#Not usually newly released or anything

[author-a-holmes]

Top 5 movies you've seen for the first time in the past few years?

Oooo! Tough one. I watch more tv series than movies, but I think I can probably grab five movies I've seen for the first time in the last 3 years...

Boss Level (2020) with Frank Grillo and Naomi Watts

The Lost City (2022) with Sandra Bullock and Channing Tatum

Mr. Right (2015) with Sam Rockwell and Anna Kendrick (I picked this one up because I love Anna Kendrick, but I loved Rockwell in Mr. Right so much that I went and looked at other his other films, which led me too...)

The Best of Enemies (2019) with Sam Rockwell and Taraji P. Henson And last but not least, the film that helped spark the inspiration for the Kavians in my novel Changeling...

Dark Waters (2019) with Mark Ruffalo and Anne Hathaway

[catboybiologist]

The year is 2030.

At the Cincinnati stop of her "world tour", Taylor Swift ends her set. As she walks off the stage, she leans into a nearby mic and says "oh by the way, I'm lesbian".

She's still milking a public relationship with a man named Chett Whitesman, so this is met with a combination of cheers and confusion. Immediately, the media mobilizes. They have to intercept her before she gets onto her private jet, and ambush her for an interview. Luckily, this has become much easier these days. Since the release of her 2027 album, "The Carbon Emissions of my Heart", T Swizzle has performed a ritual sacrifice of an endangered species on live camera every time she boards her jet, a #girlboss way of saying that her emotional pain can only be healed by the tortured screams of drowning polar bears.

(Since this practice started, a devoted faction of Swifties have started a carbon negative algae farming commune, with the express intent of negating taytay sweezie's contributions to climate change. Apparently "her tortured soul deserves to pollute without guilt". They haven't even come close to their goals.)

Taytor Twift is intercepted after this ritual, as she's walking up the steps of her plane. When asked what the lesbian statement was about, she nonchalantly says "oh, I thought it was clear that was a joke. Anyways, G T G!" , before biting into the still beating heart of an emperor penguin.

During her flight, discourse on the newly renamed twitter-X-ElonIsExtremelyVirile Corp goes nuclear like it never has been before.

There's a camp of swifties thoroughly convinced that her relationship with Chett is all a beard so that she can still keep touring in the New Christian Republic of Florida, and the interview at the plane was deepfaked.

A different camp of Swifties feels insulted and betrayed that she would be anything less than a paragon of allyship. To them, this is the worst slight the queer community has ever experienced.

A third camp of Swifties insists that she *is* dating Chett, and is also a lesbian. They get insulted that anyone would police Taylor's labels. Comparisons to the Boulder, Colorado shooter are made.

A group of non Swifties tries to point out that everyone is fucking insane and that 'ole taytay regularly tear gases pride rallies to make way for her promenade to stadium venues, and who the fuck cares about this shit and point out that what a billionaire celebrity does for five minutes of PR is not worth your attention or discourse, nor does it warrant harassing other people for the labels *they* use, and isn't it really fucked up that Taylor is making a joke of how people describe their identities? They are promptly doxxed, harassed, and banned.

Bi lesbian discourse is off the charts. Nothing Taylor said has anything to do with it, but it happens anyways.

A lone transsexual who actually goes outside once in a while tweets "hey guys isn't it kinda fucked up that 2.4 billion people have been displaced by mega storms this year that her jet contributes to and is also specifically designed to fly over" and is promptly doxxed and harassed off the platform.

After an exhausting 9 minute plane ride, Tailing Swiffer lands in Columbus for the next performance of her world tour. She unveils a new single that contains the line "ride my horse after dumping him, stepping up onto my SAD dle".

All is forgotten. All is quiet. The Swifties continue as usual, moving on to the next discourse about these lyrics.

[grimrester]

i am really so sorry to continue harping on about the watcher entertainment streaming service. but this kind of stuff (internet content as a business & marketing it as such) is truly my obsession, and i think i will implode if i don't talk about some of the takes i'm seeing.

i'd like to emphasize again i don't have strong feelings about watcher either way. i like ghost files, i watch mystery files sometimes, i watched worth it back in the buzzfeed days. i don't watch any of their shows religiously.

anyway, here's the main things i keep seeing crop up and my thoughts on each:

"watcher has 25 employees they have to pay, and employing people in this economy is good, so we should be banding together to pay them."

employing people is good if you currently have the capacity to pay them. i checked watcher's linkedin page, and many of their employees were hired within the last year or two. if they hired people they cannot pay with the business model they had before, something is seriously wrong with their internal bookkeeping/decision making. it means they either didn't know they couldn't pay these people long term, or they did know and were content with risking newly hired employees' livelihoods on a huge content pivot in the next year.

of note is that none of their employees' titles have anything to do with managing the finances of the company. they are the size of a small business but have no one aside from the figureheads of the company in charge of their finances.

this is the kind of company decision making that leads to downsizing and layoffs, which can be devastating. but you know what's worse than laying off a portion of your staff? laying off everyone because your business is going under.

"not everyone can afford the subscription, but those who can should pay it to support the watcher team."

no. $6/month for a couple hours of content (depending on what shows you actively watch and the natural fluctuation of their release schedule) is a fundamentally bad value. i can pay that much for a few movies on amazon. i can pay that much for dropout, if i want to support a smaller business instead.

and to be totally frank, even if people do sign up, i don't think they'd get enough to compete with the amount they get through patreon/sponsorships. and the fact that they didn't know how many of their subscribers would realistically sign up is a bad sign.

a pretty good conversion rate of free to paid subscribers of a service or content is 3% (usually accomplished through a free trial). given the very poor reception of the announcement, let's say about 1% of their 3 mil youtube subs pay for their service. that's 30k people paying for their new platform. that's $180k a month in their pocket.

(they currently only have 12k subs on patreon so we are being generous here.)

a sponsorship deal (based on my googling, i have less direct experience with this) is anywhere from $10-50 per 1000 views. they've gotten about 1 mil views on their last few videos. 3 mil subs is nothing to shake a stick at, but let's say they're on the lower end of the payscale at $25 per 1000 views. that's $25k a video, $100k a month if they release 1 video a week. their lowest patreon tier is 5 bucks, so even if all their subs are at that tier, that's another $60k, so $160k total. it's entirely likely they're bringing in much more than that when you factor in merch, adsence, etc.

did anyone on their team crunch numbers on how many people would need to sub to make the switch worth it? did anyone do market research on how many people they could convert to paid users? because if not, if they really didn't have a game plan for this, the subscription service was always doomed to fail.

"this was their only option to continue making the content they want to make, with the production value they want."

i watched their announcement video. a key point in that video is that they have done sponsored videos and that's what used to pay for their content, but they did not like the amount of creative control the sponsor had over the content.

look, i get that's no fun. we'd all love creatives to be able to make whatever they want. but when you are a small business with a team of employees relying on you, you have to think about making money, sometimes at the cost of creative liberties.

and they had so many other options to make money for the projects they want to make without jumping to a subscription platform.

they could have started actually promoting their patreon, and maybe done some restructuring of the tiers. why not a highly produced, special series just for patreon members? or a special high-budget episode of each series, while the main series is lower budget?

bite the bullet and continue taking sponsorship deals on some less-produced shows, while axing sponsorships from the ones the crew feels more passionate about.

schedule larger, blowout-production shows only when they can be afforded. this is what Notorious Amongus Guy streamer jerma does. he saves up for big productions like his baseball or dollhouse streams, so he can really get creative with them.

they had other options and they've tried very little, especially when you compare them to other content house business at similar scales. try guys and good mythical morning both put out significant content with significant staff, and have had to diversify their income streams with auxiliary products, shows with widely varied levels of production, etc. but it seems to be working for them. watcher has merch and that's about it, and seems to only want to increase the production quality of ALL their shows.

really, all this just boils down to a terrible business decision. it's hard to say if the watcher team is working with a consultant or anyone outside of their team, but they certainly don't have anyone internally who is experienced with running a business like this. to me, it seems very much like they got in a room together and did some extremely optimistic income ballparking with no research behind it.

and that might have been fine for three dudes running a channel alone, but if they're a business, they have to start making decisions like one.

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Delaying a Phantom

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Amren grapples with her loyalty to her High Lord and Lady. Meanwhile, said High Lady's fall from grace proves to be a major setback in her journey.

Read pt. 1 of Delaying a Phantom - HERE

Read pt. 6 - HERE

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/disfigurement, Brief mention of trauma flashbacks.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As soon as the trio had winnowed to the House of Wind, Amren had attempted to stage an intervention of some sort, if you could even call it that. It’s not like she was expecting him to drop everything that he was doing, but she was hoping to at least get some answers- or some semblance of a plan. She watched as Rhys tumbled into the first seat he saw, Mor eyeing them wearily.

A groan broke out of him, whether it was from the pain or the spontaneous interrogation, Amren didn’t care. She cocked her head to the side, black bob swaying with the movement. “Well?” Rhys cocked his head up, eyes finally falling on Amren, they flickered over to Morrigan for a second before he said “I am doing what is necessary.”

Amren’s eyebrow rose, and she shot a glance at Mor to find her examining her nailbeds, clearly already withdrawn from the conversation. “Care to input?” She asked, mildly annoyed at Morrigan’s carefree attitude. Morrigan’s head shot up, the blonde giving a non-committal shrug. “I don’t see how I’m involved in this.”

Amren shot her a puzzled look. “Your High Lady just fled your court, this guy-” Amren pointed to Rhys as he shifted in barely concealed pain. “-just brought another High Lords betrothed into our home, and we are on the brink of war. Remind me again how this doesn’t concern you?”

Morrigan shifted on her feet as Amren pointed out her willful ignorance. Her eyes darting between her and her High Lord. Her clear awkwardness had Amren floored. Did she think this didn’t affect her at all? Did she not see how this situation posed a risk to not only you, but the entire status of the Night Court?

Morrigan’s non-answer had Amren releasing a disregarding sigh. “You both need to get your head out of your ass.” She said, grey eyes settling onto Rhys yet again. “And you.” She began, turning her full attention to him. She crouched down, forearms settling on her knees as she squatted. She looked up at his face that was scattered in scuffs and newly forming bruises. She held no sympathy for him, her tone coming out slightly colder than usual. “Is it really worth losing her over this?”

Amren wasn’t about to dive headfirst into a fight between mates, it wasn’t her place. The last thing she wanted to do was take a few pages out of Azriel’s book and start a brawl with Rhys. She seemed to be caught in the middle, her loyalty being pulled taunt between the two of you, and if there was one thing she hated, it was picking sides. But regardless of the situation surrounding your disappearance, you were her High Lady, and she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to make Rhys realize what he seemed to be doing to you.

Rhys head lolled; his eyes unfocused for a second before they snapped to attention at her question. “It’s worth anything to keep you safe- to keep her safe.” He said, tone laced with a sort of desperation that Amren had never heard come from him. Despite his apparent fretting, Amren scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her.

“Don’t fool yourself, boy. You aren’t doing this for me.”

Azriel’s shadow was more persistent than you’d thought it’d be. No matter how fast you flew, the wind whipping past you and catching on your cheeks, the relentless blow of it stinging your eyes, it was right with you. It zipped around you, clung to you almost like a mother, and despite how at first you found it’s constant presence annoying, you began to enjoy the way it swept around you. After all those years you spent Under the Mountain, you forgot just how much you loved to fly.

I mean, of course, you had flown when you were in the Night Court, but after Under the Mountain, you could never quite bring yourself to let loose. But even before, when you were free to fly whenever you wanted, you were always so busy you either didn’t have the time or used your ability to fulfill your duties. You never really were able to sit and appreciate just how much you loved the feel of it. The way your stomach dipped when you suddenly plummeted, the wind that kissed you and ran its fingers through your hair, and the view.

By the Cauldron, the view.

The lands of the Day Court sprawled out beneath you, rolling fields and steady streams that had a goofy grin plastering its way onto your features. You could see every tree that dotted the fields, the sparse houses that appeared every now and then. This was the closest to peace you had been in a long time. The feeling had you spinning in the air, your wings tucking in to do a complete roll that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, the cloudless sky not doing much to stop the way it melted into your skin and had a warm, joyous feeling beginning to sprout inside you. Your tattooed hands extended, feeling the wind fighting to press them down back to your sides as you studied the line that separated the sky and the horizon.

A rush of pain violently burned its way down the bond so fast you wailed, your figure seizing.

And then you were plummeting.

You couldn’t get your wings to move, couldn’t will your body to do anything as it continued to lock up. The pain still fought its way through the bond.

Pain cascaded down your back and a choked, pained sound left you again before you hit the first tree.

You collided, and you felt the branches hurtling into you, the sticks scratching at you. They cut you open, ruthlessly scraping up against you as you crashed through the trees. It felt like you were getting pummeled, the leaves hitting your face before you finally felt yourself collide into the ground.

You were dying.

There was no other explanation. Pain overtook you like a blanket, searing your nerves and making a piercing scream break through you. You twitched, a sob leaving you as you dug your fingers into the ground. Tears slid down your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, chest stuttering as you tried to breath. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t get a breath in, and another wail left you with less air.

Your forehead rested in the dirt; the crater you had made from your fall didn’t provide any comfort as your body flinched in pain. You felt a brief wave of revolting nostalgia wash over you, as if it was raking its grotesque fingers over your senses. It reminded you all too well of the cell you had been in Under the Mountain, the grime that had grown to be a permanent fixture on your skin.

Another throb had you snapping out of the flashback, and you came to your senses well enough to realize that the pain was coming from your wing. You attempted to unfurl both your wings, beginning to stretch them out before a blinding pain had you seizing up again. Your left wing only twitched in response, shuddering against the pain that went through it. You craned your head, sweat beginning to bead on your brow as you laid your eyes on the damage you did. The membrane was still intact, but the drooping told you that it was obviously broken.

Fuck.

A yell of frustration broke from you, and you blinked away the tears blurring your vision as you fought your way through the pain, a hand coming to push yourself up. You hauled yourself to your knees, another groan leaving you and you pushed yourself to your feet. The weight of your wing pulled it down, and it had you clenching your jaw in an effort not to cry out again. You braced yourself on a nearby trunk, looking around for any obvious landmarks to tell you where you crashed. You swallowed thickly, attempting to asses how you were going to complete the rest of your journey on foot. Despite your best efforts, the pain made it hard to think. You were almost to the Dawn Court border, so you started with the obvious decision.

You needed to get your wing patched up.

[meazalykov]

bayern drama

sydney lohmann x platonic!jamal musiala x bayern!reader

summary: your girlfriend doesn't like what she sees

warnings: jealousy

you take a deep breath, glancing at the crisp, beige, newly released bayern munich kits you're about to wear for the first time. 

it’s a mix of excitement and nerves, your fingers running over the fabric on your body as you sit in the lounge area. the room is filled with energy, players milling around, chatting, waiting for their turn in front of the cameras. 

the men's and women’s teams are mixing today, and for some reason, that makes the anticipation more intense.

“you look fascinated, do you like the new kits?” jamal asks, sinking into the seat next to you, grinning like the goofy friend he always is. 

you’ve known jamal for a while, both on and off the field. not just because you share a team connection, but because of kyla, your cousin—his girlfriend. 

the two of them had been together for over a year now, and it was still a little surreal to think about how small the world was. kyla and jamal? the shy football star and your wildly outgoing cousin? who would’ve thought?

“yeah,” you nod, offering a small smile. “just don’t let me outshine you in front of the camera, musiala.”

he laughs. “we’ll see about that.”

you lean back, watching as some of the others are called for their shoots. sydney is across the room, deep in conversation with some of her teammates, her blonde hair shining under the lights. 

she glances your way, a quick smile passing between the two of you before she turns back to talking. 

you've been with sydney for about eight months now, and despite being teammates, it’s never felt like too much—if anything, it feels right. 

the shared routines, the chemistry on and off the pitch, the little moments between training sessions. you two just fit.

still, today feels different. maybe it’s the mingling of the men's and women's teams, the unfamiliar setup. it’s not every day you get thrown into a photoshoot with jamal musiala, of all people. 

it should be fun. light. nothing serious.

"so," you start, leaning your elbows on your knees as you look at jamal, "how’s kyla been?"

he smiles at the mention of your cousin. "she's good. busy with school and all, but you know her—she never slows down."

"yeah, she really doesn’t," you say, shaking his head with a fond smile. 

"she keeps me on my toes." he laughs. 

"as she should," you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "you're lucky to have her."

jamal grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "trust me, i know."

before you can say anything else, sydney’s voice cuts through the conversation. 

“hey, what are you two talking about?” her tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite place.

you glance up at her, and she’s standing there with a hand on her hip, eyes flicking between you and jamal. she walks over and plops herself down next to you, closer than necessary, her hand sliding onto your thigh. 

it’s subtle, but you notice. the way she’s suddenly more... present.

“just talking about kyla, my cousin on my mom’s side of the family” you say, giving sydney a reassuring smile. 

“jamal’s still somehow managing to keep up with her.”

jamal chuckles and jokes, “barely. she’s a handful.”

sydney hums, but doesn’t say much else. her fingers drum against your leg, her body leaning into yours just a little more than usual. 

you glance at her out of the corner of your eye, sensing something off. it’s not like her to be this... clingy. possessive, even.

jamal seems to notice it too because he raises an eyebrow, shooting you a questioning look. 

you shake your head slightly, hoping he’ll get the hint to just ignore it.

