#Outlaw: Heartless

[calliecopper]

I feel like it's pretty clear that in RDR Arthur was more Hosea's son than Dutch's, and John was more Dutch's son than Hosea's.

John, especially in RDR1, has a very eloquent way of speaking without saying much at all. He uses his language to convince others hes more than what he is, that hes an educated respectable man rather than an ex-outlaw who can barely draw a duck. He uses frilly and grandiose language as a way of confusing and distracting others enough that they don't think twice about a gunslinger asking them to help him track down notorious outlaws. I feel like he definitely gets that from Dutch; talking big words and acting like you know everything when really you're just a clueless fool.

Meanwhile Arthur, he's conning everybody. He plays the big dumb heartless bastard who can't think an original thought, because he looks like a big dumb heartless bastard who can't think original thoughts. He acts a fool who's better for being a work horse than a prize pony because that's exactly what's expected of him, and he can catch people off guard by being surprisingly cunning and quick-witted. Nobody expects the dull yankee to have the foresight to stack the deck and give himself a pair of aces. He definitely gets that from Hosea; play a role, and take advantage when people let their guards down.

I don't think one is necessarily smarter than the other, but I think John definitely tries to flash a sense of knowledge and education that isn't there, while Arthur tries to hide the knowledge and education that is there. Both are to catch people off guard.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

To Love You

Pairing | wanted!Jimin x princess!Reader

Word Count | 16,1k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, Jimin is a wanted outlaw, mention of dead parents and conspiracy, the new king is a slimy being, mention of hatred, painful feelings and abandonment, many tears, Jimin is allergic to romantic feelings 💀, murders (sword, poison, torture…), attempted rape, lots of kissing and touching, breast worship, love marks, talks about having a baby, impregnation kink, sex in the woods, virginity loss, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, licking pussy, forcing orgasm, mild fantasy!AU toward the end, this is not for minors.

⤷ Summary | You have been separated from your beloved and your kingdom is under the rule of a heartless man, but all is not lost.

➢ Author's Note | I wrote this story because after Dark Moon I found it hard to part with Jimin, and at the same time I wanted to bring some sweetness to heal my heart a little, I hope you enjoy this story ❤️

ps: all images used for the banner belong exclusively to me!

Permanent Taglist: @katherine-kookie @btsuga-d @reallygenerouskoala @velvet-stardust2002, @takemeaway5402 @angelicsmilesworld @pantara @ke1k029 @btssimpjaneth

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"The multi-murderer Park Jimin here, the rebel leader who has been sowing terror in our lands for years, stealing from our families and killing our children, is sentenced to capital punishment, tomorrow at dawn the gallows will await his head."

A buzz rises in the room, all the attention of those present is focused on the commander of His Majesty's Royal Guards, the man is reading an official communiqué, with every word your heart receives a painful, deafening stinging.

Your eyes are steady on the blond-haired boy, kneeling in the middle of the hall, his mischievous gaze on the king, your uncle.

"The condemned man will be escorted immediately to his cell, where he will remain until the following morning, in the hope that he will repent of his deplorable deeds and ask God for forgiveness."

The boy’s grin deepens, in his ice-colored eyes that contributed to his fame, shines an amused spark, you know what it means… it’s that attitude of his that made you fall in love with him, your Jimin.

"Deplorable is forgetting the poor people you have killed for your own interests, mine was only justice, my lords...there should be someone else in my place, you all know that," the barb aimed directly at the king makes everyone present hold their breath. including you.

To address a tyrant ruler like your uncle in that way is simply insane, by your side you see the man in question clenching his fists and narrowing his gaze, but he dare not go on a rampage, not in front of his subjects, at least.

"Take him to his cell, that's where such a beast deserves to be," the king hisses, and when the guards badly pull Jimin to his feet, he finally looks at you-it's only an instant, but it's enough for you to notice his expression change from mischievous to wistful.

You barely hold back the tears as they take him away, unable to say or do anything, you promised him, you promised him you would do nothing foolish or dangerous, but your heart clenched in a painful grip calls out to him and longs to feel his embrace again, but yours is a secret that must be kept silent and hidden.

You feel a hand wrap itself around your shoulders and you shudder, watching your uncle's dark eyes stare at you suspiciously, the crown jewels shining wickedly on his head, as if mocking you, a princess forgotten by her people.

"Is there something you would like to say, my niece?" his words creep disgustingly down your spine, you want to spit in his face, but you hold back.

You clutch your robes in your hands, imprinting your best smile on your lips.

"No, Your Highness, I am calmer now, finally that outlaw has been caught" uttering those words kills you inside, it is before you the real outlaw, the one who plotted against your father to usurp his throne, you are alive only because you are a sweet and important pawn in your uncle's game, if you want to conquer a new country without shedding blood, you need a precious bargaining chip, no?

And in your veins runs the pure blood of a princess, an opportunity too tempting for your uncle who is already itching to give you away in marriage to who knows what spoiled, deadbeat prince.

You sense a gentler hand pulling you away, it is your wet nurse, sweet old Harun, she curtseys to your uncle and when he turns his attention to the other nobles in the room, the woman finally speaks, "Come, my lady, you must rest now" you let yourself be dragged away from her like a shattered rag doll, once this woman could patch you up, now you doubt that playing another of her games to cheer you up will have the desired effect, the love of your life will be executed tomorrow.

"It's over, Harun," you say with a sob stuck in your throat, "It's really over..." Harun stares at you with tears in her eyes.

After all, she witnessed your love; before he was an outlaw, Jimin was the son of a knight of the king, one of your father's best friends, you grew up together, you watched him practicing with his sword in the imperial gardens, hidden among the hedges as a princess should not have done, he loved practicing with you during dance lessons, you were very close and Harun had never dared to push you away, aware of the importance of a young love like yours.

