty much all of whom (with the exception of Tony and Pepper) have had so much less at stake, so much less time invested, and so much less of a reason for the audience to give a fuck.

But more importantly, I am writing this as a lover of Steve and Bucky, two people who have a well-established, rock-solid, indisputable human relationship that deserves so much more than what it got, especially given all of the unspeakable suffering these men have experienced separately and as a byproduct of their separation. Canonically. This is not made up fandom shippery superimposed upon Markus and McFeely’s precious creation. This is the truth of these two men as determined by the hands of the creators who also neglected them into nothingness, which is arguably a fate far worse than one or both of them dying an actual, final death.

I am left feeling disappointed and betrayed as a fan, wishing, as others have confided in me, that I was more of a Tony person and had been all along. Because then I would be walking away from this still grief-stricken, but at least it would be for the right reasons.

--

--

I will leave you with this, arguably one of the last in-character moments for Bucky and Steve in the MCU. 

#avengers endgame #salt #endgame spoilers #avengers spoilers #meta

[gentleknj]

consequences (part 2) | kth

✧ pairing: kim taehyung x reader / crime au

✧ genre: angst, light smut, breaks of fluff because i needed to break up all that angst.

✧ word count: over 6k  ✧ summary:  This is a love story of two people, told in chronological order. Lovers on the lam was never going to be an easy feat. But falling in love wasn’t any easier than robbing a bank, especially if your love thrives in the midst of a drug war. One from a broken home and the other from an underground drug world, will this love triverse the odds or will it succumb to its demise?

✧ warnings: heavy swearing, familial issues, cheating, slight gore, mentions of drugs, guns, serious crimes, death, and alcohol. If you are easily triggered/very sensitive i recommend you not reading this. i’ve said it before and i will continue to say this until i run out of words to write. I would rather have 0 readers than harm anyone. enjoy. X

(ps i am so so sorry this is so late, but i promise the next chapter will be over 10k and there will be more backstory for both y/n and taehyung as well. thank you for the continued support, and i hope it lives up to your expectations)

masterlist

Love. A completely foreign concept to the blonde man, a feeling he thought he had only felt many years ago when his mother was still alive. But such a out-of-the-box feeling resonated from the figure beside him. Whatever he was developing with you, he knew it had to be protected and he would stop at nothing to do so.

It truly was astonishing how there was even any room for oxygen in the office, the tension thick enough to disperse the hydrogen from the oxygen atoms themselves. Jin’s hardset eyes continued to lock with Taehyung’s. The latter still found it harder to breathe, despite keeping his resolve. The older man waved gently for Laura to shut the door, making a tsk sound when she tried to leave while doing so. The sound alone drove chills down your spine as if it were some warning signal that only went off to alert full hell had broken loose.

“Laura, dear, please do stay. I think you’d at least like to get a goodbye in if this whole ordeal goes south.” Jin’s voice was sweet like honey, only stinging like the bee it was made from. Such a handsome man, kind and gentle looking, but his soft features were a ploy to deter you from the malevolence brewing inside.

The blonde woman swallowed thickly before doing as told, closing the door to cut off the party unfolding beneath them.

“Now, I’m aware that Mr. Jeon has told you about a job tonight, is that correct?” Jin spoke as he shifted his position, resting against the front of the doe eyed boys desk flatly on his palms. The tone of his voice kept Taehyung on edge, his digits sweating against yours as he gripped you tightly, stepping in front of you just a fraction. “Ah, well, there have been a tiny change in plans. You see, what you collect tonight is to be returned here to me. Of course, you all get your cut, but only what is seen fit for the effort I see you put in.”

“Sure. It doesn’t bother me either way. I drop a few bodies, hand you your shit and leave.” The blonde male fired, feline eyes never leaving his targeted audience.

“Mm. I see.” Jin reached up to gently rub his chin in what seemed to be annoyance, quickly standing to his full height as he adjusted his expensive blazer. “You and Jungkook are to head to the docks and disband this poker game to bring me my payout.” His expression was now calm, unreadable almost as he sat further onto the edge of the wooden desk.