"so, are you two doing anything special this weekend?" you ask, trying to shift the focus away from whatever weird vibe sydney’s giving off.

jamal opens his mouth to answer, but sydney cuts in, her voice a little too sweet. "oh, i'm sure they’ll be busy. right, jamal?" her arm tightens around your waist as she speaks, her gaze locking on jamal like she’s challenging him.

jamal’s eyes widen slightly, and he lets out a nervous laugh. "uh, yeah, we’ve got a few things planned." he glances at you again, clearly picking up on the tension. 

"you know how it is. always something going on."

you bite your lip, trying to keep the situation from getting too awkward. but it’s hard not to notice the way sydney’s holding onto you, the way her body language is practically screaming insecurity. 

it hits you then—she’s jealous. of jamal. of your conversation with him. it would be almost funny if it wasn’t so out of character for her.

"babe," you say softly, leaning closer to her, "what's going on?"

"nothing," she says quickly, but you can tell by the way her hand tightens on your thigh that it’s anything but nothing.

you exchange a glance with jamal, who’s trying his best to stifle a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. he gets it now too. the fact that you both know what’s happening seems to make it even funnier.

"you're jealous, aren’t you?" you ask, teasing her lightly, but there’s a gentleness to your tone.

sydney scoffs, but her cheeks turn pink. "of course not. why would i be jealous?"

"oh, i don’t know," you say, grinning now. "maybe because you think jamal and i are getting too chummy?"

"please," sydney rolls her eyes, but there’s a playful smile tugging at her lips. "i wasn’t worried about you."

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

she smirks. "i was worried about him."

jamal lets out a bark of laughter at that, throwing his head back. "me? seriously?"

"you’re too pretty for your own good, musiala," sydney says with a shrug, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s not actually serious.

you laugh, shaking your head as you wrap an arm around sydney, pulling her closer. 

"you don’t have to worry about either of us, babe. jamal’s with kyla, and you know i don’t swing his way. or any guy’s way, for that matter."

sydney pouts a little, but you can tell she’s already starting to relax. "i know. i just... didn’t like how cozy you two looked."

"we’re just friends," you say softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "and besides, you’re the only one i’ve got eyes for."

sydney smiles at that, leaning into your embrace. "good. because you’re mine."

jamal shakes his head, still laughing as he stands up. "i’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone and talk to michael before i get caught in the middle of something."

"smart move," you call after him, watching as he heads off to join olise by the snack stand. 

you turn back to sydney, your fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "you okay?"

she nods, but there’s a sheepish look on her face. "i’m sorry. i don’t know what got into me."

"it’s okay," you say softly, squeezing her hand. "but you don’t have to worry. ever. i’m all yours."

sydney looks up at you, her eyes softening as she leans in for a kiss. "i know. and i’m sorry for being weird. it’s just... i love you, and sometimes i get scared that someone else will see what i see and try to take you away."

you smile against her lips, pulling her closer. 

"no one’s taking me away from you, syd. i love you too much."

sydney smiles, her hand resting on your cheek as she kisses you again, deeper this time. 

"good. because i plan on keeping you forever."

you laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the woman in your arms. 

"forever sounds pretty good to me."

masterlist

[robin-evry]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 🐉🐉

A dragon is a magical legendary creature that appears in the folklore of multiple cultures worldwide. The Oriental Dragon (also known as the Eastern Dragon) is another one of the world's most commonly known dragons. They are found in folklore, mythology, and religion all throughout East Asia. These dragons all symbolize different things, varying depending on the culture and folklore.

( English is not my first language)

I imagine dragon!yuu having a serpentine since Eastern dragons, also known as Chinese or Asian dragons, typically have long, sinuous bodies, resembling a snake with limbs. their length can vary greatly depending on the context and depiction. While there isn't a standard measurement for these mythical creatures, they are often portrayed as being significantly long, sometimes hundreds of feet in length.

They are covered in fish-like scales, which can vary in color and size depending on the dragon's type and environment. Scales often have a shimmering quality. The underbelly is usually a different color or texture from the rest of the body, often smoother and softer.

Plus their stomach Highly adaptable, capable of digesting almost anything. In some legends, dragons have a second stomach for storing treasure.

Once a month they tend to shed their dried skin into a new lighter and shinier one than before, and they can use the leftover skin to sell for money.

In their human form, I imagine them being able to hide their dragon features from the school. But they can still show their dragon features in human form. Basically its similar to Dan heng and his imbibitor lunae form from HSR

I also imagine them not revealing others about their true identity much later in the storyline, maybe during Leona overblot dragon!yuu reveal their true identity because it takes place in an area that is full of sand.

Before the reveal of their true identity, students and staff believe that dragon!yuu is only able to water magic or they excel at water magic so they use it more often then other forms of magic.

Dragon!yuu are able to use some ancient magic that allows them to control and create space, they use a spell to create their own realm to stay at by putting a symbol on a door or just put a spell on an object that can open as a door like a suitcase, or teapot to build their realm in.

It's basically like the teapot in genshin. A living space for the traveler, inside the teapot is a realm, where dragon!yuu sleeps it's basically a mansion and a large lake nearby, the mansion is newly built for grim or the first year if they want to sleep in the teapot.

Some students would definitely sneak for dragon!yuu help since dragons in some cultures bring good luck and protection, so they have been trying to take advantage of these abilities. Specifically Azul.

Azul would definitely try to convince dragon!yuu to give up their power and give it to him, since dragons in eastern culture are portrayed as very wise, and it's gonna be more complicated.

Since eastern dragons are portrayed as being more connected to water and weather, dragon!yuu would have the ability to manipulate the weather so when they feel down a bit it will start to rain.

I imagine dragon!yuu would be interested in the history of twisted wonderland, Mr trein most favorite students. You can find them browsing the libraries for history. And be interested in collecting items by doing this basically they're preserving those items. In their teapot or a room in ramshackle there's an entire room filled with ancient artifacts, And there's one specific shelf that holds items they received In twisted wonderland, so if they're leaving twisted wonderland the memories of NRC would be preserved in these items.

Dragon!yuu also have the talents of engineering, Crowley commission dragon yuu to create a device that allows them to control the weather,Sometimes dragon!yuu have trouble sleeping so they also create a device that releases a special mist that helps anyone to have a blissful sleep and helps whoever is struggling with sleep.

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Chapter 1

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.

Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.

Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.

Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.

When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?

He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.

Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.

"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."

"What?"

Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.

"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."

Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.

"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"

The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.

"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."

"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"

"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.

Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university." 

"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"

"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."

"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"

"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"

ch. II

[7ndipity]

“Made For Me”

Yoongi x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Yoongi comes home super needy, that’s it. It’s just pwp.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, oral(fem receiving), unprotected sex(pls don’t do that), hair pulling, mentions of color system, swearing, not proofread

A/N: No thoughts, head empty, just horny, needy Yoongi. You’re welcome.(this was also partially requested, so thank you to the lovely anon who motivated me to finish this!)

Masterlist

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You were stood at the kitchen sink, washing a few stray dishes, when you heard the front door open and close.

“Y/n?” Yoongi called.

“In here.” You called over your shoulder.

No more than a few seconds later, a pair of strong arms slinked around your waist, a grin spread across your face as you felt him let out a contented sigh as he pressed himself to your back.

“Hi.” Yoongi said lowly in your ear.

“Hey.” You chuckled, leaning back into his embrace slightly. “How was your day?”

“Long.” He replied, brushing your hair aside so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Kept thinking ‘bout you.”

“Really? What about?”

“How much I missed you, how much I love you, how good you felt last night.” His voice dropped as he spoke, a shiver running up your spine as he trailed his fingers across your stomach.

You turned your head to meet his hooded stare, allowing him to draw your lips into a slow, languid kiss, his tongue immediately probing into your mouth and earning a weak noise from you, spurring the growing warmth in your belly.

Slowly, he pulled away, looking up at you with dark eyes.

"C'mon." He whispered, taking your hand.

"Where are we going?" You asked in an equally soft tone, feigning ignorance.

"You know damn well." He said, making you giggle at his impatience. It wasn’t a side of him you got to see often.

He was forward when it came to initiating sex, yes, but he would usually take more time to wind you up, taking a great deal of pleasure from teasing you til you were as desperate as he was. Granted, it never took much to get you there, but still.

Leading you into the bedroom, he released his hold on your hand just long enough to pull the curtains, darkening the room just enough and giving that extra feeling of security that he knew you preferred.

“Now, where were we?” He asked, coming back to where you waited at the foot of the bed, watching him carefully. Once he was close enough, you pulled him in for another deep kiss, earning a pleased sound from him as you let your hands wander as his did, removing layers of clothing and caressing the newly revealed expanses of your bodies.

"So fucking soft." His lips dragged along your skin as he spoke, gripping onto the fullness of your sides as he kissed along the line of your shoulder, drifting down towards your chest.

"Yoongi." You breathed, not trusting your voice as he pushed you to lie back on the bed, now only in your bra and panties, catching you off guard as he knelt between your legs, rather than looming over you as he tended to do when he was in these moods.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.” He soothed, his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver and clench around nothing.

“But first, I want you to suffocate me with these fucking thighs.” He growled, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively in his rough hands.

He leaned in, pressing a teasing kiss to your heat before licking a stripe over your underwear, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Can never get enough of this pussy.” He murmured, hooking his fingers into material to pull them down, letting out a shaky breath as he took in the sight of you laid bare before him.

“Already so wet, and I’ve barely done anything. Are you really always this needy for me?”

“Yes.” You admitted, not caring that he was trying to tease you, you just wanted him to do something, anything. “Yoongi, please.”

“Hmm, since you said please.” He leaned in again, licking another stripe through your folds, humming at the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He teased your clit lightly, kissing and licking the sensitive bud gently before sealing his lips around it and sucking harshly, causing your hips to buck up into his face.

“Fuck!” You squirmed as he continued his ministrations, but he held you in place, hooking his arms around your legs to keep you from moving around too much.

He repeated the pattern of teasing licks and suction a few more times before slipping a finger in, making you whine slightly, needing more, but knowing if you were too impatient, he would give you nothing.

Luckily, he could read your body like a book, adding a second finger as he pumped into your squelching heat, curling them upwards slightly to find the spot that made your head fall back as you let out another choked whine.

“I’m-, fuck, I’m close.” You said, hands coming down to tug at his hair.

He hummed against you, the reverberations sending you toppling over the edge, moaning his name and rutting against his face as you came.

He worked you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, only stopping when he felt you twitch from sensitivity, pulling away to smirk at you, wiping the sheen of your arousal from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before coming up to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Turn over.” He ordered as you parted, his voice still soft despite the lustful rasp in it.

With shaky limbs, you rolled over onto all fours, letting him manhandle you slightly as he moved you into the position he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He growled, leaning over you, kneading your ass as he ground his hips against yours teasingly, letting you feel his hard length rub along your wet folds, collecting some of your wetness, before suddenly pressing against your entrance and slipping in, not stopping until he was fully sheathed in your twitching heat.

You moaned in unison at the stretch before he quickly began to set the pace, building up a tempo that had your tummy tightening again already. Your limbs began to shake, arms quickly giving out and letting you fall forward with your face in the pillows, muffling your increasing whines.

Letting out a low growl, Yoongi caught hold of your hair, tugging you back up so that your back was pressed to his front as he continued to pound into you.

“Fuck, this fucking pussy feels so good.” He grunted, snapping his hips into yours at a near animalistic pace. “Was fucking made for me, wasn’t it?

“Yoongi.” You whined as you clutched at him for stability, tears slipping down your face.

“Color?” He asked, slowing slightly as he noticed your tears.

“Green, so fucking green.” You panted. “Please, don’t stop.”

He grinned before picking up his pace again, slamming into you harder and making you cry out.

“God, you’re so perfect, can’t believe you’re mine.” He groaned, thrusts growing more frantic and sporadic as he neared his high.

“Y-yoongi.” You whimpered his name again.

“What is it Doll, hmm?” He asked, feeling you clenching around him. “You need to cum again?”

“Yes!” You gasped. “Please, Yoongi, please!” You were babbling, and Yoongi could tell you were close to your breaking point.

Slipping a hand around your front, he found your clit and rubbed it furiously, making you quake beneath him as you came, squeezing him so tight he could barely move.

“Fuck, Doll!” Pulling out, he quickly jerked himself a few more times before cumming across your back, painting your skin with splashes of white.

Fatigue setting in quickly, you more or less collapsed on the bed, drifting in and out for a minute, slowly focusing back in as you felt a calloused hand gently brushing the hair out of your face, stroking your cheek tenderly.

“There you are.” Yoongi said, a soft smile teasing at the corners of his lips as your eyes focused on him lying next to you, a blanket now covering the both of you.

“You checked out on me for a minute there.” He said gently. “You okay? How do you feel?”

“Good, tired.” You said, giving him a sleepy grin. “How ‘bout you?”

“Better now.” He said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head. “Just hold me?”

“Done.” He said, scooching closer and wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you.” You said, snuggling against him.

“Thank you.” He replied.

“For what?”

“Everything.” He said. “For loving me, for letting me love you.”

Gosh, you really do turn into the biggest softie after sex, don’t you?” You giggled.

“Agh, nevermind, just go to sleep.” He grumbled, resting his head on yours.

“Yoongi?” You said.

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz @ldysmfrst

[90ekz]

across the map.

☾ summary: usually onyankapon likes to keep his face shaven and sleek, but once he notices how you can’t keep your eyes off his new facial feature, he has other plans.

☆ tags: black fem reader, chubby reader, facial hair kink (??? idk man), sub!ony for like 2 seconds, overstimulation, porn w small plot, teasing, creampie, p in v, liberal use of “ma” & “mama”, mention of pregnancy, not proofread, vaginal fingering, onyan & y/n are roommates in college, business major onyan <3

♡ a/n: sorry for being gone so long, i’ve literally been so busy 😭😭, but thank y’all for 500 followers !!! the support means the world to me.

it wasn’t even intentional.

onyankapon had gotten so busy with his classes overseas that he’d slipped up on his weekly shave. he typically didn’t grow facial hair very fast anyway, but all of a sudden his goatee was sprouting like weeds.

he couldn’t figure out why, until he’d locked eyes with the facial serum connie had gifted him for his birthday. dumbass.

in theory, onyankapon should’ve already shaved it. he told himself that he wouldn’t do it the night before his flight, but he really didn’t have time to keep up with that promise.

and he was lazy.

onyankapon tried to ignore it, but everytime he went to touch his face he was reminded of it, and it just made him cringe. he was finally going home to you tomorrow, and he wanted to look perfect for his baby.

when he’d left home three weeks ago, you were so sympathetic and understanding about the lack of time you were gonna have to talk but still a bit somber, knowing your conversations would be reduced to good morning & good night texts.

now, he stood over his hotel room sink, attempting to both not fall asleep and shave at the same time.

it wasn’t working.

“fuck it. not even finna do allat,” he just flicked the bathroom light off, knowing had a long flight in the morning and it was already nearing one in the morning. he just hoped you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with his stubble.

the next morning, onyankapon felt his lips curl upward when he received a million texts of you being so giddy about him coming home.

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: BAE

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: OMG BABY UR COMING HOME 2DAY

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: HAVE A GOOD FLIGHT BABY ILYSMMMM

the whole flight home, all onyankapon could think of was your plush lips against his and that round ass that he would inevitably be fondling soon. the woman next to him probably thought he was a psychopath from the way he was randomly giggling to himself.

walking off the plane and eventually into the baggage pick up area where he finally saw your face for the first time in almost a month, onyankapon was overwhelmed.

the way your face lit up when you saw him, your body in that pretty little skims dress, god.

he felt like he was in love again for the first time.

you threw yourself into his arms and he was just as excited to see you, but he couldn’t help but kneed the fat of your ass as you kissed him senseless.

“have some shame, we’re in public.”

“can’t help it. my sweet lil’ thing, i missed you…” you gasped as he gripped your ass once more, but not for the reason he thought you did. your eyes had finally zeroed in on his newly bearded face, and you couldn’t help the ache that suddenly appeared downward.

you never saw onyankapon’s facial hair, or rather, he never even gave you the opportunity to see it. as soon as you jokingly commented on how his stubble was tickling you, he was in the bathroom with the door locked while the clippers released a small whirring sound in the background.

you’d always been curious. you liked a lil goatee here and there, but it was never a major turn on or anything.

but on your nigga? yeah, you needed him bad.

he wet his lips as he peered down at you, even giving you a peek of his shiny diamond grill as he smiled at you. you trailed behind him slightly as he led you to your car, trying not to stumble from the heartbeat down below.

“shiiii, slut me out.”

“whatchu say, ma?”

“nun! cmon boy, you walk slow.”

onyankapon let his hands wander the whole drive home. on your thigh, rubbing against your nipples, even rubbing small circles onto your clit at one point.

you two barely got into the house before onyankapon was caging you against the wall and attacking your neck with his teeth. all you could hyperfocus on was the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin.

your hand snaked to rub the sweet spot on his neck, smiling to yourself as he turned to putty. he smiled into your neck, his own hands wandering under the seam of your dress. his eyebrows jumped upward at your wetness.