After your uncle killed the king, Jimin's father rebelled by not accepting the new ruler and found death awaiting him, his family was stripped of its noble title and robbed of all wealth, throwing Jimin into a spiral of hatred and revenge.

He found ways to stir up trouble for the new king and his court by looting their homes or killing important members of their families, you on your side knew he was alive because of the whispers coming from the servants, with regret you realize that you saw his handsome face again as he was kneeling at the new king's feet and it will probably be the last time as well.

Harun gives you time to enter your bedroom, "My lady, Jimin never blamed you for what happened to him."

You smile softly, "I know, he... he is good, Harun, Jimin is good."

The elderly woman nods understandingly, it is when you sit on the bed that you notice something. Before you leave, Harun deliberately lets something slip among your things; it's a key.

"I hope you can both be happy, princess," she says before closing the door behind her.

With slow, tentative steps you reach for the key, you look around fearfully, almost expecting your uncle to pop out from somewhere, ready to accuse you of treachery, but when you grab the key to the castle dungeons nothing of what you imagined happens, you look out your window, the moon in the sky is high and motherly, almost inviting you to follow your heart, and with a salty smile you clutch the key to your chest.

Just for the thoughts invading your mind you deserve condemnation, but what do you have to lose now? If the love of your life dies tomorrow at dawn, then you will stand by his side, not among cruel people looking down on him.

Take a last look at your room, you spent a wonderful childhood within those walls; on the bed wrapped in tulle and silk you embroidered with your mother, on the carpet with your family crest you played while Harun braided your hair, good-naturedly reprimanding you if you spoke a little too loudly and smiling sweetly you remember at the window a young and cunning Jimin climbing a tree to join you in your rooms, that's how your first and only kiss happened, it was a light and chaste touch, but it was enough to leave you with your heart wrapped in joy.

Then it was all over, no more games, laughter or shy hugs at every corner of the castle. The new king ruined everything.

The night welcomes you and slips with you as you move like a shadow within the castle walls, after years of dancing your step is so light that the heels of your shoes do not make the slightest noise, you clutch the light shawl you have carried with you over your shoulders, shivering at the draught that penetrates through the draughts of the dungeons, you have found no guards as you pass, they are all focused on protecting the king and his apartments, the fear of possible revenge from Jimin's men is too vivid for them.

You descend the stone steps covering your nose with your shawl, the smell of mold is strong and makes your eyes water, drops of water whose origin is unknown to you fall from the ceiling, it is so dark that you are forced to take a torch from the wall and use it to light your way, the flame dances sinuously with your every movement and you finally access the last part of the long and winding corridor. A sickening smell of urine overtakes you as you approach the filthy cells, Jimin is locked up in such a place, another wicked way of trying to humiliate him.

There are five cells in all, in front of them you notice a wooden table with two chairs, that's where you immediately go, take the bottle of wine and swallow, you have to.

It's something you've always thought of reserving for your uncle someday, but Jimin's life is more important, so you firmly detach the thin chain you've been wearing around your neck since your father's death from your neck, you look one last time at the silver pendant with your family crest, then you open it with a small click and its contents are revealed, you throw a few pieces of the wolfsbane root into the wine, hoping that the guards will drink it before they realize what had been done, and with a shuddering breath you hide the necklace in the pockets of your dress.

Then, as if you hadn't just poisoned the bottle, you slowly make your way to the dirty rooms enclosed by old iron bars, you illuminate the cramped space of each cell by the torchlight flame, you notice beds of dirty, old straw and dark stains on the wall, you don't even want to imagine what it could be.

You notice a soft humming, it is gentle and sweet, you swallow recognizing the melody, he is there.

You approach the last cell with your heart in your throat, you haven't seen him in years, you don't know exactly how he will react to your presence, you repeat Harun's words in your head as you use the key she gave you to open the cell, the noise is creepy as you open the rusted iron door, the shadows inside are even more so.

You take a step in there, your feet meet more straw, it is so dark that you can only rely on the torch you clutch in your hand and the moonlight filtering through a tiny barred window, you try to look around but suddenly the flame goes out, the loss of light provokes in you the instinct to scream, but one hand rushes to close your mouth while another grabs you by the side, holding you to a warm body you didn't think you could touch again.

You shudder when the tip of his nose lightly brushes your neck, and you are inflamed to realize that he is inhaling your fragrance. You feel him smile against your skin before leaving a kiss on it that makes you lose several beats and your hair stand up pleasantly.

"What's a princess like you doing in a place like this... with someone like me?" he whispers in your ear as the tempting devil would, you'd be lying if you said he had no effect on you, your mind and body are hopelessly drawn to him.

His hand releases your mouth and reaches down to your neck, tightening it in a deliberately weak grip, you lick your lips before responding.

"I'm here to set you free, Jimin," you say softly, this makes him snort in amusement.

"Set me free? Oh, Y/N... I'm not afraid to die" you tremble when he says your name and turn in his arms, you try to look into his eyes but the only thing you catch is the dangerous glint in them.

"I do, I am afraid! I don't want you to die, Jimin..." you whisper in a broken voice and finally allow yourself to embrace him, rest your head on his warm chest and although he doesn't reciprocate, he does nothing to stop you.

It's a strange feeling you feel, he left you he was a skinny little boy full of rage, now he is a man facing death head on, but you are not ready to let him go one more time.

"And I don't want you to be here when the guards come back, this is high treason to the crown, Y/N," he growls looking at the open cell door and clutching your shoulders, he wants you to leave, you know.

"Do you think I care? No, Jimin... I stopped being a princess when my father and mother died, when you were forced to leave and left me alone" you say the last word bitterly, "If I die saving you, I will accept my fate."