“But it’s mine, is it not?” Jungkook’s features were hard, emotionless save for the quick tilt of his head to the side. Taehyung knew that gesture all too well, his friend was ready to pounce and quite literally rip apart Jin’s throat in pure anger despite, howbeit, his formalities still lacing his voice. “Those men owe me, sir. I don’t mind splitting my profit 70-30 with you-”

“You expect me to take such a low share when I’m doing you a favor and not putting a bullet between your lady’s eyes after taking her on your desk in front of you? Hmm?”

He was egging Jungkook on, enjoying the rise he was getting out of him. Your free hand lent itself outwards to Laura, her hand welcoming yours immediately. Taehyung swallowed thickly, releasing your hand before outstretching his towards Jin. ”You have a deal,” The younger verbally sealing the negotiation. “My only request is that our girls are monitored among the guests downstairs. None of your men, or you, get alone time with them. You wouldn’t want us to focus on their safety while we’re gone and fuck up the job, would you?”

Taehyung was charismatic, it was hard to say no to him whenever he made any kind of business transactions. He radiated confidence even if his life was on the line. Jin turned his attention to the blonde man, eyebrows raising slightly as his expression became furthermore unreadable. Minutes passed silently as they looked at one another, the latter’s hand still outstretched causing your heart to pound with the muted bass from downstairs.

“We have a deal. 50-50, and the ladies join the party downstairs. I’ll have my men posted at every door, and if you or your ladies try anything, our deal is off. Do I make myself clear?”

The agreement was then made by the chorus of hums in agreeance, guns lowered and tucked away as Jungkook was released. The brunette boy wasted no time in making his way to his girlfriend, his emotions etched into his face. The tension was still residing in the stuffy office and the purple haired man nodded towards the door.

The four of you were to follow Namjoon to the room down the hall to equip the two men before they headed out for the night, the door slightly ajar as Jin’s voice rang out.

“Oh and boys,” He smiled smugly, taking a seat in the lavish chair behind Jungkook’s desk. “Don’t take too long, I may charge a late fee if you do. I’ll choose which of the girls will repay me for the time you waste of mine.” Taehyung grasped the younger boys arm firmly at his words and shoved him further down the hallway before he could reply with some remark that would guarantee the deal would be off.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were stood outside in the cobblestone driveway. Jungkook had said his goodbye to Laura before he left the house, instructing her to take care of herself by any means until he returned. The blonde mans eyes were fixed on yours, his hands taking yours firmly.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere alone and keep in mind what I taught you about close combat.”

“Tae, I’m not seven. I can handle myself if I feel my life is in immediate danger.”

“I know that. I just needed to hear it. I’ll call you when we’re coming back and then you and I can leave alright? I heard Yoongi’s got us a penthouse suite for the week and a run for us to do.”

“I don’t want to think about that until you’re back in one piece, got it? Focus on getting you and Jungkook back safely and then we can talk about the next run.” Your hand moved to cup his cheek gently, your teeth worrying into your lower lip as you paused. It was hard to grow attached to someone, let alone someone like him, a complete mystery. But the affliction that brewed in the pit of your stomach was hard to suppress. You had given your heart completely to him and you hoped he knows it. Falling in love wasn’t something you ever wanted to do, love never existing in your upbringing, but it sure did have a hold on your heart when you looked at him.

“I promise.” He nodded, tangling your free pinky with his own before leaving a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Within minutes, the car had disappeared into the traffic of the night, the pale woman beside you reminding you to join her inside. The heavy feeling that plagued your chest was one Taehyung felt himself. Only, he couldn’t focus on it, but instead the man beside him and the mission at hand.

Jungkook is amazing on his feet, agile and intelligent, he was a great man to fight beside. The tension that radiated from his body and filled the car, however, was something the younger man was always struggling to subdue behind a facade of indifference.

“They’ll be fine, you know.” The older of the two spoke, checking the magazine of his silenced .9mm as his friends knuckles turned pale at the intensity of his grip. “Even if that bastard wanted to put his hands on her, you know she could-”

“Just shut the fuck up, hyung. I don’t need to keep the image of him laying hands on her in the front of my mind. It’s bad enough he fucking came to my home.” Jungkook all but growled, jaw tight as the traffic heading to the docs blurred by.