“fuck.. all this for me mama?” you nod weakly as he immediately pushes two fingers knuckle deep into you, already knowing that you’d been preparing yourself for when he got home.

any words this man was saying to you were barely making it into your ears. anytime onyankapon spoke, you were immediately drawn to his lips and chin, and just how mature he looked.

it was almost sophisticated.

“been gone for so long and you won’t even focus on me. makin’ me sad, baby.” onyankapon breathed out, still a bit in disbelief that you were finally in his arms again. his fingers worked an almost melodic rhythm inside of your cunt, while his palm kept your clit company.

“more—fuck, onyyy,” you couldn’t help but whine out louder as his stubble scratched against your neck once more. the scratch only added to the knot threatening to burst in your stomach.

“shit, get these off mama.” onyankapon tugged at your dress and the panties underneath, silently begging you to get rid of them.

“you nasty.”

“you want me to make you nut or nah?” you just smacked your lips and removed your dress. his eyebrow quirked when you didn’t immediately take off the panties and bra accompanying it, but he dropped to his knees nonetheless.

you shivered at his warm breath ghosting against your clothed pussy. he continued to lap and lick at you, leaving a heavy feeling in your gut.

yet you still wanted more.

you wanted more for the sole purpose of feeling his chin hair scratch and rub against your pussy, your neck, all over you, wherever he wanted.

“c-can you—fuck!” onyankapon just smiled at you, already knowing what you wanted him to do, all you needed to do was beg for it. he just continued his skillful movements, just wanting to tease you for a little longer.

“what can i do for you, my love?”

onyankapon struggled to conceal his laugh, because he expected that you wouldn’t beg to him, not without a lot of coaxing that is.

what he didn’t expect was for you to slip your panties down while he wasn’t looking and stuff his face nose-deep in your cunt without warning. his eyes grew wide as you started shamelessly fucking his face, while he struggled to not choke on his own moans.

between your essence dripping down his chin, the grip on the back of his neck and your whines, onyankapon’s cock found itself getting much stiffer much quicker than he anticipated.

every bump of your clit against his nose against his nose sent a zap to his dick. he just sat and took it, his grip on your thighs tightening so much that he started to wonder if he was gonna break skin.

sex with ony’ wasn’t usually this rough, but three weeks away from each other had your bodies screaming the second you came together again. he really didn’t know how you’d react to seeing him again, but he hadn’t considered that you’d be this dominant.

neither did he think about how much he’d like it.

you pulled him away suddenly, presumably so he could catch his breath. onyankapon could swear that you were talking to him, but his mind was completely gone.

“‘m sorry, mama. ‘shouldn’t have done it, just lemme please you.”

before you could respond, his tongue was roughly digging you out, his grip on your waist being the only thing keeping you on earth. he didn’t stop licking until you’d cum on his tongue twice and were begging him to stop.

“ooh, ony—too much..”

he barely cared, making that known as he continued to press kitten licks to your sensitive hole.

“hey—boy are you even listening to me?” onyankapon gave you a stank look as you pushed him away with your foot. you couldn’t help but laugh at how badly this nigga wanted you.

“i wasn’t done.” suddenly you were being flipped over and onyankapon’s thick cock was laying against the skin of your stomach. he looked just about ready to rip you apart.

he gave your clit a few taps before pushing home, the action making your eyes roll back. he didn’t hesitate to slam himself into you roughly back to back, the meat of your ass slamming against his balls.

onyankapon began to kiss on your neck, and smirked into the crook of it when he felt your cunt spasm around him.

“missed you so much ony—needed t-this..”

“fuck, missed you so much more.. such a good girl…” his thrusts only sped up as you whined his name louder and louder with each kiss his cock placed against your cervix. his grip on your waist was tight enough to leave bruises, as he latched onto you like he was afraid you’d slip away from him.

without any warning, onyankapon strokes his fingers against your clit, and your losing your mind while cumming on his cock. he just coos at you, wondering what he did to deserve you. the overstim quickly sets in though, and you’re not-so quietly begging him to slow down.

“shhh, i know you can give me one more ma, i know you can…”

‘one more’ turned into two, three, and eventually four drawn out orgasms, all sprayed onto onyankapon’s lower abdomen. fuckin’ liar. “mmhm, want me to nut in you mama? want this mini-me in you, yeah?” all you could do is nod weakly as he pumped you full, his thrusts finally slowing. your eyes cracked open to see him smirking down at you while he languidly stroked your cheek to make sure you were still with him.

“you so cute. you still with me?”

“mmm.”

onyankapon just smirked as he got some things to wipe you up with. after a few minutes, you finally started to sit up and recover, only to get an immediate attitude with him.

“i can’t believe i let you nut in me,” you mumbled as he turned on the newest episode of General Hospital. he just laughed at you, not being worried considering you’re on birth control.

“you’re so into the beard, you woulda begged me to anyway.” you just scoffed before walking to the bathroom to pee, knowing that he was right but not wanting to admit it.

“i was not.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐆𝐨𝐝 🔞⚠️

In which Jungkook isn't sure what he hates most anymore: her, the past, himself, or you.

Tags/Warnings: Non-idol AU, massive warning for implied ED & body dismorphia, hurt and comfort, heavy angst in specific parts, past emotional abuse (implied), strangers to lovers, road to self acceptance?, smut but it's not the main focus

Length: Very long, 7k words

A/N: If you think you've read it before, you're probably right. This fic was posted before on a different account, but it has always been written by me. After much consideration and multiple requests, I've brought it back here to my main blog.

Furthermore, please read the tags carefully before reading. This fic covers heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. You have been warned.

Additional Content: None

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook liked sweet things, some time ago.

He'd enjoyed ice creams with mild flavors such as vanilla, or other sweet desserts that were similar to it. He snacked often and always got a little excited when experiencing a new flavor for the first time, adventurous and never judgmental when trying out things he's never eaten before.

Jungkook also loved junk foods, like ramyeon or fast foods. He couldn't help but give in from time to time, the convenience of it all being a quick meal convincing enough to walk through the food markets back in his hometown, just to get back home with a plastic bag full of treats.

But that was before he'd met her.

He's always been quite quick to fall in love, not only with people. With a soul as trusting and eager for affection as his own, he's always been someone to love others with a fiery temper and a full heart. But that also made him an easy victim, a target almost painted on his chest it seems; because he also was once someone who trusted easily, and never saw the bad in someone.

Now? He wishes he could go back in time and warn his naïve self of what's to come.

He's punching the black bag over and over again, arms already aching- but that's just a sign that he's pushing his limits again. He knows his body inside and out, takes great care of it- or at least that's what he likes to believe. Never again will someone be able to make him feel shame about himself, never again will he feel like he did years ago.

He knows his worth.

But on his way home, he smells it again; the scent of melting sugar and baked goods, faint but familiar by now ever since the bakery had opened up a few months prior. Whatever is sold there must be good, because he can see the people lining up at the front door every morning before it opens up- and even after the morning rush, the tables inside and outside seem always filled. He wonders what's it all about- maybe just a glance this time.

He won't buy anything, he's just looking.

Someone's humming to a newly released pop-song quietly playing from the radio, inside of the shop warm lit and inviting. It looks almost more like a home than a café- but it's empty now, a much different look than what's going on during the day. "Oh?" your voice finds his ears, and he needs to take two glances left and right to find where you are, broom in hand and standing behind the counter. There's a bit of flour on your apron, and what looks like sprinkles, the frilly blouse you're wearing underneath void of any stains however. Your face shape is absolutely not as sharp and angled as what he's usually surrounded by- be it men or women- and you're visibly not as tall as the average female from what he can see.

Cute, he thinks to himself. What?

No, you're absolutely not cute. You're probably not even aware of all the calories you're selling to costumers daily- and it must be pure irony that you've opened your shop in close proximity to a gym of all places. You probably never went to one in your life, absolutely careless about your weight or health-

A lightbulb starts to flicker aggressively above his head. You laugh sheepishly.

"My boss said he'd get that fixed tomorrow. It's been like that for a few days now." you tell him for no reason. He didn't ask. "it's a little creepy to me, you know, considering I'm working alone when closing. But I can't change it myself, you know." you explain further, putting the broom to the side. Again, he doesn't know why you're telling him this. He doesn't care.

"you're closed?" he asks after a moment of staring at you awkwardly, and you shrug, making him confused.

"depends. I have some iced coffee left?" you say, opening a small fridge behind the counter. Only now does he realize that the shelves are void of any goods.

"don't wanna cause you a hassle. It's fine." he waves off at that, and you nod, smiling. He just nods back dumbly, walking out the door.

"Oh- please be careful! Goodnight!" you call out, and he turns around, hands in his jogging pants' pockets. His brows are raised, irritated.

"I'm a guy." he tells you, and you nod.

"So?" you wonder, and he scoffs a little.

"whatever." he simply mumbles to himself, before closing the door behind him.

……………………………………….｡.:✽:.｡………………………………………

Yoongi breathes heavily as he sits down on the carpeted gym floor, close to where his friend and personal trainer stands. "How's the shoulder?" Jungkook asks, mild worry in his words as he sits down close to him as well, crossing his legs.

"Better- but I think I should call it a day." He says, pushing a hand against the front of his shoulder before moving it in a circular motion. "Don't wanna overdo it." Jungkook nods at that, before another voice chimes in.

"I hope you're not overworking yourself already, Yoongi." You say, walking up to both of the men, and Jungkook himself can't help how his face shows his judgement of you. You don't fit into the scene at all, with your overknee socks and frilly skirt. You're wearing a blouse with cat-shaped buttons, entire attire showing that you visibly don't seem to care about your shape, seams of your socks already rolling down on one side from the fact that they sit so snug against your thighs, right where he can spot faint stretch marks lingering. Aren't you even the slightest bit ashamed?

Yoongi pats your head once, laughing at your words simply, before he looks into the white plastic bag you've brought. You're squatting now, Mary-janes making a slight sound as the leather bends to accommodate the way your feet are bending a little, and he tears his gaze away as soon as he notices that he can see almost under your skirt. You really have no shame, it seems. "What's that?" His older friend asks, rummaging around in the bag, while you just smile with excitement, your cheeks all round and a little blushed.

Would they look like that if you were to loose a bit of weight too? He hates how bloated he looks after eating, has kept his body-fat percentage low to make sure his face stays sharp and masculine- always remembering how much she praised his appearance if he did that. It's what's desirable, after all- so he can understand where she came from, back then.

Would she love him again if she saw him now?

"They're filled with a peach filling- but I played around a little so it's not too sweet, since I know you don't like that too much. And, you know, nowadays people are pretty scared to eat something sugary it seems." You joke, making Yoongi shrug while Jungkook feels irritated.

"Some people care about their diets." He speaks without holding back, and Yoongi looks at him a bit scandalized- but he doesn't get to scold him, because you're already talking.

"One single cream puff isn't going to ruin your body if it's once in a while." Jungkook hates how confidently you say that. And how he knows you're right, too. But he doesn't back down either, feeling threatened now.

"You don't look like one to know much about nutrition." He mumbles more or less, and Yoongi looks even more angry now- but you don't seem fazed at all, still smiling.

"Do you eat after working out?" You wonder, and he feels self-conscious now at that question. Oddly put on the spot. He doesn't like it- doesn't like you. You're not pushy, not at all, just asking, but he feels like you're interrogating him in a way he's uncomfortable with.

"No." He mumbles more or less to himself. "I have a tendency to, you know.. binge." He doesn't know why he's admitting that. You just asked a simple yes or no question, why does he feel the need to justify himself?

You're digging around in the plastic bag at that, before offering a small plastic container. "Here-" You say, friendly smile way too sugary for his tastes, like honey staining his teeth. "It's just fruit, nothing added to it. I brought them with me because I like to snack them during work, but you should definitely eat those instead." You tell him, and he looks at you with a questioning gaze.

"What will you eat during work then?" He wonders, and you shrug, an impish glint in your eyes.

"I'll hardly starve from one day without snacks. It's important to eat within the first two hours after working out- and we both know I didn't touch any of these weights here." You say giggling, and his heart stings a bit. While yes, he thinks the same, it's still tough to hear you say this so easily. He doesn't want you to think like that about yourself. He doesn't want you to feel like you need to adjust. "Alright- are you still coming Yoongs?" You wonder, and Yoongi nods, getting up and helping you stand as well. Your hand looks small in Yoongis large palms. Jungkook notices your little struggle. He himself can get up without any help.

"Yeah. We're eating at Jin's, you wanna tag along?" Yoongi asks the younger man, who instantly shakes his head.

"I need to put everything back into place again. Thanks." He simply offers, turning away from you both.

"Alright- maybe another time." You say, and he can only imagine the pitiful look you probably have put on for him. "I really wanna try his new dessert- he said he put some extra aside for me!" You giggle, voice becoming more quiet as you walk away. "Do you think I can watch him cook this time?"

"You know what Jin's like, but maybe-" Yoongi's voice becomes undistinguishable the further he walks off, and Jungkook dares to look around, seeing you smile effortless up to the older man, a little jump in your step, while the usually rather stoic producer looks at ease and genuinely friendly towards you. You both look so comfortable, so warm, and Jungkook suddenly feels like a kid left behind to stay at home alone for the first time- his inner thoughts not his own it seems as he watches you both leave the gym.

I want to come with you, too.

……………………………………….｡.:✽:.｡………………………………………

Sex isn't really anything special anymore.

He tends to be the first leaving, just like now- having barely undressed anyways, but he knows how to work around being naked while satisfying someone else. They don't care about him anyways, simply out for pleasure and no strings attached, and he's fine with that too. It makes him feel something at least, even if it's barely anything. It tastes of nothing but stale bread, feeding his desires while his soul leaves starved yet again.

The door closes behind him, and he can hear the lock set in.

Walking home, he passes your bakery- or rather a side-project of Jin's he'd been told by Yoongi last time he'd trained with him. It's closed now, but he still walks towards it, looking at the dark interior inside, barely visibly and only lit from the streetlights outside. Some red dots are blinking, indicating the security system is active inside- though Jungkook doesn't know what one might want to steal from a bakery of all places. The chairs are all upside-down on the tables, neatly placed, floor clean of any crumbs. Tomorrow, the people will wait at the entrance again, standing in line to get their breakfasts and coffees, and you'll probably stand behind the counter again with all those stains on your apron like he's seen you before.

He really doesn't know how to feel about you.

It's clear to him that your body makes him feel uncomfortable- because you're lacking any sense of consciousness about the way you look, but at the same time that can't be true considering you otherwise looked very well put together. Yoongi likes you- so why doesn't he himself feel the same?

Maybe because he's jealous.

He likes to tell himself that you're standing home alone as well, in front of the mirror and judging all those unflattering parts like he does way too often. Maybe you're just good at masking your feelings- your work having stained your very touch to the point that everything you do is just so tooth-rottingly sweet. You probably can't help it. He understands that.

Jungkook liked sweet things too, some time ago.

He walks away from the shop and back home, where nothing but the buzzing lights wait. And a cold bed, because he left the window open.

Maybe in his dreams he could fly outside?

……………………………………….｡.:✽:.｡………………………………………

"Oh, Jungkook, isn't it?" You ask, almost bumping into him in the furniture store.

"Yeah." He simply answers, a hand on your back pulling you a bit out of the way when he notices an elderly woman trying to push her shopping cart past you. Your back is warm. You're also way shorter than him. It's odd how he only notices now, it seems.

"Oh, thanks!" You say. "Uh- do you know where that spot is to get furniture you've ordered?" You ask, and he furrows his brows.

"I don't- what do you mean?" He asks, and you look up at him, clearly not uncomfortable standing close to him, because there's barely a step of space between you two. Or at least it feels like it to him. In reality, you're probably standing two steps away. At least. He puts his hands in the front pockets of his sweater- just to pull them out again. The pocket looks award when something's in it. He doesn't want to look odd.

"I ordered a small dresser a week ago, but they didn't have it here yet- so they ordered it and I could take it home later." You explain, and Jungkook nods at that, now realizing what you're talking about.

"That's up front- do you have a cart?" He wonders, and your eyes widen.

"Oh shit." You almost whisper, and a snort escapes him.

Oh god that's weird. He coughs to cover the sound up, but you're already laughing at him. He knew it. He can feel the tips of his ears turn red already-

"I'm so stupid I swear." You laugh- but it's at yourself, he realizes. "Ah, I'll get a cart then, and hunt down some employee so they can lead me there. It's no wonder they made those SCP-Horror stories about Ikeas stores." You giggle, and Jungkook can't suppress his smile this time. He can't force his lips down.

"You know about those?" He asks, he doesn't know why. He doesn't care.

"I'm on reddit and 4chan, I know more than I want to, to be honest." You say, faking a serious expression. "Someone made an experiment with his piss once-" You start, and Jungkook laughs at this, unable to be stoic about the way you so seriously say that. "I'm serious!" You laugh along, and he nods.

"No no, I believe you." He nods, using all his strength to make sure he doesn't grin, because his teeth look like a rabbits, she once told him. He doesn't want you to see it. Or maybe it's just become a habit. "Do you need help with that closet you bought?" He asks, and you giggle again. Did he say something weird?

"It's a dresser- but I guess it can classify as the same thing just smaller?" You think. "Wait when does a closet start and a dresser end- is it even size?" You begin thinking, and Jungkook apologizes instantly.

"You said dresser, I remembered that wrongly, sorry." He says, but you just playfully shake your head.