He slowly pushes you back, each step brings you closer to the light filtering through the small window, and when you end up with your back to the wall, you can finally see clearly the face of the man he has become and your breath catches, his peculiar eyes hold a torment that does not shine through in his brazen voice, you raise a hand to his face and shyly brush the line of his jaw, his golden locks shine under the moonlight glow, it is shocking.

"You don't even know what you're saying, you're a silly princess who's read too many books and now thinks she can save an outlaw" he laughs softly shaking his head, "Go back to your room, Y/N and forget me" when he turns away from you and you lose the little hold you have on him, the world comes crashing down on you.

Forget him? He has no idea how many years you spent waiting for him, hoping he would take you away from your uncle's clutches, he never came to get you and yet you never stopped hoping, you shake your head looking at him sorrowfully. It is easy for him to say such a thing, after all, he has already left you in his past, a past he has turned his back on.

"You're probably right, I'm a silly princess who has read too many books and now wants to save an outlaw, but I won't forget you," you hiss feeling a sudden surge of anger, because if you gave in to the sadness that now clutches your heart you would find yourself crying on your knees and he doesn't deserve that, "It may have been very easy for you to make me disappear from your mind and heart, but don't think we're the same in this."

He does not answer you, you know he is gritting his teeth by the rhythmic click of his jaw, you thought you had found him and instead you are looking at a stranger.

"You've grown ... and you've changed," you whisper before turning toward the exit with a chill in your body, "The cell is open and the guards are focused on protecting the king, you pretty much have the coast clear."

Before you can leave, his voice stops you.

"What will happen to you? Every action has a repercussion, princess."

You smile without amusement; it's ridiculous how he avoids facing your feelings by pretending they don't exist.

"Don't waste your time on me and go, it's not even certain that they will find out," you sigh with one last look at the man who stole your heart and soul before freezing you, he now has his hands clasped around the bars of the window, as if he refuses to look at you. It is stupid what you are about to do, but you need one last test.

You let your shawl slide to the ground; if it is still in the straw tomorrow, you will be condemned in Jimin's place; if, on the other hand, the guards do not find it, it means the boy has taken it with him. You know you are being selfish, but you wish a part of you would stay with him, even though he would probably like not to think of you again.

"Jimin!" one of his friends notices him, and relief is immediate in the group.

They welcome him with open arms as he collapses to the ground, tired but happy to still have his head attached to his neck.

"We were already prepared to intervene during the public trial, but this changes everything! How did you escape?" Hoseok asks him with wide eyes, Jimin brings a hand to his damp and dirty hair, seriously in need of a bath after spending a night running through dirty streets and dirt.

"I was helped ... by a friend, let's say," he replies through clenched teeth, gratefully taking the water bottle Yoongi is handing him.

"A friend? Some servant girl you've had fun with in the past?" asks Taehyung smoothly, receiving a blow on the head from Namjoon.

It is Seokjin who notices the shawl that Jimin has tied around his waist, masterfully takes it before the boy can even notice and ignores the latter's protests.

"I'd say a princess," he says with a smile, spreading the fabric and displaying the royal family crest under the sunlight, "I knew it, she-"

"Stop. I know what you are going to say and I urge you to go no further," Jimin growls taking back your shawl, "She belongs in that castle."

"Kidnapping a princess is easy, so what's your problem?" in a not at all gentle way, Jungkook voices the question that has always crossed everyone's mind.

"Her place is not in that castle, everyone in the kingdom knows that ever since Cobra killed his brother and sister-in-law, he wants to use his niece as a bargaining chip with all countries provided with an heir" Namjoon looks at him sternly, but Jimin sighs.

"She is a princess, that is her duty."

He clutches your shawl tightly before getting up from the ground and heading to his tent, your place is not by his side, you are safer in that castle, whoever went against that foolish new king met his death, he will never forget the life in his father's eyes that faded away, nor the flames that burned his house and the king's guards that captured his mother and brothers, you will not end up the same way because of his selfishness, if leaving you by your uncle's side will preserve your life, then he will give up on you.

He clutches tightly at the fabric that still carries your sweet scent of vanilla and cookies, it was devastating to have had you next to him again without being able to hold you as he would have liked, for a moment the memories of childhood lulled him tenderly, but you are two different people now, he is different and must let you go, it is for your own good he thinks as he ties your shawl around his duffle bag, trying not to think back to the pain in your voice as you left the cell.

Someday, when you have a family of your own, you will understand the reason behind his every action.

The walls tremble at the king's shouts, he is furious.

Everyone in the hall looks at each other nervously, you keep your vacant and tired gaze, it has been three days since Park Jimin's escape and your uncle shows no sign of ending his fury, he has executed five guards and two nobles of his court suspected of helping Jimin with the escape. The reason is the poison found in the wine that killed the sentries who were on guard that night; it is a plant found only in the royal gardens and only the king and the nobles of his court have access to it.

"Who dared to betray the king?" is the question circulating among those in the hall as you crinkle the skirt of your gown with nervous fingers, not regretting helping Jimin, but breathing the heavy air of these days is not easy.

"Who do you think could have done it, my niece?" when your uncle whispers the question in your ear you stiffen.

"I don't have enough evidence to accuse anyone, Your Majesty, the only thing I can say is that it must have been a fool with no conscience," you reply in as firm a tone as possible, your uncle scrutinizing you from head to toe before nodding.

"Yeah, a fool..." he hisses shifting his gaze to his nobles, out of the corner of your eye you notice Harun looking at you from the front door with sadness.

She expected Jimin to take you away with him, and truthfully you had hoped for that at first too, but you can't force a person to love you, it's a good thing things turned out this way, you can finally stop chasing a ghost and wishing for something you will never have.