The blonde man sat tight lipped the rest of the way, a frown remaining prominent on his otherwise model like features. Once the two arrived, there wasn’t much security for the game that nestled itself in a freight container, sitting against the waterside. The headlights of the car were turned off as they parked a few containers down, scoping out the area for any unexpected onlookers or security. Gun silencers in place, mags full and hearts silently racing, the two snuck amongst the shadows to the entrance and easily took out the two hefty guards. But not before one of them got a good left hook in on Taehyung, his lip splitting at the harsh contact. It only egged his anger and discomfort of the entire situation on further.

Loud music pumped through the metal container to muffle the chatter of the older men inside, the bickering amongst who was bluffing and playful banter about the others abilities at poker. It was almost a shame to break up such a domestic get together, as domestic as drug kingpins could get on a weeknight.

The brunette nodded his chin towards the opening gap of the container and the two stepped fluidly inside, neither hesitating to put a bullet between the two goons’ eyes that stood to overlook the game. The six men sat around the poker table shouted in a mixture of shock and anger upon the interruption.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon. I see you’re here to collect your money personally, eh?” The eldest man sat at the far end of the table spoke after they had quieted down, all eyes on the two young men with gun sights that moved between each of the elders.

“Something like that.” Jungkook quipped, a small smirk making an appearance. “I grew impatient of waiting. I have people to pay off as well, you see, it isn’t just about you.”

Laughter boomed from the bold man, hands moving to swipe through his taut hair, glasses dropping to the tip of his nose. “Young man, there is such thing as patience-”

“Cut the shit, Ahn, we aren’t here to talk. We’re here to get what you owe my friend here and leave. Now, either you can give us the fucking money, or we’ll put a bullet through your head and take your fucking pals out as well.” Taehyung made his way to the other side of the container to press the tip of his silencer firmly to the back of the man’s head, annoyance bubbling through his veins.

The smoke from the abandoned cigarettes around the table made the air thicker, apprehensive glances shared between the two boys. Neither one of them taken seriously by the gangsters sat before them. Each men in the room had their fair share of guns pointed at their skulls, so this was nothing new. But they needed to be provoked into cooperation and Taehyung was getting impatient as the thought of you being alone at the manor creeped up his spine.

Dry laughter befell the older men and that seemed to only heighten the blonde’s annoyance, his gun swiftly shifting momentarily to lodge a bullet in the man beside Mr. Ahn. The men’s head made a loud thudding sound as it hit the table, the laughter ceasing between the older men.

“Christ..” Mr. Ahn sighed, motioning to the three duffle bags sat in the corner of the container. “Your fucking money is in there. Take it and leave.”

Jungkook nodded, lowering his gun before shouldering two of the duffle bags and motioning for his friend to take the other.

“Don’t even think about retaliation, sir. I know where your daughter and her three children live.” The youngest man threw a smirk over his shoulder before taking a leave through the slightly ajar doors.

The walk wasn’t very far to the car although their pace was swift, the trunk opening upon a simple press of a button from the keychain that sat comfortably in Jungkook’s hand. The two boys shared a silent congratulatory nod as the duffles were stuffed in the trunk. The hour long drive back was now the only thing left of this fucked situation.

Back at the manor, Laura had flit between small groups of party guests to do her best at keeping the anxiety of the situation at bay. You on the other hand, gripped the mostly full bottle of soju in your hands, knee bouncing up and down as you sat on the bar stool that hugged the in-home bar. It was hard to keep the gnawing thoughts of negativity from clouding your mind. And the smug look on Seokjin’s face from the far end of the room didn’t help ease your mind one bit. You could feel his eyes boring into your skin, making you feel small and under a magnifying glass.

You had been too caught up in nursing the tiniest of sips from your bottle that you hadn’t noticed someone sat down beside you.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re frightened.” Namjoon chuckled before ordering a drink of his own.

“Oh, piss off.” You hissed, your nose scrunching slightly as you tucked into the bar counter further, eyes scanning the front door periodically in hopes of seeing the man that made you feel safe.

“Mm, feisty.” The purple haired man shook softly with laughter, sipping from his freshly made drink. “You know, you should ease up a little bit. We aren’t as fucked up as you’re making us out to be.”

“Oh yeah?” You finally looked at him, brows knotting together. If he wasn’t so intimidating and on the ‘opposing team’ you would’ve found him to be much cuter than your senses would allow. He’s probably a nice man, but right now you could only think about the million and one ways he could put you in danger right now with a simple signal from his boss just over 10 feet away.