"No worries, maybe its even a closet and I just misunderstood." You tell him. "But yeah, if you could help me, that would be awesome! Gotta use those muscles for something, heh?" You joke, poking his stomach a little. He feels like you've just shot him. He doesn't know why he's so hyperaware of where you've placed your finger on his stomach, and it doesn't hurt, but in a way, it does. He doesn't know.

You're confusing him.

He trails after you like a lost dog and he's aware of it, but he can't help it. He's offered his help, it would be rude to just leave you be now, and he doesn't want to be rude to you. Even though he's been rude to you before already. Oh yeah- why do you seem so at ease with him?

You walk towards the place where he'd told you to get your furniture, and when the old man starts to place every piece in your cart, Jungkook helps without thinking. It's the same once you're at your car- he lifts it all into your trunk without thinking of the consequences it might have for him, adjusting the seats so everything can fit into the small vehicle properly. It's only when you go to bring back the cart that he realizes in horror what had happened.

The inside of his sweater feeling damp against his skin, body freezing as he can only imagine the darker stain on the back now where he knows he sweats the most. His neck feels just as cold as the wind passes him- even his hairline bothering him now. Why did he help you with that stupid furniture? He knows he sweats easily.

'Jungkook' she'd said, apologetic face when she'd spoken. 'you gotta do something about that. I don't wanna say its gross but.. well, it kinda is. No offense.'

Her voice doesn't let go of him even years after breaking up it seems. It echoes inside his head even as you're walking back towards him- and he falls into panic realizing he's gonna take public transport home. Maybe he should just walk. He didn't even get what he wanted to get anyways. "Thank you so much!" You say, grinning at him with genuine friendliness, and he just feels awkward standing like this in front of you. "Where did you park?" you wonder, and he shakes his head.

"Took the bus." He admits, and you nod.

"Oh- do you want to ride along? The least I can do is give you a lift home." You offer, but he's quick to shut it down.

"No no, it's fine, I'm all sweaty and gross now-" he rants, but much to his surprise, you simply shrug.

"Gross?" You ask, and he nods, ashamed.

"Yeah." He responds.

"Nah. Come on now, if you help be put it up too I'll put some chicken nuggets in the oven!" You giggle, getting in the car.

He doesn't know why he accepts your offer.

His smell is probably already noticeable to you in the small interior of the car. He doesn't rest his back against the seat- the fluffy covers way too clean to be touched by his sweaty back. He hates that he's like that. Maybe he should consult a doctor about this. This has to be an issue only he has. But then- your hand pushes against his front, forcing him to lean back into the seats.

You don't say anything, but you also don't need to. He just stares- because between all the horror of knowing now that you know about his insecurities and inner fights, there's a glint of relieve filling him. Because you're not annoyed. You don't seem bothered. You're still smiling a little, eyes on full alert while you keep your attention on the road in front.

While he right next to you can't help but think, how come he's never noticed how pretty your collarbones look? Not sharply protruding, or aggressively visible- but soft, delicate, and merely there to show that your bones underneath your skin are present. A simple necklace rests over them, pendant hidden in your cleavage, but the silver band alone seems enough to decorate that part of you perfectly. Your neck is a little red where you've scratched it a little earlier, itching the skin for no apparent reason- but it doesn't look out of place. It's like proof that you're alive, because looking at you now, he realizes what you remind him of.

Those old paintings of angels, with their soft bodies and rosy cheeks.

But that spot, and the slight redness on your nose is proof that you're alive. That there's blood running through your veins, that there's a heart beating and organs working inside of you. You're breathing next to him, and that alone makes him feel oddly out of place.

Because you're so at ease with just existing, it seems.

You know that he's staring, but you don't scold him either. You just smile, like always sugary sweet, when you have to stop at a red light- and he feels like he's drowning in honey.

But the strangest thing is that he's fine with that.

Because something sweet once in a while won't hurt your body, right?

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Your apartment is odd.

Its Sunday, and he's currently waiting for you to do something in the kitchen while he takes off his shoes, looking around the area of your small home. It all looks warm, chaotic but inviting- like a genuine home. You don't seem to follow any sort of decoration theme, more or less simply existing, just like always, and it's odd to him how it all still fits together. It looks like you.

Cozy.

"Alright, so-" You start, leading him into what he assumes is your bedroom, considering the bed in the corner. "-I just need help with like, holding some of the heavier boards. I'll screw, and you hold, alright?" You offer, and he nods. That's what he's here for. Why are you saying this stuff as if he's got an option here?

He doesn't even know why he's agreed to it- or even when exactly he did in the first place. All he knows is that you're actually good at following those disgustingly confusing instructions- never seeming to misunderstand where something goes, confident in the way you screw in those metal pieces, as if you've done this multiple times before. And all is fine until you have to stand awkwardly in front of him- and he becomes aware that you can probably look into the wide and short sleeves of his oversized grey shirt. You can probably see that he didn't shave, why didn't he think of that?

But you just smile at him for a second, as if to pacify his thoughts, before you turn back to your task.

He falls into his habit of judging you yet again when you sit on the carpeted floor, reading the instructions with screws in your hand while the other turns the page of the tiny booklet. The board has left a red indent in your thigh where you'd leaned into the wooden piece not too long ago, soft thighs seemingly without muscle while your arms look similar. Your wrists are small, fingers dainty like a doll- while your stomach rolls up in several little folds from the way you sit a bit hunched over, legs crossed now. The thin straps of your top lay carefully over your shoulders, and only now does he realize you're not even wearing a bra- faint outline of your nipples against the inner fabric of the top giving him the clue to come to this conclusion.

There's oddly enough no sexual thought in his mind though. Only the mere question about, how?

How can you just sit there so comfortably, not even realizing how admittedly unflattering you're showing yourself to him right now? You're not wearing makeup, your hair a little messy, and he hates the fact that you still look pretty to him. You look adorable, with the way you lick your lips before biting the upper one a bit deep in thought. Is it a habit? He wants to know, and he doesn't even know why.

"Jungkook?" You ask, waving your hand in front of his face a little. He didn't realize he's sat down on the back of his heels by now, probably staring into nothingness. The carpet has created angry red imprints on his knees. They look awfully boney compared to yours- he can't help but pull down the seams of his sweat shorts, his gaze falling onto the little heart shaped pendant hanging from your necklace. There's a paw print on it, and he wants to know why. Do you like pets? Why don't you have any? Then his eyes fall back onto your cleavage. Your breasts look just as soft as the rest of you. Are you warm? Could you warm him up if he touched you? "You can let go now, you now?" You say, and his heart stops beating for a second, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

"The board. You.. can let it go." You giggle a little, and he swallows hard, and lets go of it. There's a sweaty handprint left. Great- he's being gross again.

"Maybe I should skip dinner today." You say suddenly, and he feels ripped out of whatever thought he might've had just seconds ago.

"What?" He asks, whispers almost.

"You know, to combat all of this?" You say, sitting back and stretching out your legs or a second. "Maybe if I work out hard like you I don't look like the Michelin man when sitting down?" You laugh, but he doesn't see the joke. Where is this coming from? He doesn't like that you talk about yourself like that. "Do you think if I lost weight my face would look like those models in the TV commercials?"

"Stop it.." He says, barely above a whisper, in no way an actual threat. You just rant on.

"But then again, it's probably genetics. Imagine my body being all toned but my face still all round. I'd look hideous- all for nothing, really." You sigh. "But plastic surgery is an option. The easy way. I mean, I saved up to maybe move into a bigger apartment, but imagine how my life could change if I was pretty!" You tell him excitedly, and he hurts. "Like, actually, conventionally pretty!" You tell him. "I'd finally be loved too-"

"Stop.!" He barks out now, having reached his breaking point. He wants to apologize for yelling, but you're still smiling, sitting right in front of you. Only now does he feel your knees touching his- skin warm, warmer than his own it seems. Or maybe he's just imagining it. He can't stop staring at the differences. "Don't say that.."

"It's rough hearing someone else talk about themselves like you talk to yourself, isn't it?" You say suddenly, quietly, softly, and he feels his eyes sting. Now he really wants you to stop. "Truth is, Jungkook, that I don't care." He looks up at you. "I don't care what you look like. I don't care what I look like." You say, and he swallows thickly before attempting to get up. But you don't let him, holding his arms, even though you're no match for him.

He lets you win.

He doesn't know why.

But he lets you.

And he cries into the crook of your neck, all ugly and loud, sobbing now because who cares? He's already crying in front of you, so fuck it. It doesn't matter now, he just wants to exist just for a moment too, without thoughts and expectations and deadlines and time, and instead with your hands so gentle running over his back, your body heavy on his lap, but in no way uncomfortable. He feels as if your weight keeps him from floating away, from breaking apart and being swept away by the waves.

He calms down only after a moment- but refuses to look at you. Embarrassment is already creeping up his throat, making its home in his mind when he realizes the way he'd cried all over your naked shoulder. He's being gross again. "Who hurt you, Jungkook?" You carefully ask, and he shrugs.

"No one." He answers, voice raspy.

"Bullshit." You respond. "This doesn't happen for no reason." You say, and it's quiet for a good moment, giving him the opportunity to break apart from you- but he doesn't want to. You're warm- and he hasn't had something sweet in years.

He just wants a taste. Just once won't hurt, right?

"I was gross back then. I still am, sometimes." He admits. "Like right now."

"You're not." You reassure, but he shakes his head.

"She loved when I worked out. Said I looked like a Greek god when I was at my peak." Jungkook explains, for the first time spilling anything about it. "She wouldn't sleep with me if I slacked with my workout. But when I managed to stay on schedule, she'd love me. And I loved her."

"Jungkook.." You say, but he continues to rant.

"She really loved me then. You know. All the bad things she told me, all the times she yelled at me, I could understand it then. It was to help me, so she could love me at my best." He tries to justify, but you just squeeze his body.

He likes that feeling. He wants you to do it again.

"That's not love, Jungkook." You admit to him. "She didn't love you, Jungkookie. She loved your body, nothing else."

"I don't care." He simply responds.

"But I do." You say, and he feels his eyes sting again. "I care about you."

"You said you didn't." Jungkook fights back, leaning back a little and your hands wipe his tears from his cheek without any sense of disgust.

"I said I don't care what you look like." You remind him, and he can't help but stare. Have your eyes always been this pretty? They're like two rare gemstones polished to perfection, moving so lively and looking so warm and inviting. Even the faint redness and blemishes look more like stars now than anything else. "I care who you are. You're such a handsome being, but it's all messed up because of someone who didn't even notice what she had." You say.

"You're just saying that to boost my confidence." He responds.

"I'm saying this because you deserve to have that confidence." You instead say, and he cant help but stare for a second. "Don't kiss me now." You say, and he blushes, stammering a bit.

"I-wh.. why not?" He wonders. The moment is perfect, so why don't you want to? He's confused. It all sounded so much like you liked him- maybe even loved him.

"Because right now, you're not properly thinking." You say. "Go home. Sleep. Go about your day- don't think about it." You instruct. "For once, just exist. You've got free will Jungkook, no one cares if you work out or not, if you go get a coffee or not, or if you stay at home and laze around all day. Do what you want to, just for once, and not what you think is expected." You say.

"And if I still want to kiss you after?" He asks, and you smile.

"Then I'll be here, waiting."

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It's been weeks since you've seen Jungkook.

Yoongi says he's gone on a trip, camping, something he's not done since he was a kid. You're happy- he deserves to do what he likes, and to exist without any boundaries. "He's looked.. a lot warmer these days." Yoongi says, speaking to you who's sitting on his couch in his studio. "I have a feeling I know who's at fault."

"Hmhm, maybe." You say. "I still can't believe how much damage that bitch has done." You grumble to yourself, loosing a game on your phone, and letting it fall out of your hand onto the carpet on the floor.

"Yeah. I remember how heartbroken he was when they broke it off." He sighs, before clicking some stuff on his computer. "Did he talk to you at all these days?"

You shake your head. "Not a single message. It's fine though- he's probably busy enjoying his newfound freedom." You giggle, and Yoongi turns in his chair, looking at you.

"It's okay to be upset." He tells you, and you nod, well aware. You're not upset though- you're happy for him, genuinely so. Maybe he'll find someone who will finally cherish him for who he is, and not what he looks like. He deserves feeling happy. "Come here, angel." He suddenly says, and only now do you realize the tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

Seconds later dampening Yoongi's sweater, while he holds you close in the quietness of his studio.

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"What do you mean she doesn't work here anymore?" Jungkook wonders, standing in front of Jin who simply shrugs, defeated.

"I think Yoongi said she's now a lyricist under his label. Don't know where she went now though, sorry." He offers, before going back to wiping the counters.

Outside, Jungkook calls his friend with eager taps of his fingers- but he's not picking up. You said you'd be waiting, you told him you'd wait- so why did you leave now? You loved that bakery, you had a passion for your work, so why did you just break apart from that?

Because you've got free will.

You're way more aware of it than he is himself, having only newly discovered it, but it hurts to think that you just left like that. Sure, it's been almost half a year, but is that really too late now?

Your apartment.

He takes the bus line he's taken before, stands in front of the building, tries hard to remember which apartment number was yours, but he can't for the life of him focus anymore. He doesn't remember, he doesn't know- how could he forget a fucking number like that? Maybe you tested him, tested his love and he literally royally fucked up that test like a champ, because he took all your advice, all your efforts and all your comfort and ran off with it instead of staying. He should've stayed. He should've insisted.

He should've fought.

"Jungkook?"

His phone vibrates in his pocket before it falls out, clatters to the ground. The screen is probably broken. He doesn't care.

"I still want to kiss you." He says.

You break out in laughter.

Before pulling him down towards you.

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"That's not how you do it." Jungkook says, furrowing his brows.

"So?" You say. "Not a crime I'm committing here. Modern problems require modern so-lutions!" You struggle with the chopsticks, before the cork of the wine bottle finally plops out. "Hah! You see that? I'm a survival specialist, Bear Grylls has nothing on me!" You triumph, before pouring some in his glass, then your own.

"So you plan to survive a let's say, zombie apocalypse, with wine?" He raises an eyebrow, the warm fire between the two of you crackling away and painting your body in red hues.

"Hey, being drunk makes a lot of situations better." You offer, and he laughs- freely, corners of his eyes crinkling a little, bunny smile on full display. You like him most like that. Free.

Happy.

"Hm, I disagree." He says.

"Oh?" You challenge.

"Hmhm." He tells you, taking a sip of his wine after you. "For example, my first time with you shouldn't be wasted with alcohol." He cheekily says, and you blush- happy the fire covers that change in color for you. "I wanna remember it." He teases. He's become awfully bold- entire being evolving into something you can only describe as dangerous.

"Ah.." You just respond.

"Too much?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"No- just.." You say, unable to quite put it into words. "It's weird hearing someone say that, you know, to me." You say.

"Why?" He wants to know. Are you a virgin? He highly doubts that- considering you're pretty soul and pretty smile. There's no way he's the first to ever be interested in you like that.

"I don't know, it just.. happens, I guess. I'm good at giving advice left and right, but I'm bad at following that myself. I.." You admit, sighing as you look at the fire. "..tend to let myself be used, I guess."

"Why?" He asks again, but this time its whispered, like he himself can't believe what you're telling him.

"Because it lets me dream a little?" You giggle. "It's why I didn't kiss you, you know, right away. I know where it would've lead."

"And you don't want that with me?" He wonders, but you shake your head no.

"I do." You say. "I did back then too." You confess without shame. "But.. I liked you too much. It would've crushed me to wake up and realize it's been nothing but a short fever dream. I would've hated myself if you woke up and.. I don't know, realized that you don't like me like that after all, and that emotions were just hot and high."

Jungkook nods at that- because he can't say that it wouldn't have happened like that. You looked out for him that night as well, maybe without knowing it- and he's thankful you did. Because it gave him time, freedom, and the chance to really let everything sink in and flow through.

It made him realize that he still loves you, even if you hadn't been the one to wake him up like you did.

"Now I ruined the mood." You laugh, throwing your head back a bit in dramatic agony. "Ugh I'll never get anywhere like this."

Wordlessly, Jungkook puts his glass down on the plastic table, before he walks over to you and takes yours as well, helping you stand up. "Jungkook?" You wonder, and he just kisses you, soft and warm like he always does. It's silent, there's no need for words, especially not when he picks you up and opens the door of the campervan, bringing you inside where he immediately tries to shed your thick jacket and sweater.

"You're so pretty." He chants out, hands running over your warmed up skin like he has to convince himself that you're real. And he does, in a way- because it all feels absolutely surreal to him in every way.

He doesn't think about his own appearance at all. He doesn't care.

He doesn't mind when you pull his own sweater over his head, hood of it catching on his jaw and making you both laugh. Your hands on his skin feel like heaven, he's never realized how he'd burn the world down just to feel your skin against his own. You're holding onto him like he's worth millions, his lips chasing yours, teasing you every now and then by not letting you get as close as you'd like to.

Sex has never been so exciting and comfortable at the same time for him.

Every sound you make, every heavy breath or whine he drinks up like a starving man, hands gripping your flesh like you'll disappear if he doesn't hold onto you strong enough. There's trust in this- trust you'll tell him where to go if he looses his way, trust that you'll accept what he does for what it is, trust that you'll love him just as much as he loves you.

Your thighs are soft, laying over his shoulder as he holds onto them, his mouth busy on your core.