When that day's reunion ends, you can finally be free to wander around the castle, what you don't expect is to find the king in your safe place, your mother's private little garden.

"Sire..." you whisper strangely, the king never dared to enter there, everything about those lush plants and flowers carries the memory of your mother, a beautiful and sensitive woman, but also very strong. She did not shy away from her brother-in-law's sword when he pointed it at her chest.

"Y/N, you are doing a very good job here," he nods in the direction of the white lilies in the height of their bloom, you do nothing to approach the man, you have always discreetly driven away his presence, but it is one thing to leave his halls, another to leave a place you consider your own, this may make him too suspicious.

He, however, seems not to notice your lack of response, too busy studying the many plants in the small garden.

"Go ahead and sit down and read one of your books, nephew...I'm just here to find some peace...I confess, Park Jimin's escape troubles me," he casts you a little glance and you clear your throat.

"You are the king, he cannot harm you in here, Sire."

The man nods weakly, but still looks tense.

"Oh, I know I am the king, my dear niece, but the idea that a traitor could live within the walls of my castle does not let me sleep at night."

You grit your teeth.

His castle? The castle he forcibly wrested from you and your family?

This is another humiliation to which you cannot respond as you actually want to, you swallow the knot in your throat.

"Precisely why I'm so disappointed... in you" you squint, possible...  "Y/N, I kept you alive when I took the throne years ago, you were such a pretty and malleable child, but maybe not enough" he continues before shaking off the dark cloak and pulling out something that locks your breath in your lungs.

In his fist he clutches your necklace, the one that contained the poison and that you thought you had hidden in the sewn folds of your dress, you don't know what to say, so you try to pretend.

"Oh! You found it, I've been looking for it for days," you exclaim in the most surprised tone you can imitate, but the man doesn't seem to be playing along with you.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N, this necklace was found inside the cell where Park Jimin was locked up, I had heard rumors about your childish feelings for that outlaw, but to go that far? To go so far as to betray me? I spared your life, I never denied you and your title of princess! I raised you as if you were my own daughter!" he shouts, violently pulling off a wolfsbane root hidden among the lilies.

Something snaps inside you at his insinuations, an anger you've been hatching for years that has never found an outlet.

"Raised as a daughter? You killed my father and mother for a crown! You put power and wealth first, you deprived me of a family, you did the same to Jimin and claim to pass as a victim now! You are a vile monster!"

Your uncle is quick to draw the same sword with which he had remorselessly severed your father's head, he points it at your throat and it is so close that you feel the blade press against your skin enough to scratch it, you inhale deeply trying to block the fear that makes your heart gallop against your rib cage.

"I am the king, I don't allow a foolish girl to judge my actions, I realize I was wrong to spare you that night...but what should I do with you now? Should I kill you now or..." a mad light flashes in his eyes, "Of course... a condemned will be there, you will take the place of your beloved Jimin," he hisses in your face, a slow smile makes room on your cheeks contrary to what the man expected.

He expected you to burst into tears and fall to your knees begging him to spare you, but you will not, you will honor your mother's memory.

"You're just a coward," you whisper amused, at which the man's face turns red with fury.

"Guards! Guards!" he shouts at that point, six men enter by breaking through the glass door from which you enter to reach your mother's garden, shards of glass surround you along with the soldiers, you have no escape and so you merely chill the king with your gaze, "Lock her up in the highest and most isolated tower of the castle, I sentence the princess to death for helping the dangerous fugitive Park Jimin escape from my prisons!"

"Your day will come, too, Uncle," you hiss furiously, "And when you find him before your eyes, you will fall to your knees begging him to spare your life, but he will not be so merciful," you announce proudly, not needing to utter Jimin's name to alert your uncle, the way he suddenly whitens is already an answer for you, you keep smiling as an austere-looking man tugs you badly, forgetting that he has a princess on his hands, or maybe they don't care, it's the king who matters to them.

As you are thrown to the floor inside what will be your final chamber, darkness engulfs you once the door is closed.

You cough hard involuntarily inhaling the air thick with dust and dirt, your eyes burn and you do not know whether from tears or from the irritants in the room, the only thing you are sure of is that tomorrow your entire kingdom will know of your death sentence.

They will probably learn of that news with indifference, wondering why the king did not kill you earlier, along with the rest of your family.

You often ask yourself that too, if he had killed you then, you would have died basking in the thought that Jimin loved you and would remember you forever.

"Let's move, we need to refuel in town before we leave," says Seokjin starting to saddle his horse, Namjoon on the other hand is busy cataloging all their stuff to avoid losing anything after yet another move.

"Taehyung's not back yet?" complains Hoseok snortingly, picking up the "stupid guy's" bag, Jungkook shrugs in response.

They sent Taehyung to check the situation in town, moving in a group would have been dangerous; it's always better to check one at a time that the coast is clear.

"Strange, he should be here already," Jimin whispers as he squints, their momentary safe place in the heart of the forest is now almost completely clear, only Taehyung is missing.

"Maybe he's found something interesting," murmurs Yoongi crossing his arms and staring at an unspecified point toward the horizon, everyone staring at him in confusion before hearing Taehyung's voice.

"Jimin!" exclaimed Taehyung coming galloping in a breathless gallop, Hoseok cursing.

"I hope no one saw you running and screaming like that, you asshole," he growls, but Taehyung overtakes him with wide eyes and a paper clutched in his hand.

"Jimin, it's about the princess!" silence instantly replaces the protests of the others, Jimin stiffens as he stares guardedly at the paper Taehyung is clutching so desperately, "That fool of a king-" is interrupted by his friend who snatches the flyer from his hands to read it himself.