He simply nodded, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. But before the conversation could carry out, you had anxiously glanced at the front door for the umpteenth time that night and were pleasantly overwhelmed by what you saw. You didn’t owe Namjoon a polite excuse before jumping from your seat, feet shuffling quickly through the intoxicated bodies.

Your hands immediately cupped Taehyung’s face to give his features a good look over, noting his split lip and deciding to ask him about it later before pulling him into the tightest hug you could manage. He’d only been gone maybe three hours, tops, but after growing used to doing any runs with him, this felt like you’d been apart for too long. Relief finally flooded through you when he let out a laugh at your actions, duffle dropping to beside his feet to wrap his arms around your frame.

Your embrace was short lived when none other but Seokjin himself interrupted with an unamused clearing of his throat. “Shall we head to the office, boys?” He spoke, a wry smile making an appearance.

Jungkook waved his girlfriend over with a small smile, the two interlacing hands before the four of you followed behind Jin to the office you met in earlier. The air seemed to be just as tense as a few hours ago, duffle bags making a quiet thud against the hardwood of the desk. 3.5 billion won sat comfortably between the three large bags, each bundle of money counted twice to ensure the full payout was there. Half was taken by Hoseok and Namjoon down to their leader’s car as the aforementioned man stayed behind, hand outstretched to Jungkook.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Jeon.” A cheshire cat smile making an appearance as the two shook hands.

Jungkook had stayed silent in response as Taehyung shook Jin’s hand as well, the older male leaving immediately after. You let out a heavy sigh, unaware that you had been holding your breath that entire time. And now that you could relax, the dried blood that sat against Taehyung’s swollen lip brought itself to the front of your mind once more.

“Christ, what happened?” You frowned, brows furrowing as you tilted his chin to get a better look at the bruising area.

Instead of answering, he simply sucked in a quiet breath when your fingertip ghosted over the wound sat proudly on his plump lip. A ‘tsk’ sound fell from your own lips, his face being tugged down gently by your hands as you leaned up on your toes to place a firm kiss to his forehead. Your fingers laced with his when Jungkook spoke up, Taehyung’s chest blooming with warmth at your simple actions. He hadn’t felt someone care about his injuries, however minor they may be in this case, since primary school.

“Goodness, what am I to do with you, raindrop?” Her voice was hoarse from the medication pulsing through the IV. “What happened?” She tried again, this time with a new softness in her tone.

The small boy looked at the floor, eyes brimming with embarrassed tears. “The boys at school told me I looked like I was poor. And they said mean things about you so I pushed one of them and told them they were stupid.” His voice broke as the tears spilled, tiny hands clinging to the soft fabric of her sweater.

Gentle coos filled the room along with his sobs. Her tired arms mustered as much strength as she could to pull him up into her lap as she sat at the edge of the bed, fingers carding through his messy brown locks slowly.

“It’s okay, raindrop. They don’t know any better, okay? Their parents didn’t take the time to tell them right from wrong. Now how about this, hmm? You and I can go down to Myeongdong tomorrow and do some clothes shopping okay? It’s going to be okay, baby.” She paused, pulling away enough to make eye contact with the sad boy in her arms. “I’ll make it all better, I promise you. But you have to promise to never get sent home from school for some dumb fight. Got it?”

He nodded hurriedly, afraid that if he even missed a beat that she would be disappointed in any hesitation. Any over thought reaction. She was all he had, and he couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if he made her hate him. Although, what he didn’t know, was that his mother wasn’t wired to hate the small, intelligent and kind boy that sat in her lap with snot and tears claiming their spot on his small, puffy face.

The two men bid their goodbyes after splitting the cash evenly, the younger of the two muttering an apology before whisking away his girlfriend to be a host of the party still carrying out strong on the floor below. The anxiety finally subsided as Taehyung’s hand laced with yours, a nod towards the door for a silent understanding of much needed rest. Although, with the amount of fear you had during this evening’s events; you were sure that it would be near sunrise that the two of you would finally be getting some sleep.

AUGUST.

-

Today had been marked the hottest day of the year, lucky for you two, you were calmly sat in the large apartment Yoongi rented out. From the windows, you could see all of Daegu. Soft chatter from some droning newscaster about a convenience store robbery from yesterday. Your hip rested against the grand piano Yoongi had bought and occasionally played when he stayed at the apartment between jobs. The sun beat down on the lively city, people going about their day and completely unaware of your actions the previous day. More so, they knew what you’d done, but not that it had been you.