You're both cute and absolutely enchanting, writhing and squirming under his actions, whimpers accompanying his own obscene noises he doesn't care about making. You're divine, you deserve to be treated like it as well.

And you cum so prettily too, toes curled and hands reaching out for his own.

"I love you." He says, and you smile up at him, kissing his lips before you turn his chin towards the side.

"And I love you too, but maybe no kids yet?" You joke, making him laugh and nod as he walks over to fetch a condom out of his bag. He didn't specifically plan anything to happen on the trip with you- but he still prepared in hopes of it. "Jungkookie.." You say, when he's back above you, wrapping the contraceptive over his length.

"Hm?" He wonders, looking at you wide wide eyes, in all his naked glory and inked up skin.

"I love you." You say, and he grins, brightly even though he's barely illuminated by the little campfire outside.

"I love you too." He responds, adjusting your positions to push himself inside. "Everything about you." He adds on, before he moves, slowly, agonizingly slow, frustrating you. But he seems to enjoy that struggle, rather than feel like he needs to adjust anything. "We've got time." He chuckles, and you wrap your legs around his middle at that.

"Please..!" You beg, and he only cocks his head to the side at that, hair falling into his face a little. "Kook, please, come on-"

"Impatient now?" He wonders, and you huff.

"Obviously!" You call out, making him laugh again before he pushes your thighs towards you, adjusting his pace to a more brutal thrusting.

Your head spins.

"You look so fucking pretty like that." He praises, hands on your skin digging into your flesh, probably leaving imprints later on.

Good.

"Gotta mark you up all pretty too, right?" He grunts into your neck, kissing first, before he bites, sucks, claims almost. "Gotta make sure they know you're mine." He says breathlessly.

"Yours." You respond out of breath yourself, before you clench around him, orgasm hitting you hard at his ruthless pace. He himself can't help the obscene moan that escapes him as well, coming undone only a short time after you.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Make sure they know you're mine?" You joke, out of breath. "Where did that come from?"

"My heart." He says, making you slap his chest. "Ow!"

"You're so cheesy!"

"You love me for it."

Yes.

Yes you do.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Any time I see someone worshipping Ingrid Visser I remember the time her organisation, under her advice, kept an orca calf on a mattress in a horse trailer overnight because they wanted to “rehabilitate” him/put him in a makeshift sea pen to treat like a pool toy until he died.

I remember when videos showed up of newly named Toa vocalising (usually a sign of stress) and her cooing and making nonsense noises at him. And the comments were like “she’s talking to him!!!”

Ingrid also insisted of making Toa interact with people despite him being a very sick baby orca who was slowly dying.

This was later confirmed by people who were there:

I remember when untrained volunteers were crowding this stressed sick orca calf, bragging about swimming with him and bonding with him and ignoring advice to stop habituating him.

They had young kids in with him that didn’t know better and were told by Ingrid to interact with him like this. They were also laughing about how he “snored.” (Cetaceans don’t snore - anything that sounds like snoring is respiratory distress).

(Funny how waterwork is only okay when they do it with the stressed and dying orca calf but not in SeaWorld.)

The pathetic attempt to rehabilitate this dying calf by treating him like a pet, putting him in a tub of freshwater that quickly became toxic with ammonia. Signing off feeds with belly rubs and formulas changed behind the backs of the actual experts from Wellington Zoo and the experts consulted overseas who actually have successfully rehabbed calves.

How Whale Rescue (Ingrid’s organisation) lied again and again about Toa’s health and chances to be rehabilitated and released. How they misrepresented information about habituation when rehabbing whales and how Ingrid wanted to “train” Toa, despite plans to release him. How they demonised SeaWorld and claimed they weren’t involved despite records showing that SeaWorld and Loro Parque vets had provided their formula recipes and calf rearing protocols.

None of this is true - Ingrid has never rehabilitated any whale from a marine park. All the information she was getting was from DOC and the advisory group team

I could go on but I hit my image limit.

Basically: Ingrid’s “expertise” misled the New Zealand public, bullying out the actual experts so she could play orca trainer with her new pet.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The sheriff drives down the dusty backroad behind the Percy farm. You lean against the door, trying to keep as much space between you and him as you can. You're only thankful he hadn't made you ride in the back like a real criminal.

You know he's up to something. He's trying to teach you a lesson, but why? He could go bother Greta or any of the other girls down at The Horn. You give yourself a look in the side mirror and huff through your nose.

"Whatcha bein' so puffy about?" He reaches over and slaps your thigh, kneading it roughly.

You pull your leg away from him, crossing it over the other as you clutch the seatbelt, "is that illegal too?"

He chuckles and lets off the gas, slowly rolling through the gravel.

"You're sure mouthy, huh?"

"It's just a question--"

"You actin' so innocent but you can't control that tongue of yours," he tuts.

You sniff, "aren't we going to the station?"

"You're many things, darlin', but you're not dumb, are ya?" He asks as he brushes his fingertips down your arm. "I don't mind dropping charges... you just gotta loosen up."

You stiffen and clamp your lips tight. You knew he was a creep but does he have to be so obtuse? There's lots of girls dying to ride with the sheriff. You're just not one of them.

"Why don't you call Greta--"

"This ain't about her," he grabs your arm, trying to pull you towards him as the wheel veers.

"Sheriff," you cry out and he slams on the brakes.

"See the trouble you're causin'," he chides, "you're gonna get us both hurt."

"I'm not doing anything. I didn't do anything," you bluster, heat radiating across your cheeks, "please, just... why are you doing this?"

"I don't know why you're actin' coy," he sneers as he shifts into park and unclicks his seat belt, "I just want a taste. I saw the way you were eyein' me up. You don't gotta worry about that ditz, Greta, it's me and you, girl."

"Ew, stop--" You bat at his hand as he grips your arm tighter.

"Ew?!" He echoes, "now, you ain't gotta be nasty."

"I'm not... I just... don't know why you're doing this," you try to wriggle free, "sheriff, I really am not into you--"

"Ah, you don't know what you missin' out on, is the problem. She told me you never been with a man,"

"I did it, okay? I stole the gummy bears. Just take me to the station," you plead as he yanks on your arm, "I'll confess--"

"I don't care about the damn candy bears," he snarls and pushes you back against the seat, "just a little fun, huh?"

Before you can react, he bends over and dives head-first into your lap. You cry out as you grab at his head, trying to push him off as your other hand claws at the door. You catch the handle and the door swings out but you're trapped by the seat belt.

"Christ!" You holler as you bring your elbow down on the back of his head.

He grunts and you feel around, jamming your thumb down on the button, releasing the belt.You fall sideways out of the car and throw your hands up to catch yourself. You drag yourself onto the ground, kicking behind you in a panic as you feel Bodecker reaching for you. You don't have time to think about the siren wailing in your head; what the hell is wrong with him?

You roll onto your stomach and get your knees under you. You scrabble across the dirt as you fight to get your feet set. Before you can stand, you're bowled over. You cry out as the heavy metal cracks off the back of your head.

You fall into the ditch next to the road, tumbling down as the flashlight bounces beside you. You look up as the panting sheriff stands above you at the crest of the earth. You reach to hold your skull as he puffs out his stomach.

"That's assault on an officer, girly," he growls, "lot worse than a slap on the wrist for that."

He steps forward and stops as gravel crunches. You blink dizzily and babble. Tires cruise forward and stop on the other side of the road. You can't see anything as you struggle to push yourself up.

"Everything okay, Sheriff?" A voice calls out.

"All good," Bodecker turns, resting his hand on his gun. You freeze. "Just stretching my legs."

"Alright, well then, have a good one," the man calls out. You think it might be Cole from down the way but you can't know for sure.

The sheriff waits until the driver leaves before he turns back. You gulp and jump up, spinning to climb out the other side of the ditch. He hops across as you haul yourself up. He kicks you back down and you yelp as his foot knocks the air out of you.

"Now, we ain't gonna be doin' all that," he tramps down the incline and grabs you by the hair. "I see how you like it. Rough."

You groan and grab his wrist, whining as he tears on your roots, "please--"

"Oh, don't you worry, you'll be begging real good," he turns you over to your stomach and straddles you, dropping your head as you writhe. He bends your arms back and cuffs them tight, the metal pinching your skin. "Ya know, you can just ask ya friend, I can be nice..." he grits, "just too bad you can't.”

[oh-saints]

You could write something like friends with benefits with Ruben Dias but he really falls in love w reader 😬 ? you can decide the rest just make it angst

you really can blame back to december (taylor's version) for this. who's ready?

saudade

(portugese) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent; desiderium.

it was a word rúben only learnt in front of his oldest flame. his favourite flame. however, between the two of them, did time heal everything?

rúben dias x doctor!reader word count: 4.5k prompts: above + summer fling + @julianalvarez9's post here (sorry, girlie, gotta twist your idea a bit) tw: explicit foreplay but suggestive smut 👀 note: y'all can blame ms. swift's newly released album, okay? well, aside from the depressive mood lately and recent work stress, the particular song kickstarted me to write my arse off like i just broke up with my ex (when it's an old news already lol). but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so not beta-read yet. song: back to december + all too well

“oh, there she is!”

oh for the love of god, you know you were late, okay? when you hadn’t stopped running back and forth for two consecutive days straight to save everyone and their mother’s lives, it was pretty understandable to take the chance of hibernating the first thing you had a day off, right?

“after an eon of disappearing,” the groom—your favourite cousin but god did he love basking attention—raised his glass towards you, and you could only smile his way through the gritted teeth. “I’m glad you decide to grace us with you presence, Your Majesty.”

but of course your family wouldn’t understand that, for they lived a totally different lifestyle to yours, despite begging you to enrol yourself to the most prestigious medical school. ironic now that they were the ones who always begged you to come home when you felt like you’ve moved to your home the moment you got accepted to the most reputable cardiology and cardiothoracic department in the country.

so you smiled wider—for the appearance, of course—but you said nothing back.

you were still regulating your breaths, palpable by your huffs and puffs as you took the empty seat—god if the bridezilla got mad because you took the wrong seat, you’d fight her because it was already a sacrifice on your end to drag your ass to this weekend full of wedding festivities—and before you could do anything else, a glass of water was shoved your way gently.

“you look like you need one.”

you were not surprised by the voice. he sounded like he looked like—rough, buff, strong, bulk. you were rather surprised at the small smile thrown your way when he handed you the crystal, filled with clear liquid.

oh, the choice of drink, too, by the way. in a weekend that would soon be filled with endless flow of champagne and other alcoholic and questionable options, he chose still water.

realising you were still eyeing the glass in his hand, his demeanour changed slightly. “not a fan of water?”

“I thought you’re kind of a beer guy.”

your response sent him into a laughing fit because honestly, rúben was expecting you to throw a flirty banter. with an evening gown that rocked a thigh slit as high as the bride’s ego, you looked more ready to have some fun from the get-go.

but the sound of that deep, masculine laugh did wonders to you. heat immediately run through your entire body, and you immediately knew you liked it more than you thought you should because you kept wanting more. more of his laugh, more of his voice, more of his smiles, more of his scent. more of him.

“it’s too early for that, no?”

with the way he lifted his eyebrows teasingly, you almost questioned your decision to become a doctor. you’d definitely been missing out this special specimen beside you, due to burying yourself in between your patients’ body—literally, in order to save their lives. you really need to go out more often.

or maybe, you need to step up the game while you can before hospital took your fair share of fun as soon as you landed back home. shivers ran down the underside of your arms at the last thought.

fuck it, then. if there was one thing hospital taught you the hard way, it was to might as well enjoy things while it lasted.

you grabbed the glass of water from his hands—his skin felt exactly like it seemed—before signalling for two flutes of champagne. the server went to grab your request as you shoo away your thirst with the water and then proceeded to down the champagne when the server was back in the vicinity, all while never straying your eyes from his. “in Italy, nothing’s too early, no?”

and that was another laugh you’d come to like. god, if coffee did no longer work on your bloodstream, someone should get her that as her daily fix of adrenaline dose before her night shift started.

the man in front of you took his portion of champagne and said his thanks, his eyes held yours like there was no tomorrow. despite the roughness in his facial features, stubbles and all, his smile was warm. and for you, the whole combination was what made your knees weak.

how could someone look so sexy and smug in all his friendliness?

“it’s rúben, by the way.”

with the small smirk slowly tugging the corner of his lips as he sipped the champagne, rúben should really consider himself lucky you didn’t jump on him and replaced the crystal flute under his lips instead.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

despite your initial dislike towards the bride—purely because you thought she had a severe princess disease—you tried so hard not to rain in her parade. no matter what, it was still her special day, probably one she’d been dreaming since she was a toddler.

also, have you mentioned that the groom was one of your favourite person on earth?

so you didn’t even dare to move anywhere outside the safe sanctuary of your table because you knew you’d be bombarded by the elders for how rarely you showed your face again in family functions like these, or for how you could not even show up with a boyfriend in tow. amongst the lineage, you were the only one left without a lover or some sort, but instead of draining your energy to explain how exhausting it was to live so that other people can live too, you stayed put.

that, and the fact that rúben provided 1001 reasons why you should stay behind with him. yes, sexiness aside, you found yourself able to converse so many things outside the medical jargons and it kind of made you miss it—the ordinary life everyone else was leading. you missed talking about the latest blockbuster movie, you even missed wearing something else than the hospital scrub and your favourite crocs for more than 10 hours straight.

you even missed the flirting phase, thanks to rúben’s impeccable ability to chime in some subtle but straightforward seduction. rúben himself already exuded some hotness, his laugh and words managed to shoot some warmth throughout your body, and the champagne tripled the heat all over you.

rúben was only downing another glass of negroni and you were only watching the liquid move from his mouth to his throat, but you needed to excuse yourself. your brain was no longer cooperating with every other organ intact to your body—you couldn’t shouldn’t think all of these forbidden thoughts inside of your mind because rúben had been nothing but a gentleman, yet you were the one who kept wanting to cross the line.

yes, rúben might’ve dropped some not-so discreet touches down your arms, on top of your knees, under your knees. yes, he twirled with your unkempt hair, tucked them behind your ears. but the groom used to do that all the time with you, just to tease you around, so what made this time different?

“I thought you hit the jackpot or something.”

and there was rúben again, his voice matched the concern written all over his face. even in times like this, when her inside was a mess all over, rúben managed to think of her well-being. damn it, he really made it so hard for you to contain the burning desire.

there, she said it. desire—a word so foreign in her dictionary recently, for she’d momentarily lost her want to study the human anatomy since the moment she walked into this party late.

“what, you’d run away or something if I did?”

despite you hyperventilating earlier, as you ran towards a balcony of this huge Italian castle looking for air, you were sure rúben couldn’t see a trace of it anymore. you were already sporting the provocating look you’d come to realise only come into the surface when stirred right—aka only rúben managed to do so by far.

and only rúben could take the outmost pride in enticing such vixen from her hiding place. you wouldn’t have braved the face to sport such dangerous dress if you didn’t have the energy in you, and he was more than glad you ended up taking your seat beside his, despite knowing you were supposed to be seated somewhere else later into the night, for he could satisfy himself with the sly and slightly naughty look you only threw his way whenever he wanted.

he’d be the worst liar on this planet if he said he wasn’t tempted to kill distance between your lips and his, so many times tonight. but his father taught him courtesy, and to do such radical act in a room full of other people’s guests would be an insolence and disrespect to the bride and groom.

but now that the matter of prying eyes was gone…

“I’d brush your teeth, of course,” a small gasp from you didn’t escape his ears. “what do you take me for?”

you smiled but you were shaking your head disapprovingly as you folded your arms in front of you. “when are you going to stop being a gentleman, rúben?”

“why should I?” the man stepped closer to you, and you wished he was still wearing the dark blue vest because you certainly couldn’t handle those specs ghosting behind the white shirt. “do you want me to be a bad guy?”

but you couldn’t also deny you’d want to see those chiselled chest. combined with that smirk and fascinating kind of mirth dancing in his eyes, would you be dead and sent to heaven? “can you?”

you were both now so close, rúben only needed to lift your chin towards his face to claim your lips. “oh, is that a challenge?”

he could easily did, by the way, with the way your lips were gaping as soon as he gripped his chin gently. but he decided to tease you more, as his nose reached down to touch yours while his body pushed you to the railing, giving him the excuse to catch your body in his arms.

your brain was now completely unwired, your limb was moving the way rúben orchestrated yourself like a maestro to his favourite instrument. all you remembered was to hold on to the back of rúben’s neck and the side of his strong arm, as he gathered you in his sturdy embrace, and chanting don’t fall, don’t fall to your now-airhead.

when he finally tipped your chin to his desired angle and your lips caressed one another, your breath turned shaky and it gave him an immense sense of pride. he’d been wanting to have this, dropping hints here and there so you’d let yourself free of expressing your inner self, because he knew you wanted the same thing too.

“what do you want?”

if anyone went wet at his usual voice, wait until you heard this version of rúben.

you could already feel yourself turning into a weak excuse of a puddle. your brain was melting, your inside was evaporating.

“tell me what do you want, baby, and I’ll give ‘em to you.”

it wasn’t that you were shy to voice them, but it was because you couldn’t find the words. funny how you could read endless words and medical jargons and yet, gone was everything inside and outside of yourself, including your so-called dignity you were often praised for when you were doing your rounds, when he dropped the word baby to call you with.

so you raised yourself on your tiptoes and pushed yourself towards him.