A boulder falls into his stomach and the ground is as if shaking beneath his feet, the king has sentenced you to death, you will end up hanging with a noose around your neck for helping him escape, he clutches the piece of paper tightly, shaking with fury.

You should not have helped him, you should not have risked your life for someone like him, when he thinks of how he treated you before you left he feels only immense shame.

"We should have kidnapped her when I proposed it," Jungkook sighs before saddling his horse as well.

"Saving her is the more appropriate term," Yoongi corrects him, adjusting his leather vest before turning to Jimin, "What do you want to do now?"

Jimin lets out a laugh full of malice, his adamantine eyes shining as he observes the king's seal in the communiqué.

"Are you still convinced that leaving her in that castle is the only way to keep her safe?" asks Namjoon sarcastically, Jimin shakes his head.

"In light of the new events, I would say no," he sighs reluctantly, handing the communiqué to Hoseok.

"The execution is in two days, we have to find a way to get into the castle and find her."

"He probably locked her up in the most isolated tower, he did the same with her mother before he killed her, it's as if he enjoys seeing them wallowing in fear," the blond man forcefully clutches a twig picked from the ground before snapping it in two, wishing he had the king's neck in his hands.

"Now with all those guards circling her it will be harder to kidnap a princess, but nothing is impossible for us," sneers Jungkook, but Jimin doesn't seem thrilled at the idea of having you back by his side, filling him with unease and remorse, reminding him of all the years he was absent and didn't really care how you might feel sitting side by side with the monster who killed your parents.

Someone squeezes his shoulder in comfort, it is Jin who is looking at him with a smile, "Hey, if you explain everything to her she will understand, from what you told me, she seems like a smart and intelligent girl."

Jimin grins slightly and nods.

"She is."

You look out the small tower window with tears in your eyes, you don't know how many hours you have been crying now, what your uncle did was deplorable and cruel.

You were allowed to sleep with your sweet old Harun beside you, you had to imagine that behind that concession was the cruel promise of a snake.

‘With the princess dead, there is no need for a wet nurse anymore’ is what the king said before ordering the guards to carry Harun away to the outside, exactly in the direction of your window, before they began to slaughter her amidst the screams of both of you, you shook the bars at the window of the hope of breaking them and reaching her, but it had all been in vain, Harun died almost immediately, she preferred not to withstand the blows to spare you the suffering of watching her fight like an animal for who knows how long.

Your throat burns as you sob, her body is still there, no one has gone to cover her, they are simply waiting for the ravens to arrive.

You slowly fall to your knees letting go of your grip on the bars, your hands are encrusted with blood and your nails are broken, you clutch your hands to your chest remembering your wet nurse who apologized to you the night before for encouraging you to free Jimin, repeating numerous times that she firmly believed you would run away together.

You feel guilty, perhaps if you had not requested Harun's presence, she would not have come into the king's sights, you find yourself wishing the hours would pass quickly, you do not want to be alone with your thoughts, they are too scary, death in comparison seems like a sweet promise.

Suddenly you hear the creak of the old door opening, for a moment - your despite yourself - you brighten up, believing you'll find Jimin ready to help you, but the dream soon shatters once again, it's not Jimin, it's one of the guards, and then you frown, what is he doing here? The king has expressly ordered that no one should speak to you again.

"What do you want, sir?" you ask with a strange feeling in your stomach, the guard sneers.

"A change of room, the king has ordered it," you stare at the open door, then back at the guard, it's a boy who looks familiar to you, he has black hair and droopy eyes.

You don't ask any further questions, you get up from the floor and shaking off the dust you let him grab you by the arm, though you grit your teeth in anger you dare not say anything, it's still better than having chains on your wrists and ankles.

He takes you outside urgently, you don't see the other guards and it makes you suspicious, you remember there were at least three outside the door, what is going on?

It is when you get to the fourth flight of stairs that you feel a violent grip on your shoulder before you are forced into a small, dark room, perhaps a closet used by the servants to store items, you scream with all your might, but the man's slimy mouth immediately covers yours, it is disgusting as you try to force his tongue between your lips and with a firm conk in your throat you bite it off with all your might.

This makes him flinch away with a yelp, it's dark and you can't see anything, you can only imagine him probing his tongue with his fingers to make sure it's still attached, you spit out his blood shuddering.

"You know..." he begins panting, "I've never been with a princess, I must say you are much better than servants," he laughs like a maniac returning again to his intent, trying to lift your dress skirts, but every time he tries to sneak his hand in, he always finds a kick to hit it badly.

With your heart engaged in a mad rush, you try to defend yourself as best you can, you've never been in a situation like this, but you won't let this happen, ever.

You desperately grope for something behind you, his wine-smelling breath twisting your guts and when he comes to lick your neck you manage to hold on to something cold and spiky, you don't even need to ask for forgiveness for what you are about to do, you don't even feel a hint of guilt as you start hitting him viciously wherever you can, with a snarl he tries to block your hands but you manage to knock him unconscious with one last blow.

You open the door to the small room to escape and the man's body collapses to the floor, you finally recognize him, he is the son of the guards' captain, and a rush of satisfaction fills your chest as you think back to what they did to Harun, then you suddenly realize you are free.

You don't know exactly where you're going to go, but you have a chance to escape and you're not going to miss a golden opportunity like that.

To enter the castle they used an old and dense series of underground tunnels leading to every corner of the palace, to be on the safe side Jimin chose the one that would lead them to the kitchens populated only by servants at certain times.

"Well, we're in," Hoseok snorts, shaking cobwebs from his clothes in disgust, "Now what?"