Taehyung had gotten stir crazy, going on about how he had been itching to get his hands on actual cash and not on the cold plastic of the card his friend set up for money to be wired to for jobs. So, on a complete impulse, the two of you drove to the edge of town and robbed the fourth convenience store since last month. The registers were never full of enough money to raise eyebrows, but close to a million won was enough to report to the police.

Adrenaline, pure and hot as it coursed through your body. The balaclava snug against your skin, leaving your eyes and lips exposed. Two things Taehyung couldn’t quite get enough of. A friend of Yoongi’s, Park Jimin, decided he would be an accomplice so long as he got a third of whatever proceeds the two of you were able to get.

The van circled the block twice, the three of you scouting for any ‘heros’ that would come to the rescue of the young, unwary cashier that sat inside. Business was slow and there were hardly any people roaming the streets. What a perfect opportunity. Taehyung dialed Jimin’s cell, instructing him to keep it on speaker and sit around the block with the van running so they could make a smooth getaway.

The orange haired man was obedient to his friends instructions as he adjusted his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Good luck, I’ll be here.” A soft smile was hidden behind his mask as the three nodded to one another.

Your feet carried in sync with the tall blonde’s, hands entwined while you entered the store. No customers were inside, the adrenaline subduing slightly. Taehyung held the trash bag open as you pointed the gun at the cashier, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“Clean the register out!” You shouted, pacing slightly as you glanced around the store once more. “And don’t you fucking get ballsy kid. I won’t hesitate to fucking shoot you.”

Tears began pouring from the young man’s face and you felt a little guilty, this had to’ve been his first job. Ironed work vest, naive. He followed directions well enough, though, emptying the entirety of the register into the bag Taehyung had held out, gun tucked into the back of his pants snugly.

But before either of you could register the older woman that came out of the backroom, she fired a shot. It rung out in your ears as you turned to the source, morals out the window as you fired not once, but twice at her. The young boy had taken this opportunity to book it out of the store, jumbled words falling from Taehyung’s lips.

As your heart nearly stopped, you grabbed the bag from the tan boy’s hands, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him out to the van that now sat with the backdoor opened and a very panicked Jimin in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck! Step on it! Get us to the fucking apartment!” Taehyung’s body thudded into the bed in the back of the van, the door sloppily slamming shut as the orange haired male did as instructed, speeding off down various streets in an effort to not seem suspicious.

“Baby, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You cried, tearing the wool fabric from your face as well as his to hold your hair back.

Your hands were covered in blood, the bullet luckily hitting his lower left abdomen where there would be less chance of any major organs being completely thrashed.

“Fuck, J-Jimin! Learn to fucking drive, huh?” Taehyung shouted, face growing pale.

Sweat beaded on his hairline, large hands enclasping yours to add pressure to the wound. “Call Hyunsik and tell him to meet us at Yoongi’s place.” You shouted over your shoulder as the van haphazardly pulled into the basement parking lot of the apartment complex. Luckily enough, if you insert a special card into the elevator then you can bypass the front desk and any staff that would inevitably ask questions. “Baby, you’ll be okay. I’ve got you, okay?” You tried once more, reaching a hand up to brush hair out of your boyfriend’s face, blinking away the tears that spilled.

It was no easy feat to support Taehyung’s weight as you and Jimin helped him into the elevator, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he helped lean his friend against the elevator wall. Within the span of twenty minutes you had gone from an adrenaline junky to a complete mess. The man you cared so deeply for was now bleeding on you, losing consciousness as you made it to the dining room table of the apartment. The blood trailing itself from the elevator and across the white tiles.

Within minutes, you had managed to follow the instructions being given over the phone as Hyungsik informed you that he would be there in ten minutes. The blood was staining your hands at this point, tears mixing with sweat as you inspected for the exit wound.

“Yeah, yeah- There’s an exit hole, fuck! Please-” You sniffled, trying your best to remain level headed as every emotioned flooded through your head at once. “Please hurry.”

As he promised, ten minutes had passed and the elevator doors opened, a tall man in workout clothes entered the apartment. The size of the first aid kit in his hand looked more than equipped with whatever he could possibly need. But the amount of blood Taehyung had lost was more than any kind of first aid kit could even dream of having. Of course, medical TV shows were almost never correct in their diagnosis considering 90% of them were all fictional or dramas.