“uh, oh,” damn it, you forgot he was a footballer. he was paid to use his reflexes on weekly basis. avoiding your advances were nothing against his job. “words, baby.”

“you,” you managed to breathe out the simplest word you could find in the currently short-circuited brain of yours, but the very word seemed to please the man, whose smirk went wider oh-so sexily. “want you, rúben.”

if it wasn’t for the fireworks going off at the background five minutes later, rúben would’ve succeeded in making you fall apart in record time. but rúben didn’t know the word give up so while he kept to himself for the remaining of the night, he’d come looking after you as soon as the party ended and everyone went back to their respective suites.

you, too, certainly didn’t see this coming. but when rúben immediately kissed you senselessly as soon as you opened the door—well, as soon as he pushed you inside and opened your pathetic excuse of bathrobe, that is—you weren’t complaining. you even helped him shed the rest of your fabrics before unbuttoning all of his, all without separating yourself from him, because the last time you did, you never got the chance to chase your high.

“but, rúben, tomorrow’s the wedding!” you squealed as he lifted your body, your legs immediately locked your position against the large man, as he walked you both to your bed. “we’re so gonna be late, rúben.”

he was peppering your neck with kisses as he placed you down the mattress, rousing giggles from your end. “that will give them a story to tell, no?”

“you’re crazy—oh, oh,” the crispiness of your laughter was interrupted by the sensation of rúben’s tongue devilishly sucking your sensitive spot. “oh, fuck! fuck, rúben, fuck!”

if his tongue wasn’t twirling the bruising skin so well to soothe the pain, you’d smack the smile you felt against your skin. “well, they say that what happens in Italy, stays in Italy.”

“I think you’re mistaken for what happens in las vegas, stays in las vegas—oh, fuck, rúben…! don’t fucking stop.”

“is that so?” oh, how dare he stop?! you sat up when rúben halted the wet ministrations of his tongue against your breasts, about to protest the footballer, when he pinched your budding nipples. your head immediately fell back to the pillow, surrendering yourself instead. “can’t seem to remember. you keep distracting me, meu anjo.”

the sensation of his warm saliva against the coldness of his fingers’ pads were unlike no other that you mewled out the loudest moan you’d ever done. so disgusting you had to bring down his lips towards you to shut yourself up. “should we go to las vegas instead?”

“tonight?” rúben popped a now-hardened nipple of yours, and the sight was definitely something you could not erase from your memory. “I can call my plane.”

“don’t tempt me, rúben, because we know this weekend is going to be boring from the looks of it.”

“let’s bring las vegas to us, then.”

long story short, rúben brought you las vegas and its glory every chance he got during the weekend.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“must we go back to reality tomorrow?”

the giant central back chuckled at your submission. you were tucked under his arms, your fingers were drawing air on his chest, and somehow he knew you were pouting as you did so. it never ceased his wonder how you could be a temptress for a minute, then turned into a cutie-patootie—your words, not his—the next second.

it never ceased his wonder too as to how you’d always spurt out the same question all over again, every weekend you both got the chance to escape reality, despite knowing the definite answer of yes, we all have a life to lead tomorrow from him.

many of your colleagues had inquired about your relationship with the familiar face they’d seen over the weekend on their TV screens, but you didn’t know what to answer them. you were texting and flirting all the time but you were certainly wasn’t dating. you had sex, and you happened to repeat them whenever things got tough for either of you.

it was starting to become a vicious cycle, you and him. it was an impending doom, escaping the harsh reality only to seek for harsh and explosive sex instead of facing them head first.

he should’ve said no to every of your calls, but you crying over another life you failed to save wasn’t something in his card to ignore.

you should’ve said no to every of his calls, purely because you knew you were another rebound or another anger fuck from the losing game, but you didn’t have the energy in you to think of any reason to say no, not when you’ve racked your brain to save the failing life of your patients.

you both became a constant fixture, the only thing guaranteed good, when all else failed in your respective lives.

including the romantic aspect of your life.

but how could it not fail when rúben always picked up your calls when you had a bad day—that bad that you didn’t have the energy to have sex with him? he’d listened to you crying before stopping yourself, he’d listened to the silent you gave him because you were processing things. he’d listened to them all before offering to pick you up from work, no matter how stupid it looked like for him to slide in his vehicle at 5 in the morning when he had to be back at the training centre at 9 sharp.

when he couldn’t be around when you were having a mental breakdance, rúben would send you and your team a mini buffet for your lunch so you could share happiness the same way you shared him your devastation. so you could be back on your feet in no time because time is of essence for your job, your patients need you to be strong and healthy so they too could do and feel the same.

rúben—bless him—even spared his time to visit your patients when december came around the corner. he’d cheered them up, like the way he always did around you and for you, and even gave the kids and their caretakers gifts so they didn’t feel bored spending the festive holiday at the hospital. the next week, he brought over his entire football team just because one of the elder patients said he was a fan of his team.

he did all that, like a true gentleman you’d met the first time at your cousin’s Italian wedding, only to drop you the biggest nuclear bomb right on top of your head, right on christmas eve.

it was a dinner hosted by one of his teammates. he’d asked you to come because he knew you didn’t prepare for any last minute plan when your surgery schedule fell through—the patient died before you could save her—and thought the merry atmosphere would turn your sour mood to a better one.

you, from the beginning, didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like intruding. and maybe, you shouldn’t have come.

the host, rúben’s captain, asked what kind of relationship you both were having, just as you were about to call for the men to join the women in the kitchen because the food were all ready to be served by now. but you never joined either side because of rúben’s answer.

“I’m getting married,” you remembered vividly. “she was nothing but a good fuck.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

but that was—what, five years ago?

you’d moved on with life, and that included moving far away from home to london. you obtained your specialist degree and was now under the tutelage of the best cardiovascular professor in town. you were often credited as prof. nagelsmann’s golden child because of how much the professor adored you, for your vast knowledge and eagerness to learn, as well as your hardworking attitude.

if people knew that you were studying till you broke your neck and had constant nosebleed till exhaustion took over your body at first only to put your mind somewhere else…

well, they didn’t need to know that. people only needed to know that you lived and breathed for the hospital now, because you’d now come to terms that life and death was two of the things that you were sure of to happen. nothing else were as definite as those two.

well, maybe also the jinx when you stashed away your hospital scrub for ordinary clothing as you clocked out of your shift.

as soon as your junior called your name, just five steps beyond the hospital territory, not even your car in sight yet, you knew you had to go back inside and save your kdrama marathon for another time. “code blue?”

your junior nodded and immediately jumped to describe the dire emergency. you were also handed the patient’s medical record. “male, 35 years old with CoA[1]. his stent’s infected so we have to do replacement but his CT scan shows hemothorax[2] and raptured aorta as well.”

your legs wanted to give away when your eyes spotted the name.

it’s ivan dias.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben couldn’t believe his eyes.

there you were, explaining the whole procedure his brother would be going through. clad in your hospital scrub with no make-up, you were still as beautiful as he’d remembered. not even signs of time grazing your skin, as if the cold temperature of the operating theatre froze away the concept of time from your face.

your natural look was what initially drew him into you. in a room full of people caking their faces in the latest make-up trend, you definitely stood out in his eyes. you even outshone everyone else, including the bride, if he was being honest. and when he found out you were more than a pretty face, it didn’t take him another minute to settle his decision to make you stay behind in the table with him, so no one else could take you far away from him.

possessive, people would say to him. a trait he thought he’d hated in everyone else, but a trait that turned out to be something that showed up only whenever you were concerned.

but god, did rúben want you. so bad he felt like he could kill anyone else who casted you a seductive glance, despite you not acknowledging them.

and it made him hate himself because he was turning to be everyone else he’d come to hate. he didn’t want to be selfish, he didn’t want to push everyone else for what he solely wanted. he didn’t want you all for himself—he shouldn’t want you all for himself.

you both were only friends after all.

at least, that was rúben used to think of. because who the hell listened to another person crying for hours, if not for friends? who the hell picked up another person at 5 in the morning, if not for friends? who the hell reminded another person to eat so they could take care of their patients, if not for friends?

so he did everything he could, including dating around till he painted the town as red as the possessiveness he wished to hide, in hope he could diminish this niggling feeling that was bothering him day and night. he sought help and read endless books, just so he could validate the peculiar emotions he was feeling, that only vanished when you were around.

but nothing satisfied him. nothing was the answer to his long-standing question. even when he decided to jump the big gun and got married with someone else that didn’t even understand a simple arithmetic question, rúben still felt the gnawing hole inside of him, that was still thirsty of something he didn’t know of.

the hole grew into a big, black, gaping hole as his marriage went on. the hole even swallowed the existence and the idea of the two of them, the couple that could perfectly plaster the covers of bridal vogue, into a mere memory, burned to ashes and blown to the sky.

even then, too, rúben only wanted to see you. because being around you always brought strange waves of calmness to him.

so he did, only to find you go off the grid for good. he’d asked for you to everyone he knew and everyone he thought could possibly knew of your existence, to no avail. he’d thought of going to your home and asked to your parents but he decided to go against it because he respected you and your decision—he always does from the first moment he met you.

he remembered he didn’t even want to touch you until you succumbed yourself entirely to his palm, and he promised you he’d do that and he intended to keep his end of words, be it when you were around or not. he could only pray to God to meet you again in due time and course, when you were ready to see him again.

but now… god, did he want to scream out loud in happiness. you were still as gentle as ever, having handled fragile lives in your hands of both the parents and the guardians. your voice still reminded him of an umbrella under a blazing hot day, as you elaborated ivan’s condition to his parents. your hands still reminded him of a silk handkerchief tucked properly under one’s suit, as you touched his parents in reassurance.

only then did he realise that this sharp feeling inside of him, only you could provoke such intense emotions like a dagger stab to his heart, was longing.

he’d longed to have you in his arms again, despite having you there all his previous times with you. he’d longed to have you around him again, despite being around you. no distance was still a distance per his standard. and he realised he’d made the biggest mistake by not proclaiming you when he had the chance.

fuck possessiveness, he wanted you back.

after all these years, he still wanted you so bad.

“I knew you’d succeed,” rúben sat down with two cans of your choice of beer. “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you. congratulations, by the way.”

“thank you,” while you flashed him a smile, you smiled rather awkwardly and scooted further away from him. like you were scared of him. like a child was scared of what a stranger had in their hands. “i—”

he didn’t like that you were getting further away from his reach. he couldn’t launch his old moves on you again if you did. “I hope you still like Budweiser.”

“I do, but I’m sorry, do I know you?”

but it seemed like he’d lost you now, the way he’d lost you years ago.

[1] coarctation of aorta; a birth defect in the aorta, where it is far narrower than normal, blocking the blood flow to the body. on severe cases, it is so narrow that it can back up the blood flow to the left ventricle, forcing the muscle there to work twice as hard in order to distribute blood the way it’s supposed to be.

[2] hemothorax; a presence of blood is detected between the chest wall and the lungs. commonly, may be caused by blunt trauma or by complication of a disease.

[pralinesims]

// Character asks

Tagged by @changingplumbob, thanks so much <3

Which OC is the first at a movie theater opening night for a movie they've been excited for?

LMAO this question cracked me up when I first read it bc it immediately made me think of my cinema storyline, truth is out of that particular bunch, besides that specific setting without any obligations, I can only see Luca wanting to show up immediately at an opening night? He's a huge movie buff and always waits for new releases. Emilio wouldn't immediately need to see a movie, same with Aaron. Though it does depend per case. And for Vale, especially not. He usually rather waits for it to arrive on streaming services than to be cramped in a stuffy cinema, even if he does enjoy the movie theater soundscape. Outside of the cinema squad, I can see Gina and Devyn being really excited for new movie releases and wanting to see them as soon as possible.

Which OC is the pickiest?

Definitely Vale, he is REALLY picky with most food and usually not up for new adventures, with exception when it comes to beverages, but yeah. He simply does not eat most fruit for example, and generally if possible, sticks to his safe foods. Besides him, Kaia is kinda picky aswell, not with her palate, but rather textures. She needs her meals buttery soft and/or smushed.

Which OC is the most stubborn?

Aaron, I'd say. A lot of them are quite a stubborn bunch, but he definitely takes the crown. He does NOT budge on like, anything ever, if he's decided something has to be in a specific way, do not attempt to sway his opinions or change him. I'd also consider Emilio and Sharon the next contenders when it comes to stubbornness. If you'd put these 3 in a room and let them try to sort out an argument, you'd see the scenario of all of them wanting to have the upper hand and win lol.

Which OC looks like a pushover, but could actually kick someone's butt?

Baby Maggie! She is surprisingly strong for being so tiny. Amazing at lifting weights, too. Amazing at crushing things. Usually accidentally, but she can build up quite some power.

Which OC is most likely to excitedly talk about hobbies?

Absolutely Gina. A lot of things interest her, and she loves to share what makes her adore the things she does. If she's played a new game she's become hyperfixated on? Must tell her friends. Read a newly discovered manga that's considered niche? Must tell everyone so they know just how damn good and underrated it is. Drawn one of her friends? Mail that piece of artwork to them. In addition to Gina, Maggie and Emilio are probably the chattiest about their hobbies. Also while not on their level, you can easily lure Kaia out of her woodworks if you want her to read a birth chart, or simply talk about the beauty of some constellations.

I'm sooo behind tags and dunno who's done which ones, so I'm tagging everyone who's in mood to do this and also blabber some more about their OC's <3

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎFairytales (Part Three)꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: fluff, angst, forced marriage, slight violence pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: last part of fairytales :) author’s note: I hope you enjoy! I spent awhile on this one <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

One can never catch freedom if they chase it.

You wished your story had begun with 'Once Upon a Time' so there was guarantee of an ending wrapped up in a pretty bow. Oh, the ideal. You and your knight riding away into the sunset, newly married with the brightest of futures waving from the horizon like a rosy sunset.

As of now, that ending was no more than a daydream.

Three princes had arrived from kingdoms not too far, vying for both your affections and your hand. You hardly took it seriously. After all, this was but one of many instances where men with more royal blood than brains attempted to charm you over dinner.

The king's displeasure with you was tense for the entire event, and you did your best to ignore the storm brewing in Nicholas. You imagined that it was Billy sitting across from you instead of a prince, telling you about his day or teaching you about the stars.

He hadn't written since the night in the woods, where you'd felt like you came alive for the very first time. Never before had you been able to just be with him until then. Before there had always been a look over the shoulder, reminders to speak in hushed tones. That night though, released from your title and your jailer, you breathed easy.

It was the complete opposite of how you felt in the present moment, laced into a dress that was pushing your breasts up to your neck and making your waist collapse in on itself while you tried and failed to pay attention to what your unwanted suitors were saying.

As you feigned interest, your hand came up to the silver heart charm on your collarbone, tracing the little embedded design. You'd sent letters, of course, and the doves had come back empty handed, so you knew they were getting to him. But he hadn't sent so much as a single word back. Was he safe? You thought over the content of your writings, trying to imagine if something had made him upset. But all you could recall were the usual things you talked about (dreams, hopes, wishes, how much you loved him).

The night concluded with little fanfare, and you bid each suitor good night at the king's side. When the doors shut, you curtsied and made to go off to bed in the hopes that Billy's dove would be waiting for you, but the king held out a hand before you could escape.

"The princes," he started, eyeing you warily. "What did you make of them?"

It was clear as water what he was asking. Lifting your chin, you said in demure tones, "I am unsure of any decision at this time, Your Majesty."

Nicholas huffed through his nose, then seemed to lighten, eyes trailing up and down your figure. "You are aware of the alternative if you fail to choose a suitor." He seemed slightly pleased about the situation, and your body tensed, hand going up to play with your necklace once again. "With your history, perhaps it would be best to move forward with that."

In that moment, any hopes of this being a game shattered. The lust in his eyes conveyed something that made you want to tear at your eyes and crawl out of your skin. If you didn't know any better, you would say he had purposefully sent for men he'd known you would disdain, to make his desired outcome more possible.

But as you stared up into his eyes, you knew you would do anything to avoid that fate.

He raised his eyebrows at your silence, a tiny smile creeping up his lips and nearly making you shiver. "I will speak with the archbishop tomorrow-"

Mind working quickly, you blurted out, "What if we hosted a ball?"

The outburst made him pause. Brow furrowing in confusion, Nicholas squinted before responding, his voice dry. "A ball?"

"You've...you've been wanting to host a gathering," you managed, the words tumbling from your mouth as you tried to find footing on a solid reason. Anything to delay it. Anything to delay it. "And besides, it would give me an opportunity to...get to know my...suitors...better. Or perhaps find a new one among the invited nobles."

He appeared taken aback by your suggestion. Never before had you expressed a single modicum of interest in the men presented before you. And normally you wouldn't have offered up the chance of more time with them, but this situation was precarious. You would take a night of dancing with supposedly well-bred princes if it prolonged any suggestion of marriage to such a vile man.

Nicholas appeared incredulous. You held your breath, sure he would say no. He would see through your thinly veiled plan and insist you marry him at once.

He surprised you when he said, "I will allow it." Your shoulders slumped just slightly, but stiffened again when he said, "But if by the conclusion of the evening you have found no one to at the very least court, we will move forward with the second option."

Swallowing, the weight of the responsibility apparent on your shoulders, you nodded, aware this was likely the best possible outcome. "Fine."