"We should split up and check every single tower, just in case," proposes Seokjin nabbing an apple from the basket in the large kitchen, Jimin looks around wistfully, brushing against the massive old wooden table he remembers all the afternoons spent with you stealing cookies with the complicity of Harun and the cook, with the old housekeeper always at your heels repeating to you to go back to the lessons with the riding teacher.

"Be careful, the castle is swarming with soldiers," the blond warns them before going on his way, refusing to take anyone else with him.

He moves through the shadows of the palace, making sure to avoid every corner illuminated by the light of the flashlights hanging on the walls of almost every corridor, his stride is light despite the leather boots he is wearing, he is getting closer and closer to the throne room and he shouldn't, he is there to save you, but... if he kills the king you will ascend to the throne.

He tries to calm his breathing, the idea of coming face to face again with the man responsible for his downfall is too much for him, it would be delightful to sever the head from his neck and proclaim a new ruler, one man's death would be enough to end both of their nightmares.

Before he can even really realize it, he has reached the vicinity of the throne room, hidden behind a secluded corner he watches the guards lurking at each corner of the door.

Opening his palm he slowly slides a dagger down his arm to his wrist, grasps the handle foretasting the moment when he will plunge the blade into the living flesh of the two soldiers in the king's service, one of them yawns sonorously and keeps his eyes almost completely closed, receiving a shove from the other.

"Hey, I'm going for a check-up, try not to fall asleep as usual, you boar," he growls before putting his hand on the sword hilt and walking away looking around.

Jimin sneers as he licks his lower lip, drops his cloak hood and calmly approaches the displeased man.

"Why do I always have to stay on guard?" he hears him mutter, "That prick really turns my-" the words stop in the middle of his throat while Jimin is cutting it, it is such a smooth movement his that it now seems remarkably natural.

The man doesn't resist, he moans in a hushed voice as he collapses to the ground accompanied by the blond man who doesn't mind the blood smeared on his cloak, the stench of alcohol the soldier exudes, he can swear he was too drunk to try to react in any other way, everything seems to be going in his favor and he can't help but bask in the pleasure of what is about to take place.

When he enters the great throne room, he cannot help but think of the time when he found himself kneeling before the king in a humiliating position, but that night everything will be reversed.

The young man remembers the walls finished in gold and silver, but the frescoes proclaiming King Cobra as the victor are new, depicting hunting scenes and valiant battles to feed the man's narcissistic side, but they are all lies, Jimin knows and so does Cobra himself.

The king's back is turned and he is holding his hands behind his back, he is carefully watching something from the high windows of the throne room, perhaps he does not sense the presence creeping behind him or simply ignores it, the fact is that when Jimin points his sword at his back, the man does not move an inch, he remains ice cold.

"I knew you would come back for her, Jimin," there is an amused note in his voice, Jimin thins his gaze.

"For her? I came back to kill you," the boy growls, pressing the gleaming blade harder.

"Um..." the man brings a hand to his face to smooth his long beard, "So you don't care about Y/N or what might happen to her at this very moment."

A trace of insecurity quickly passes through Jimin's icy eyes, he grits his teeth before uttering the words he would not want left his lips, "Exactly, I'm just here to settle a score."

"Oh, well ... then, before you settle this unfinished score, why don't you enjoy the show with me?" the sardonic question awakens Jimin's sixth sense, as he lifts his gaze over the king's shoulder and toward the stained glass windows, just outside the garden that would later lead inside the bramble forest.

Immediately he feels the blood freeze in his veins, he rolls his eyes and tries to keep his calm demeanor, but inside he is dying.

You are there.

You're running toward the forest with a soldier behind you gaining more and more ground, you're too tired and petite to outrun him, you won't make it.

"So what? Will you take my life and satisfy your revenge or will you run to save the princess in danger?" chuckles Cobra, Jimin hisses strengthening his grip and tearing at the king's gaudy robes with the tip of his blade, he knows what he has to do, the answer is so obvious, but letting go of such a being is unthinkable for him, unbearable.

With a snarl he pushes the king away, who rolls badly to the ground, and before he can even comprehend what has just happened, Jimin puts his sword to his throat, the blade shining under the dim light of the candles and longing for the young man to go forward, to pierce the flesh of that worm and sever his head from the rest of his body, but all that does not happen.

Jimin's eyes are now as dark as darkness, he uncovers his teeth like a snarling wolf, "I will return, Your Majesty... and when you see me again, you will pray for God to save you, for I will have no mercy on your dark soul," he hisses, hurling a slash toward the king, then heading quickly and in a blind fury toward the exit of the hall.

Cobra with wide eyes grazes his own face, slowly a wound opens under his left eye and blood stains his hands.

You hiss in pain with every thorn that sticks in your legs, your dress is torn in several places and you try to catch your breath as you pray that the soldier will not find you.

You have ended up in the bramble forest so feared in your kingdom and every movement of the wild plants that inhabit it makes you tremble with terror, everything is dark and cold, you can only hear the cry of the owls that watch your silent struggle mocking you.

You manage to crawl painfully behind a large and imposing tree, lift your skirt and observe the pitiful condition of your legs, bite your lower lip with tears in your eyes, your skin is full of scratches and blood, but you can still run.

You try to pick yourself up, but noises of broken branches block your every movement, you stand with bated breath as someone wanders through the trees.

"Come here, little flower... let's go back to your room," you hear him humming with amusement, "I don't know how you got out, but you won't be punished, you're still a princess after all."

You tremble with cold and fear, it is obvious that the man is not telling the truth, you have seen your uncle's men act before and you know they know no kindness or mercy.

"Our sweet..." you frown as you follow the man's footsteps with your ears, you can't make out which direction he is coming from, "Princess..." you see something moving quickly out of the corner of your eye to your right, you spontaneously throw yourself to the left to avoid it, believing it to be the guard, but to your horror you realize it is a small fox, "... Y/N! " you scream with all your might when hands yank you away, you manage to free yourself only because the man's grip is weak, at which point you run away again.