“He’s going to need blood.” Hyunsik spoke, gloves already on and kit opened beside the now pale man splayed on the table.

“Take mine.” Without a second thought you began searching for a tourniquet amidst the supplies. “I-I have O Negative, I can give to anyone. Please.” your eyes met the older man’s as tears blurred your vision.

A quiet nod was given as you sat at the head of the table, hands running through Taehyung’s hair in an effort to calm his grunts of pain. An IV was started as best as an at home one could be, your attention shifting to the pacing man across the room.

“Jimin,” Your voice shook. Clearing your throat as the orange haired man turned his attention to you, he looked almost as helpless as you felt. “Call Yoongi, please and let him know what happened okay? And- and figure out a way to clean up all the blood so we don’t get caught and you can have my share of what we took, okay?”

A sigh fell from his lips as he shook his head, long strides carrying him to the elevator as he dialled who you assumed was Yoongi. This was supposed to be simple, get in, intimidate the kid and get the cash. That was it. How could this have gotten so fucked in such a short amount of time?

A soft groan of your name came from the room down the hall, your thoughts interrupted by the sound. Padding quietly to the source, worry etched itself onto your features as you stood in the bedroom doorway. The curtains had been closed and a humidifier infused with lavender were all an attempt to keep the tan boy you’d grown very, very fond of, calm.

“Y/n.” He called again, arm over his eyes so he hadn’t a clue that you had been standing there.

“I’m here baby.” You started, carefully moving further into the room. “Are you okay?”

He jumped slightly at the closeness of your voice, the darkness concealing the majority of your figure, sve for the soft glow from the humidifier. But in the sudden movement, he winced and you could feel your chest tighten at the sound. His hand came down to pat the bed beside him, a pout forming on his pink lips. A quiet giggle escaped your mouth at the sight, he resembled a small child who was needy for affection and it made your heart swell. To see him acting normal like this after the events of yesterday was enlightening to say the least.

Once sat beside him, your hand gently brushed through his hair as the other carefully lifted the covers to investigate the large bandage that sat above his hip. He was lucky enough that the woman had bad aim and missed his organs. He sure was happy that he had gained a little bit of extra weight or else he probably wouldn’t have survived. That, and the handiwork of Hyunsik who, luckily enough, works at the hospital but is close friends to Tae as well as Yoongi, so this kind of a call wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him.

While you were lost in your thoughts, eyes glued to the injury, the blonde took a moment to admire your features, soft with a warm glow from the light of the humidifier, relentlessly beautiful. And as if he were a mad man, his large hands grasped your cheeks gently, tugging your face to his to place a firm kiss to your lips. He felt intoxicated when he kissed you, like nothing in the world went wrong and you were the only other person on the planet with him.

The hum you let out against his lips caused a wide, boxy smile to appear. One you hadn’t seen fully since before Kim Seokjin appeared that night in Jungkook’s office. The butterflies were entirely mutual, but he hadn’t a clue that they were. To anyone outside of the relationship, it was obvious you were in love. Madly in love.

But the words that hung at the back of your throat didn’t have the courage to climb out and make themselves known. Pulling his thoughts back to reality, admittedly yours as well, his large palm skimmed down your neck and down between your breasts, trailing down your stomach as he finally rested it in your lap. Long fingers tugged at the fabric of his sweats that adorned your body, his teeth capturing your lower lip between his to graze his pearly whites over. The feeling caused you to moan into his mouth, hands moving to push gently at his shoulders.

“You’re hurt baby, we can’t do that.” Bashful giggles left your mouth as you leaned back against your palms, your eyes meeting his.

He sported a very unconvincing pout, the corners of his lips tugging as you squinted at him. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel better. You are taking care of me afterall, like some kind of hot nurse.”

“Oh, no no. No foreplay, no sex, no nothing until you’re better. I know you’re tough, but I don’t want to hurt you even more okay? It was my fault anyways that you got hurt.” Your eyes fell to your lap were your hands now sat, guilt eating at your mind.

“What the fuck?” The volume of his voice took you by surprise, your eyes meeting once more. “You know that isn’t true.”

“I could’ve checked the store better before just pointing a gun in that kids face.” God, you felt like you’d let him down.