"Good." Nicholas caught sight of a courtier motioning to him from the nearby door and waved you off. "Best you retire for the night. We will discuss details come morning."

How easy it was for him to decide and discuss pressing matters of your future as if they were nothing more than the weather. You envied him for that.

Clutching your skirts, you hurried quickly up the stairs like a storybook maiden to her tower, heart racing when the door was shut behind you. The sun had long sunk into the earth, darkness engulfing your space. Stars winked at you through the window, the moon peeking out a corner. Deciding not to ring for your maid, you squinted at the little table beside the door and lit the candle sitting in its golden holder.

Lifting it to observe your surroundings, you nearly had the fright of your life when you saw Billy casually sitting on your window seat, stroking the neck of his dove, which had a little envelope attached to its foot.

Putting a hand to your heart, your shoulders moved up and down as you breathed in, recovering from the shock. "You frightened me."

"Sent this hours ago." Billy nodded to the dove, fingers making quick work of untying the message. He set the bird on the windowsill, watching it fly away briefly before turning back to you. "When I came to our spot you weren't there. I was gettin' worried."

"It was a long day," you said apologetically, setting the candle down on your vanity surface and beginning to remove pins from your hair. Out of the corner of your mind you saw his shadow stand, and before you knew it a pair of arms were wrapping around your midsection, his familiar scent steadying your heartbeat like a comforting hand.

Setting a handful of pins on the table, you removed your tiara and shook out your hair, then turning to bury your face into him. He kissed the top of your head, one hand rubbing your back, callouses catching on the silk of your dress. "That bad, huh?"

"It's the king," you murmured into him. "I wasn't aware of how serious he was about marriage..." You shuddered slightly, and Billy's arms tightened around you. There was a blanket of silence that covered you both for a moment, sheathing you in a comfortable place where you couldn't be disturbed. Hesitantly whispering into this void, you said, "I managed to put him off."

"Smart girl. 'Course ya did," he muttered, brushing some of your hair behind your shoulder. Though his motions and words were casual, you could hear the uncertainty behind them. "What'd ya do?"

"I convinced him to hold a ball," you sighed, pulling back from Billy and facing the other way, folding your arms over yourself. "To find a suitor. Whether it be one of the ones I met today or some other nobleman. But I..." Tears stung your eyes as the suddenly very real possibility fell upon on you. "I'll have to marry either way. I don't want to, Billy-" the rest of your sentence was lost to tears, and you covered your face with your hands.

He gave you a moment before you felt his hands on your elbows. Turning and clutching at his shirt, your body shook as awful images swam before your eyes. You in a white dress, on the arm of some faceless stranger, or worse yet, the king. Someone else kissing you, someone else...

Billy's hand came to hold the back of your head, pressing it to his shoulder as he let every crystal tear that rained down your cheeks sink into the fabric of his shirt, leaving little dots in the blue fabric. His body began to sway slightly, rocking you back in forth in a soothing motion that stirred the beginnings of quelling your fear.

There was no outside world in his arms. Though time seemed to speed up when you were encased within them, you hid there as long as you were able. He was a vision in your darkness.

You lifted your head from his chest like a rabbit poking its head from a hole in the ground. He thumbed the side of your cheek, leaning in to kiss your nose gently. The brim of his hat poked your forehead, and you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes.

Then you were pulling him down easily, hesitating before pressing your lips to his. It was a whisper of a kiss that he returned, but when you nudged your nose against his cheek, he took the cue and deepened it.

Billy's hands were at your waist, squeezing lightly as his lips dragged over yours. He held your waist against his, making you arch your back at the feeling. But his hand came to support you, splaying over your spine and the other on your head guiding your mouth forward to meet his.

Hands finding the handkerchief around his neck, you tugged at it, beginning to step backward. Billy followed, chasing your lips as he pressed hot, needy kisses to them. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you let yourself fall back, bringing him sprawling down on top of you. The plush mattress swallowed you, surrounding you both in the pink covers, embroidered with little flowers. He did the gentlemanly thing and rolled you over so he was on the bottom, and you weren't crushed by his weight.

Billy held you by your waist, one hand on your back gently pulling your body into his. You pushed his hat away, off the bed, shifting so your legs were on either side of his waist. He paused briefly, lifting you under your arms to sit upright as he did too. Looking into your eyes, he let his hands slide down your sides, skimming the edges of your breasts. You searched his eyes, trying to read them when the only light was still flickering on your vanity table.

"How far d'ya wanna go, baby?" he whispered, catching your lips in the softest brush. "This ain't...this ain't just kisses."

You pawed lightly at the buttons of his shirt, eyes focused on them though you knew his were firmly set on your face. Fingers hooking on the first fastened one, you breathed, "I don't want anybody else to have me this way. Just you." Lifting your eyes to meet his, you reached for his hand, lifting it to cover your heart. "I want you to have me first."

Billy tenderly lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers. He murmured against them, "'m happy just bein' with ya, sweet girl."

"I want you to be the only one who's had all of me." Your breath hitched on the last word, and he opened his eyes. Though the air was black, you swore you could see the oceanic blue of his eyes through it all. Every word that fell from your mouth you meant. You were tired of wearing his love like a secret.

Leaning against him, you nudged your nose against his. "You have my heart and my mind and my soul. Take the last part. I'm giving it to you."

Billy's silence was filled with awe. He just looked at you for a moment, and you were unfortunately reminded of the way the king did earlier. But it was in comparison. Nicholas' stare was wicked and conniving, looking to devour you like a step to his pedestal. But the man in front of you, your love, your life...his gaze held a feeling bigger than the whole sky and everything in it. Billy touched you as if you were precious, like he didn't deserve you. And the fact that he didn't think he did meant he was the only one worthy.

You leaned up, kissing him softly and closing his hand over your breast. He nuzzled your cheek once, hand sliding to the back of your dress and beginning to fidget with the buttons. Your mouth was busy on his, and so you couldn't convey how impressed you were when he managed to undo the top part, pushing it down your chest.

Your undergarment was white, edged with lace, with a little rose in the center. Billy took one look at you and dove in, lips trailing down your jaw and falling down your neck, fastening to your collarbone in slow, hot kisses. Head tilted back to give him better access, your hand tangled in his hair, encouraging him to keep going.

Reaching around yourself, you pulled your shoes off and tossed them aside, eager fingers unhooking his buttons. Once his shirt was off, you looked at him fascinatedly, curiously running a hand down his chest and looking up at him questioningly. He smiled, touching your hand on him. "'s okay. You can touch me. Wantcha to."

He held you close as you explored him, patiently endeared. Billy leaned in to kiss you carefully, murmuring against your lips, "You're beautiful, darlin'. M' pretty girl."

Billy turned you over, setting you down against the covers and slowly working your dress off your body, his hands worshipful. The way he looked at you was nothing short of adoring.

The movements of his lips ebbed and flowed as he took his time with you, holding you close as he made you feel things that were sacred to him only. He was your light, your love, the best love you had ever known.

When it was all over, he laid beside you, hair messy, eyes soft. His arm was absentmindedly flung above your head, fingers brushing through your strands. It was a symphony of affection, the way he looked at you. Lying facing him, knees tucked slightly up with one arm covering your breasts and the other hand clasped with his free one between you. Your thumb traced his fingers, and he let you.

"Did it feel good?" he whispered, and you smiled at the concern in his tone.

Nodding slightly, you shifted, snuggling closer to him and enjoying the image of him, bare and settled on your rosy sheets. Even though he contextually didn't, for a moment he belonged here. In your bed, with you. "It was wonderful," you breathed, eyes sparkling.

Billy bundled you in his arms, kissing your temple and soothing a hand over your back. He murmured, "My angel."

It was sunrise before he left, not immune to your pleas for him to stay, but also wary of the setting. You sleepily watched him dress, burrowed in the covers of your bed, his spot still warm beside you; sheets rumpled, blankets folded aside. The brand-new morning light bathed him in an incandescent glow that made you question whether he was real.

He began to button up his shirt, and with every movement, you could feel the impending doom of his departure. When he retrieved his hat from the floor and tugged his boots on, you sat up, saddened and holding the sheets to your chest.

Billy sat on the edge of the bed, giving you an apologetic smile. "'M sorry, baby."

"It's okay," you said softly, thankful to even have had a few hours asleep in his arms. Billy stood, retrieving the nightdress you hadn't put away from the morning before, draped over a nearby chair.

He bunched it in his hands, holding it open. "Lift your arms f' me pretty. Don't want 'em to find ya sleepin' like this." You smiled, still half hazy from your previous unconscious state, raising your arms so he could pull the nightdress over your shoulders and guide your hands through the sleeves. When he'd pulled the garment down to at least your thighs, he gave you a fond look, pulling you in one last time and kissing your forehead, his nose brushing your hair. "I love you."

You picked at the embroidery on the covers, managing a sweet smile as he stood up, running a gentle hand down your face, lingering as long as he could. When he was halfway out the window, he blew you a kiss, softly saying, "I'll write."

And then he was gone, the sun peeking over the horizon where his body no longer blocked it.

The lively spirit of the night was present in everybody except for you.

You'd had your feet stepped on more times than you could count, nobles and lords feeding you lines that were meant to be charming but came across as unflattering. Standing there, in your pale rose gown that fell off your shoulders, cascading in ruffles to the floor in a full skirt, you had never felt more alone.

The music was wonderful, the dancing animated. Young women were chattering with surrounding nobles, and you wished them all the best. The king was seated on his golden throne to the right of you, and his stare was apparent, though you could not see it. Your hand, as usual, was on your heart-shaped necklace. Its previous owner was present, and when she had come to greet you as was custom, she had eyed it curiously, letting some subtly snide remark pass her lips. The whole interaction only made you miss Billy more.

You were painfully reminded of the night you'd met, of seeing his azure eyes under his mask, of the way he'd made you laugh in a way nobody had been able to since your father had departed for his battle.

Bowing your head and looking down at your feet, you took in a breath. The night was nearly half over, and you'd gotten through the first part. Perhaps you could find someone inconsequential to dance with. Looking up, you craned your head to see if there was a nearby gentleman you could approach, maybe pretend to flirt with so he'd ask you to take to the floor. Anything to remove yourself from the king's side.

From where you were standing, high upon the podium of a grand double staircase where partygoers came up one side and exited the other, a motion in the crowd was visible. Someone had arrived.

Your plans to find a dance partner were briefly scrapped as you smoothed your skirt, preparing a gracious nod in your repertoire. Expecting a lord of advanced years with a girl your age hanging off his arm, you lifted your chin.

Eyes widening, hand falling from your necklace to hang limply at your side, the sight was not at all what you had foreseen. Instead of an aged duke, the refreshing sight of Billy greeted you. Only he didn't look like Billy at all.

His hair was combed and smoothed, his usual outlaw's clothes replaced by ones of a finer manner. He looked so handsome, so at ease, like he'd been born into this world. As he walked through the crowd, heads turned, but his eyes were focused on you.

Ascending the stairs, he folded a hand over his chest, bending in a gallant bow. You had seen him do it so many times, which is how you realized this one was slightly mocking as he looked at Nicholas. It warmed your heart, and you held back a giddy smile.

"Your Majesty," he greeted the king. Then, turning to you, he lifted your hand to his lips, a spark in his eyes as he kissed it. "Princess."

You bent your knees slightly; a little curtsy. "My lord." Allowing the tiniest smile to lift your lips, you showed him your recognition.

Nicholas frowned at the newcomer. "You appear exceedingly familiar," he began. "Were you in attendance at the masquerade hosted here last year?"

"I was, sir," Billy nodded, and you bit the inside of your cheek. Nicholas wouldn't know that he likely knew his face from wanted posters.

"I remember him," you cut in, giving Billy a secret smile. "He was a wonderful dancer if I recall."

"If it isn't too bold," Billy responded. "Might I have a dance now?"

"You may," you said modestly, still holding his hand. He let go and offered his arm, which you gladly took.

Sweeping you up in a dance, Billy smoothly followed the steps, nearly making you swoon. As you twirled and clasped his hand, you whispered, "How ever did they allow you in?"

"It's amazin' what a little cleanin' up will do to a man, darlin'," Billy grinned, dipping you slightly. "Nobody's recognized me yet."

Laughing slightly and shaking your head, you squeezed your hand clasped around his. "I can't believe you've done this."

"But you're happy I did?" he questioned, twirling you again.

"Very," you nodded, smiling brightly.

The dance ended, and you curtsied to his bow. Billy kissed your hand again, the only part of you he could kiss at the moment without arousing suspicion. He held your hand between your bodies, searching your eyes. "Needa tell ya somethin'. Can we talk, sweetheart?"

"Of course," you nodded, letting go of his hand. Looking back at the king, you saw him whispering to a courtier, not sparing you a glance. Taking Billy aside, you stepped out into the empty hallway, hoping the king was still occupied. Truthfully, you weren't allowed to be alone with a man without a chaperone, but you were long past that with Billy.

The second you were alone he had you in a kiss, holding the side of your face. Pulling back with a smile, he murmured, "You're beautiful. Prettiest girl I ever saw."

"You look handsome," you whispered, fingering the collar of his shirt. "Where did you find these?"

"Few from a noble's house," he smiled. "Few from townspeople kind enough t' help me out. Told 'em I wanted to dress up for my girl." Billy settled his hands on your waist. "They remembered ya from the festival."

Giggling, you threw your arms around him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. Frowning, you drew back. "You shaved."

"Couldn't show up for my princess all scruffy," he mock-frowned. "Wouldn't be right."

"Oh!" you traced his newly smoothed cheek, eyes following your finger. Then you caught his eye again. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Billy looked you over, seeming to take you in as a spectator does a work of art. He brushed your hair behind your ears, pecking your forehead once. "I had a thought, baby, after the festival. 'n when you mentioned the ball I saw an opening. I'm already pretendin' to be a lord tonight. What if..." he swallowed, his hand finding rest on your cheek. You leaned into it, smiling softly. "What if I pretended a little bit more? 'n we went to the king 'n you told him you found someone?"

Lips parting slightly, you blinked a few times, astonished by his suggestion. He looked nervous for your reaction. Then, your face collapsed into a relieved smile, and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. Through the sudden motion your tiara nearly fell off, but his hand came up instantly, steadying it on your head. You sniffled, weeping because he'd somehow managed to find a way to fix it all. "Oh, Billy."

"You wanna do it, sweetheart?" he questioned as you pulled back to look at him.

Nodding quickly, you squeezed his hand. "Yes. Yes, I want to."

Billy brought both his hands up to your face, kissing your forehead once, his touch full of joy. "By the time he figures out who I am it'll be too late, sweet girl. Maybe even by the time your father comes back."

"He'd like you," you smiled, knowing it to be true. Then your face fell slightly. "He'll be so upset to see what Nicholas has done to his people."

"I know, baby." He kissed both your cheeks, nudging his nose against yours. "But it's gonna get better."

"There have been whispers about him returning soon," you said softly, holding his wrists. "But I am unsure of their truth. I don't know if Nicholas would tell me if he received any word." Biting your lip anxiously, you felt panic start to overtake you. "Being out with you that night...seeing all these good people whom the current king has wronged, I... it's so awful, Billy-"

"Hey, hey, baby," he murmured, folding his body around yours in a comforting way. "It's okay. 'S all okay. That's what my men 'nd I are tryin' to right. We can only do so much but sometimes it's enough." Billy kissed your hair, burying his nose in it. "When your father comes back it'll get better."

The guilt of the crown was weighing on you, everything suddenly washing over your being. The chance of your birth had spared you, and that was the only difference between you and the women you'd met at the festival. You loathed yourself for not seeing it sooner- the effect the king's practices had on these good, hardworking people. So much so that they had to celebrate in secret the traditions of their town.

And the fact that Billy was at the center of it all made you feel blind. How could you have not seen it so clearly before?

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears choking your voice. "I'm sorry I've been too privileged to see everything outside the castle walls. I do so want to help..."

"Oh, my baby," he muttered, hand holding the back of your head. Billy rubbed your back, rocking you back and forth soothingly. "Sweetheart...you've already done more than you know."

"By being naive?" you asked bitterly, hiding your face in his chest.

"By lovin' me," he whispered, and you lifted your eyes, clutching at his shirt. Billy's eyes were tender as he said, "Sweetheart...the idea that the princess could love an outlaw like me is unthinkable. Most would never think it possible. But you..." he shook his head, seemingly in awe. "You never judged. Your heart was open. That's more than most of the people in that room-" he nodded at the doors to the ball and you followed his eyes. "-could ever say."

"I wish to do more," you said softly.

Billy leaned in, pecking you once, then again. "You will. By marryin' me. That, sweet girl, that severs the line separating us."

You looked up at him with bright, loving eyes, feeling the truth of his words. Billy meant it. He had never said a thing to you that wasn't sincere. In a rush of passion, you pulled him down for a kiss, showing him how much it all meant to you.

It was needy, his hands gripping your waist as the rushed intensity of your love was mounted to this level. Soon, you wouldn't be separated, free to love in the daylight. He would be yours, golden and loving and free.

The doors burst open, and you automatically clung to Billy, terrified. When the king came forth, you were frozen, before remembering your lover's ruse. Straightening up, you still held his hand. "Your Majesty. This is-"

"I'm very aware of who this is," the king replied cooly as a pair of guards filed in, pulling Billy away from you and holding him stiffly by the arms, much to your horror. "Imagine that. An outlaw sneaking into the ball."