"Run, princess, run! I'll find you again anyway!" he laughs excitedly at the idea of hunting after months locked in the castle protecting the king's life.

You are tired, your eyesight is getting more and more fatigued, you just want everything to be over as soon as possible. You don't even know where you might go in case you escape the man, you will always be hunted down by the king and his array of soldiers, the idea of giving up everything and accepting the end you will make crosses your mind, even if it means saying goodbye to Jimin for good.

Bramble bushes once again block your way, they stick to your skin and dress, they seem to be on the side of your assailant, you can no longer escape, it's over.

"Gotcha, princess" you feel his heavy breath on your neck, his arms grip you tightly before he lifts you up by weight and throws you into the shaggy, dry grass, "Look at you... actually you don't look like a princess anymore, you look like a dirty peasant girl" he chuckles, kneeling down in front of you, he touches your hair and you glower at him.

"Don't touch me, you dirty mangy dog" you growl, slapping his hand, the man's expression changes, it is no longer cheerful, now he looks resentful.

"You have such peasant language, your mother didn't live long enough to teach you manners, but I'll teach you a good lesson," he says before lifting a hand, ready to slap you in the face.

As your wide eyes stare at the man's heavy hand, your ears feel something move across the grass and stomp on it, then the sound of a slash lashing the air and suddenly you are free, the man falls to the side holding his neck but desperately reaching for the dagger hidden in his leather belt amid curses and expletives.

"Jimin..." you whisper as you see a golden flash in the darkness of the forest, the shadow falls hard on your assailant and you find yourself forcefully closing your eyes to avoid looking at that gruesome spectacle, you listen in disgust to the intense barks of the dying man.

Then everything falls silent.

You feel Jimin's presence approaching your huddled figure on the ground and you don't know how to act.

He has certainly saved your life, but he has just killed a man and you are the granddaughter of the king who took everything away from him; he is no longer the Jimin of when you were an innocent child.

"Are you all right?" he kneels at your side with a certain formality and coldness in his tone of voice, as if trying to keep his distance, hurting you.

You slowly rise up avoiding looking him in the eye, "I'm alive, so yeah... I'm fine," you whisper dimly, hissing when you try to stand up and your legs resume burning painfully, you clench your flayed fingers into small fists and when he notices them he cannot forbid himself a barely concealed dry breath.

"One moment, let me see," he offers, already grabbing a flap of your torn dress, instantly freezing when he meets your eyes wide with embarrassment.

What he was about to do is disgraceful as well as incredibly intimate.

"It's nothing, I can still walk... can you help me reach the village? I might find someone willing to let me board by ship," you ask gritting your teeth, the forest finally gains some light and you can make out the young man's surprised expression.

Your gaze falls on his black robes, although it is not very clear you understand that the darker stains correspond to the blood of the man he has just killed and to whom you dare not even cast a glance, you swallow wondering why apart from your disgust at the blood, it does not bother you at all.

"I am here to save you, princess," he murmurs decisively, "Going to the village is not safe, you can only trust me," at his words you tighten your lips into a tight line.

"If you really want to save me, then stop talking to me in that tone, we grew up together as friends, stop pulling away from me" you whisper sadly, the boy shows a flash of displeasure as your words sink into his heart, behind him several men on their horses begin to approach, one of whom is unridden.

"Jimin, more guards are coming!" exclaims a boy with hair as dark as a raven's feathers and tenacious eyes, and tossing him the reins of the riderless horse, the animal is magnificent, its coat as white as milk and its mane shining like the most precious gold.

Orobel.

With tears in your eyes you recognize the foal your father gave Jimin for his 12th birthday. He is much bigger and more majestic now, a force of nature in every way.

"You must come with us if you want to save your life, princess," says another, his shoulders broad and posture proud, he looks like the leader of the group, a large bow protrudes from his back.

You send down a knot in your throat when Jimin extends a hand toward you encouragingly, "We must go, don't be afraid of them, they are my trusted comrades, Y/N."

Your name uttered by his sweet lips shakes you to the core, he may not be aware of the effect he still has on you and you want to cry like a little girl when he helps you up from the muddy ground and hoist you onto Orobel, if he somehow notices your glazed eyes, he says nothing, probably blaming the wounds on your legs.

You really wish it were that way.

Jimin is chopping wood with an axe, he is shirtless and you watch from a distance, sitting on the grass and wrapped in a clean, heavy cloak, it is the only thing the boys have found suitable for you to protect you from the evening wind.

You notice a few drops of sweat sliding down his neck and then down to his muscular chest as he flexes his arms to strike yet another wooden stump, you swallow with a slight blush dusted on your cheeks, you didn't remember his physique being so grown up, it's all new to you as well as incredibly embarrassing.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Yoongi picking some herbs not far from you, it makes you feel uncomfortable to have to live with so many men; when your uncle took you into custody, he didn't allow any boys to get close to you, he wanted to keep you pure for his plans. Thinking back to the man who didn't think twice about sentencing you to death paralyzes you. You have to hold on until you find your own place to stay, you doubt that Jimin will ever want you by his side; therefore, you have to think personally about your future, even if it is painful to think about.

Being with them, you get a little insight into everyone's roles within the group.

Seokjin is certainly the leader as well as an experienced archer. You have observed him several times taking aim and hitting his intended target accurately, plus he has an aura around him that inspires confidence and trust. On the other hand, Taehyung looks a bit like the jester of the situation, but you have seen him wielding daggers to catch various animals and never wished to take their place, it is clear that behind that sunny smile he hides a soul as dark as the others.