“Hey, neither of us expected there to be anyone else. I could’ve checked the store too, you know? It’s not your fault, I want you to know that.” Large, warm hands took yours, tugging you to lay beside him on the bed. “We both could’ve done better at checking, but you got me to the van. I remember little...snippets, if you will, of you helping hyung. If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it. Okay?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice now. Instead, you carefully tucked into his side, your face seeking a home in the crook of his neck. The two of you laid like this for a while in silence until Taehyung switched on the tv, flicking through the channels aimlessly. That is until the CCTV screencap of the two of you robbing the convenience store was on every news channel. Both of you watched intently as the reporter carried on.

“There have been reports of robberies in the last month by, what seems to be, the same couple. The two remain unnamed, but are armed and dangerous. Yesterday around 3pm, there were shots exchanged by the owner of a G25 near the edge of the city. The owner, Ms. Kim Heejung is in critical condition, and it is hard to tell whether or not she will survive the two bullet wounds. If you have any information about the suspects, we urge you to call 119. Thank you, and we will keep you updated as the story develops.”

Taehyung’s rumbling laughter took you by surprise, your brows knitting together as you moved to look at him. Before you could even question him, he shook his head and put one hand up in surrender.

“I’m not laughing at the fact that that woman has been hospitalized, it’s just funny to me that it took them this long to even broadcast our robberies. At this rate, they’ll never catch us.”

“Shut up, or you’ll jinx us.”

A sly smirk graced his features and you shook your head, moving to get up from the bed. But of course, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and anchored you in place. Giggles bubbled from your lips, your eyes rolling heavenward as soft lips left sporadic kisses against your face. Your attempts to push him way proved futile, but the laughter that bubbled between the two of you as you now lay face to face was enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. His breath fanned over your face, stray hairs of your own tickling against your skin.

Over the year, Taehyung had grown accustomed to being alone. Sleeping with someone was purely physical for him and he absolutely refused to let anyone spend the night with him afterwards. Feelings were just something that would inevitably leave him in shambles and he couldn’t quite bring himself to do such a lousy thing to himself again. So what was so different about you? Why is he letting you in so close? The laughter died down as these thoughts swirled his cluttered mind, hand resting in its place against your chin; thumb ghosting its pad against your cheek.

“You know, I can see the sadness in your eyes when you think like that.” You whispered, keeping your gaze on his lips as he put his full attention on you. “Whatever it is that makes the cogs in your brain work so furiously like that, that make your eyes seem so lost, I hope you’ll tell me one day.” Where the boldness came from that encouraged you to say this was beyond you. But before the cops catch you both, you opt for getting to know the man who has your heart in his giant, warm palms. All of your life was filled with horrible examples of marriage and family, money and drugs tearing everything at the seems. There was just something about him that made you want to pretend, just for a moment, that love exists and the world isn’t completely overrun by money hungry, sex driven, unintelligent beings with enough empathy to spare for a cockroach.

His touch retracted for a moment, mind stalling at how you were able to read him so well. It didn’t make sense how you were able to see that he was so caught up in his own mind when he had grown so talented at masking everything. The way he pulled away, even if it was for a second, you could feel any courage that grew on those words at the back of your throat had been squandered and replaced with a nauseating feeling of overstepping. And with that, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing.

“I’m going to make sure the blood trail we left is gone, yeah? Just...ring me if you need me, babe.” The tone of your voice faltered slightly, eyes glossed over before exiting the room. How could you have been so bold like that? To assume you know anything about the mystery that is Kim Taehyung?

Your bottom lip was taken between your teeth, hands finding comfort around the glass of wine you had left atop the piano. The keys seemed to beg to be touched, but you couldn’t be bothered to remember the sickeningly bittersweet lies that tangled with the melodies you’d practiced until your fingers hurt. Maybe you were in fact defective like your uncle had said all those years ago, incapable of anything but destruction and caressing those ivory keys you begged so fervently to save you.

-

a/n: AHHHH! an update, fiNALLY! again, i am so so so sorry this took so long to post but i had a lot going on. its also past midnight and ive been up for nearly 30 hours so i apologize for any mistakes that were left in, im posting this without editing it three times like i usually do (pls go easy on me). i hope you guys enjoy this series as much as i do, and feedback is always appreciated! x

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