"He's a suitor like any other," you protested, going to Billy and taking his hand. You tried not to let your fear show.

"Hardly, for a woman of your status," the king glared. "I assume this is who you have been sneaking out to see? How common." His fierce gaze nearly pierced you. "Your night is finished. Take him to the dungeons."

"No!" you cried out, not caring if anyone behind the doors to the party heard. Billy tugged on your hand, trying to calm you, but your emotions were already in control. "Please...Your Majesty, he has done nothing wrong."

"The list of charges against his name would suggest otherwise," Nicholas replied cooly, stepping forward and grabbing your arm like a snake sinking its fangs into skin. "I hope you've had your fun- any chance of choosing for yourself is over. We are going back inside and promising you to the first prince I see."

Your breathing quickened, tears springing to your eyes. "Don't do this...let me go-!"

"I have been more-" Nicholas yanked you forward so you stumbled into his body. You immediately tried to distance yourself, his proximity making you shiver in the worst way. Gritting his teeth, he used his leverage on your arm to shove you to the ground. Your skirts spread around you, making a pathetic scene. "-than generous, allowing you to dally for this long. It is about time I took control you wretched-"

"Don't you-" Billy began to struggle against the guards, who stood steady, when the king began to insult you. Looking around at the chaos of the situation, your lower lip trembled. The love of your life bound and about to be imprisoned, and you the same in different circumstances. Mind racing, you saw only one solution, and it wrenched itself from your throat.

"I'll marry you!" you burst out, and everything stopped. Billy's movements hindered, and the king's grip on your arm loosened. When you had their attention, you steadied your breath, though tears were welling up in your eyes. "I will marry you if you let him go free. Just this once. He has not committed any crime on these premises. Let him go..." you turned to Billy, meeting his desperate eyes. "And he will never return."

"No!" Billy shook his head, beginning to resist the guards again. "Sweetheart-"

"Silence." Nicholas' voice was firm. He huffed a breath, looking slightly off put, but pleased nonetheless. The expression frightened you. He reached a hand down, smoothing over your bare shoulder and making goosebumps sprout from your skin. Nodding slightly, he said, "We will be married as soon as possible." Signaling to the guards, he barked, "Take him to the gates."

"Wait," you spoke up suddenly, and he turned to you. Fidgeting with your hands, you whispered. "A moment alone? Please?"

The king raised his eyebrows but gave a single inclination of his head. "For my future bride, yes." Waving a hand at the guards, he said, "Five minutes. And then make sure he leaves." Nicholas turned and left after that, giving Billy one final look of haughtiness. It was his childish last play. I have what you want.

When the doors were shut behind him, the guards stepped to the side, releasing Billy, who rushed to you immediately, kneeling beside you. In his arms before you knew it, your body shook, tiara falling from your head and landing with a soft thump in your skirts. He didn't bother to fix it this time.

"Sweetheart...my baby..." Billy was running his hands over your body, checking for any sign of injury. When he found none, he drew you tight against him, kissing your hair over and over. "My girl...you shouldn'ta done that. Shoulda just let me get caught, I woulda found a way out..."

"No," you shook your head tearfully. "He would have had you executed. I couldn't let him."

"My best girl," he murmured into your head. When you drew back to look at him, you could see that his own eyes were wet. "I'll find a way back to ya, I'll-"

"You cannot ever come back," you sniffled, voice hitching on your sobs. "I will be under strict watch once I marry him. It is too much of a risk. Please Billy, you have to promise me you won't ever return."

"Don't do this," he begged, holding your face in both hands. He kissed one cheek, then your nose, then your lips. Your eyes stayed open, and you felt a wave of pure sorrow descend over you at the longing he exhibited. "We'll find a way, baby. You 'n me, it's always you 'n me-"

"Billy?" you choked, and he stopped. Reaching up, you pressed a kiss to his lips; more passion-filled and full of light and all the most wonderful things than any you had shared before.

He returned it, and you swore you could feel his tears on your cheeks. Billy's lips caressed yours in a way you knew you would remember forever. Daylight no longer.

A guard cleared his throat, and you drew back slowly, knowing your time was up. Billy grasped at you as if he was committing your being to memory. "I love you, sweetheart. I'll never stop."

"I love you," you breathed as the guards moved forward, taking your lover by the arms and pulling him away from you.

You stared at them until they disappeared completely, then unsteadily picked up your tiara, settling it on your head. The princess once again. Not his princess.

Getting to your feet, tears falling, you made the journey to your room. Shutting the door, you wept openly, body wracked with your sobs as the gravity of what you'd lost overcame you.

Your love, your one love, detained by your only hate.

Marriage can either be a promise or a punishment.

Looking in the silver framed mirror in your bedroom, you held back tears at the sight of your reflection. Your dress was a stark white, though you knew with satisfaction that the virginal color was no longer appropriate. A tiny pink rose dotted the center of your neckline, your one say in the making.

The sky was grey, matching your somber mood with the promise of rain. At least it would match your tears later on tonight.

The king had insisted on marrying within a week, which surprised you. Knowing him, you would have thought that he'd want to show off, throw the most lavish ceremony anybody had ever seen. But instead, there were but a few witnesses to be present.

Turning your head to look around at your room, the pink no longer seemed cheerful. Once you married Nicholas, this would no longer be your space. Knowing him, he would force you to sleep in his bed. There wasn't a more dreadful place you could imagine.

Something caught your eye, and you moved toward it when you saw what it was. Your veil dragged behind you like a death sentence. A letter. The one from Billy you'd missed after spending the day with princes.

Snatching it up, you broke the seal, eager to read what were now his last words to you. Your eyes scanned the page, and impossibly, you felt more tears on your face. You'd cried so much over the past week, and the last line of Billy's letter made water push its way into your eyes once again.

My love, my life, my darling, I love you no matter what.

Covering your mouth, you turned away, eyes closing. Maybe you would appear at the alter with a tearstained face, but that was the least of your worries.

You couldn't do it. You couldn't promise yourself to a man you utterly despised when there was a man you loved right at your fingertips. Hang the law, hang Nicholas' will. You would run away with Billy wearing your wedding dress if you had to.

Scrambling to your desk, you grasped for your pink feathered quill, dragging stationary over and scribbling a quick note to Billy. You would bribe one of the maids to bring it to the place the doves were kept and send it.

There was a shuffling at your window and you jumped, eyes wider than the moon when you saw Billy of all people stumbling through. Leaping to your feet, you shook your head. "No. No! Billy you can't be here they'll hang you-"

"Darlin', listen," he interrupted, cutting you off and coming to grasp your elbows, his eyes excited. "I heard from a few folks 'round town- your father was spotted riding in. He's on his way home."

Gasping, you searched his eyes, finding truth. As if he'd ever lie to you. "He's coming home?"

"He's comin' home," Billy repeated, and you threw yourself into his arms, elated by his news. After nearly a year of being absent, of leaving you unintentionally to the mercy of a horrible man, your beloved father was returning. Though, you supposed, if it hadn't been for your father's departure, you never would have met Billy. And then the realization of what he'd done found you. He'd heard about this and then ridden all the way to tell you.

Smiling, you opened your mouth to say something, but then your face fell. "He...he didn't write me," you whispered, brow furrowing in confusion. "I thought he would have..." And then it hit you.

Billy frowned, holding you around your waist. "Sweetheart? What'sa matter?"

Staring at him, you took in a breath as you uncovered the truth. There was only one person who could have intercepted your father's letters to you, only one person who had motive.

A tidal wave of awareness overwhelmed you, filling your body with adrenaline. Despite the raging storm on your insides, you took in a breath, standing up straight. Calmly, you took his hand, giving him a sweet smile. "Come with me."

Still looking confused, he said, "Baby-" but you cut him off with a shake of your head, tugging his hand and pulling him along behind you, taking your bouquet of pink roses in your other hand.

"Trust me." you kissed his cheek, and he visibly melted, following along behind you and making sure not to step on the train of your dress.

The stares of the servants you passed in the hallway were ignored. You knew the two of you made an odd pair- the princess in her wedding dress and a famed outlaw. Nobody stopped you though, likely due to the look of raw determination on your face.

Kicking open the door to the chapel, you could feel Billy tense beside you, but he did not falter, staying at your side. Standing at the alter, you saw Nicholas turn, his face descending into a frown.

Taking a step forward, he nearly growled, "What is he-"

"My father is returning," you announced, your voice echoing in the nearly empty expanse of the palace's religious space. It would have been peaceful if it were not for your simmering anger.

Nicholas faltered, seeming shocked. "How-"

"You wanted to marry me as leverage," you spat, chest heaving as emotion overtook you. "To keep your power after my father returned. That's why you insisted on doing this so quickly, why you withheld his letters to me. Because you knew that if I knew he was coming home I would never marry you." Letting go of Billy's hand, you took another step forward, still holding your bouquet. "I will never-"

A sharp noise sounded in the pews as Nicholas brought his hand to your face, the force of the move sending you sprawling to your knees, bouquet dropped to the tile. You collapsed into your skirts, holding your reddened cheek and keeping your head down.

"Fuckin' bastard," Billy swore, getting to his knees and gathering you in his arms. You looked up at him, eyes wide, observing him glare at Nicholas.

He reached forward and yanked you from Billy's arms, making you stumble as you resisted. "Whether your father is returning or not, he isn't here now." Beginning to drag you to the front of the church, he gave a shout. "Guards! Arrest him!"

You cringed, waiting for the sound of boots on the checkered tile of the church floor. But they never came.

Looking up, your eyes darted from Billy to the nearby soldiers, waiting for them to seize him. Their stillness was eerie to you.

Finally one stepped forward, stick in his hand clicking as his brow furrowed. "Is it true that the king is returning?"

Reigning in your breaths, you nodded, stilling in Nicholas' grasp.

The man lifted his chin, looking at his fellow guards, who wore similar expressions. Then they all dropped their staffs, moving nearly in sync.

Bracing yourself for the sounds of your lover being captured, you were frozen with shock as they moved right past him, the one who'd spoken gently pulling you from Nicholas' grip.

He looked at the men, mouth slightly open as he watched their actions. "What-" A punch from another guard cut him off, and he fell to the ground, mouth bleeding onto the chapel floor.

The guard who had spoken nodded approvingly, commanding, "Take him away. The true king will decide his fate once he arrives."

A mix of relief and joy was filling you to the brim, and so too did the knowledge that Nicholas' reign of terror had finally ended. You turned to the guard to thank him, when he addressed Billy. "You provided the funds for my wife to receive help when she was ill." He began to walk you over to your lover, and you immediately latched onto Billy, burying your face in his chest. Your arms came around him, and the guard's next words were muffled as he said, "We had seen the both of you in the garden before. But the former king's word meant little unless it was a direct order."

Billy said something back to him, and the sound of footsteps retreating was heard, the shouts of Nicholas in the background silenced by the shutting doors.

Lifting your head to look at Billy, you felt a wide smile overtake you, and pure, unfiltered joy became your north star. He leaned in, pressing a series of kisses to your face and holding you tight in his arms. "Are you alright, baby? You hurt?" His hand felt your afflicted cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

"I'm okay," you whispered, seemingly unable to stop smiling. "I'm okay, Billy. For the first time in so long."

He shook his head in grateful disbelief, leaning in and raining soft kisses all over your face. "It's over, baby. It's all over. Oh my girl...my sweet girl..."

You wrapped your arms tight around him, feeling lighter than air, higher than the clouds. There was no title or rank now, only the clarity of the battle finally won.

Billy didn't seem to want to let go of you as he whispered into your hair, "Let's getcha back to your room 'n into somethin' else. Look so pretty, but I wantcha to be comfortable."

"You'll stay?" you questioned, looking up at him with doe eyes.

He smiled, chucking you under the chin and kissing your forehead. The spark of love in his eyes had become a raging wildfire. One you could cozy up next to for hours so long as you were in his arms.

"Darlin', I ain't ever leavin' again."

Sunlight was glorious.

Succumbing to its glow, you breathed in the fresh air, opening your eyes to fix upon the delicate willow leaves. The careful breeze made them brush slightly against each other, and your lips turned up slightly at the sight. Peace was settled over your being, gracing you and whispering that everything was okay.

Rolling your head to the side, your smile expanded, lips parting a bit as the sight of your lover greeted you. He'd been staring at you the entire time, his gaze lovingly devoted. No longer was he forced to exist only in the quiet nooks and hidden gaps between the weight of your royalty.

You reached your hand out, the ring on your finger glistening as you took his hand, clasping it in yours. Billy pulled you closer with it, letting go to lift you up onto him, legs slotted between his. He kissed your hair, breathing in the scent of the natural rose perfume the garden offered. Resting your head on his chest, you let the steady beat of his heart relax you even further.

"My wife," he murmured against your head, and you felt his gentlest of kisses raining on your skin. "My sweetheart..."

Giggling, you lifted your head. "Just because we are allowed to be together, it does not mean we can be so...open."

"Agree to disagree, darlin'," he said into your cheek, lips pressing into it. "Everyone knows we just got back from our honeymoon. 'Sides, we're alone out here. The roses don't mind a little lovin'."

Sitting up on his hips, you braced your hands on his chest before he came upright as well. "But someone could see us."

"Ahh, let 'em." He trailed kissed down your neck to your collarbone. "The king seems all too happy to have me as an in-law. We won't get in trouble."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and just resting your head there. "He likes you."

"He likes that I make his daughter happy," Billy corrected, grinning.

"No, he does like you," you leaned up, kissing his cheek. He kept his scruff limited, but you still were able to enjoy the scratch of it. "You're so good. Better than many a man of the nobility."

He rubbed your cheek with his thumb, pecking your other one softly. When you were alone, it seemed to be hard for Billy to stop kissing you, even for a second. His nose poked your cheek as he trailed his lips over your face.

Snuggling closer, you burrowed your body right against his, so you were nearly one person. Billy cooed, holding you against him with a gentle hand on your back. "Sweet girl..."

"He's expecting us for dinner soon," you commented, still thinking of your father.

Billy chuckled, his fingers lightly running up and down your spine. "We'll make it in time. I wanna look at my wife some more."

"You look at me often," you laughed, looking up and giving him a chaste kiss.

"I've had to look atcha for so long in darkness," he started, suddenly rolling you over to an onslaught of giggles. Billy held himself up by his elbows, gaze almost permanently fixed on you. He brushed his lips over your nose. "Don't know if I'll ever get used to seein' ya in the sun. It's like seein' an angel." The last few words were spoken in a sort of quiet awe, and you couldn't help your soft smile.

"I love you," you breathed. You only got two words out before he kissed you, the last one spoken into his mouth.

"My princess," he muttered worshipfully. "I love you."

As the sun began to set, you let him soak up every last bit of the image of you in the light, kissing every inch of your face and torso. He was the hard-earned prize of your fruitful fantasies of knights and rescuers. In every way he had saved you, not treating you as a damsel in distress, but as a woman worthy.

In the blue of his eyes you found solace, in the space of his arms comfort. Billy had shown you your own personal world of stars, of things you had want of. He gave it all to you, every bit. The world was no longer limited, and you were not enclosed in the gilded cage of before.

He wrote your 'Once Upon a Time', sealing it with a storybook kiss and a flourished end. Your happily ever after.

Previous Part

[trigun-manga-overhaul]

TRIGUN ULTIMATE OVERHAUL JUNE 2024 UPDATE

OVERHAUL UPDATE 06/07/24 - Going slow, but changes are ahead.

Hey, everyone, and welcome back to another monthly update.

Keep an eye out this Monday, June 10th, for an upload announcement.

The push back of the Japanese volume release to next month has been helpful, as it gave the team time to breathe. The release schedule is picking up with the work, as not as much work has been done the last few months as planned. For now, TriMax Vol 7 will release the first Monday in July and our usual schedule will continue as before. If anything changes, we'll keep you all updated on that.

There's one main factor counting into the slow work and delay, but it's more personal, so if you don't want to know, then you can just skip ahead of the next bit.

~~

I, as in the project lead, am the primarily cleaner and redrawer for the project, meaning that the delays are entirely on me.

For the last year and a half I've had a job that I took as an emergency, right after I lost my translator position due to the financial crisis. Meaning, the emergency job was supposed to be temporary, just to keep food on the table until I found something I'm more qualified to do.

Things, of course, didn't turn out like that and I've worked the same retail job for one and half years now. A retail job is usually no issue for me, but this was a newly started business with an inexperience owner, so the stress levels have been very high. My boss is understanding and kind, but also very drained and fighting to stay afloat.

I've worked hard to help as much as I could, setting up inventory systems and and an online shop/catalogue, which took most of my energy for personal projects. Now that things are finally stable, I've handed in my resignation and will leave the business in August/September, and therefore hopefully also leave me with more energy and time.

~~

Anyway, with that info, it's time for a few double page spreads!

The number of double page spreads per chapter has gone up dramatically from Vol 6, and they are all highly detailed, a trend that seems to continue into Vol 8, as well. It's been requiring a lot of work to fix these up, sometimes only managing to do a single one a night.

~~

That's all for this month's update. If there are any topics or parts of our process that you want to hear more about, don't hesitate to send an ask or leave a comment on this post.

SEE YOU GUYS NEXT MONTH!