Namjoon would rather observe and devise traps than take part in an actual confrontation, but it is clear that he would never back down in the face of a real threat, just as Yoongi, who plays the role of doctor in the group, helped you bandage your fingers and legs when you arrived at their camp and was incredibly quiet, not that you felt like talking still upset after the events of the night.

Then there are Hoseok and Jungkook, both of whom are the hunters, their job is to find and kill all possible threats in the surroundings, lest their lair be found and besieged by the king's men.

Also, you found out that Jimin is a master of swords.

He masters his steel blade so lightly and sinuously that it seems to dance when he moves and lashes the air.

You are in the midst of wolves, but it doesn't scare you too much, you know they won't hurt you, or so you assume after those five days spent in their company.

You feel a figure stop behind you, you raise your head and have to squint to avoid being blinded by the sun's rays, slowly you make out the form of Yoongi who bends respectfully at your height. His feline-cut eyes seem to invite you to listen to him.

"I can see you are tired, princess, and I know you haven't slept well since you've been here," he begins with a thoughtful look, "Taehyung has managed to find suitable clothes for you and there is a safe lake nearby, I invite you to freshen up and put on something clean before resting, you will surely feel better," he says with a small reassuring smile.

You frown, undecided about what to do, the idea of a bath tantalizes you almost overbearingly, but the embarrassment if one of them were to see you naked would be too much to bear, and Yoongi seems to understand that.

"The lake is far enough away from the camp, none of us here are planning to go to that area at the moment, it is completely safe and isolated, you need not fear anything," he hastens to specify, "I will just accompany you, I will be back here immediately."

"I... thank you, Yoongi" you smile gratefully, finally trusting the boy.

"I'll go get you those clothes, wait here for a moment," you nod, sighing slightly; you turn back to Jimin, but find to your disappointment that he has disappeared.

Yoongi leaves you by the lake, the path back to the camp is not difficult; so, you assure the man that you will have no trouble. He leaves you with a shadow of doubt etched on his face, but you pay no attention to it; you walk to the lakeshore and breathe in the air at the top of your lungs, enjoying the blue sky and the fluffy clouds that sail across it like ships.

When you finally reach the lake, you feed on the sight of the crystal-clear water, the temptation to undress is very strong, but tightening your lips into a line you look around suspiciously.

Stripping off completely would be too much, so you decide to stay in your petticoat, shivering at the breeze rattling the tree foliage, you hang your clothes from the branch of an old felled log nearby.

You turn toward the shore and treading over the small stones and grass you finally slowly begin to enter the water, sighing at the almost freezing temperature.

As the water reaches your belly you hear something emerge noisily from the lake, widening your eyes you find yourself screaming and covering your chest as best you can, wordlessly you see Jimin with his eyes closed bringing back his blond, golden-strand-like hair, the movement is magnetic, and you are practically naked. No, both of you are naked.

You flinch down with the water now up to your chin and your heart in your throat, peering warily at the boy who notices you only at that moment and stares at you wordlessly at first, you notice his jaw snap rigidly and his clear eyes darken, before turning away.

"I'm done, I'm leaving right now," he says raising his voice slightly to be heard, "I just needed to get the sweat off of me," he looks uncomfortable as he tries hard not to let his eyes slide to you.

A squeeze in your stomach is all you get from his words.

"Jimin..." you call out to him as he begins to swim toward the shore, the bitter feeling like gall at seeing him move further and further away from you once again has become unbearable, "So that's it? You don't want me?" his bare shoulders tremble slightly, and you don't know whether from the cold of the water or from your words.

You don't really expect to see him coming back toward you, but that's exactly what he does by moving at an extraordinary speed, he almost looks like a water creature, then he is in front of you in his full height, water droplets glide along his perfect skin and you swallow trying not to look at his bare chest or even lower, suddenly feeling like a little girl under the icy depths of his eyes.

"You're going to get sick, Y/N... Look, your lips are already purple," he whispers, brushing your lower lip with his thumb, stroking it gently, and you feel yourself suddenly go on fire.

"Can't you just answer me to end this suffering?" you beg him with moist eyes, Jimin sighs before shaking his head, reaching up to brush your hair.

"I am not suitable for you, Y/N," he mutters it almost angrily, wishing to put an end to this.

"Or am I not suitable for you, maybe that's what you think" you smile sadly and bitterly, "I'm sorry to still be a bother to you."

"You are not a bother" he almost growls those words and you sigh shaking your head.

"Then I will be soon, you will meet a beautiful woman, marry her and have your own family, that same woman will then wonder when I will disappear from your life forever and at that point there will be no place for me even in your memories," you say shakily, "That is, if there are still memories of me in your heart."

You follow the movement of his neck as he tilts to let his eyes peer deep into your soul, his serious, thoughtful expression leaving you interjected.

He doesn't seem to want to deny but not even admit your words; it's as if he, too, is as confused as you are.

His gaze moves further down, there where your thin robe has stuck to your body because of the water, you realize with shame that it has become transparent and revealing, but you decide not to cover yourself.

You want him to look at you, to see that you are no longer a child, that you have grown up and that your body is that of a girl in her prime.

"My real problem, Y/N ... is that I'm sure I've met that woman before, but I don't feel worthy to be around her, not when I abandoned her in a castle to pursue my revenge," he whispers, the sky-blue color of his eyes seems to become more watery, "I can't forgive myself for putting her on the back burner, that's the truth," you hear the pain in his voice, the one that was missing that night in the cell when you freed him.

The need to hug him and hold him to you suddenly becomes more suffocating, with a sob you throw yourself into his arms and this time he doesn't stay stiff as marble, his arms wrap around you like a silk blanket and you find refuge in his chest.

His skin is warm against your cheek and it's a feeling you didn't think you would experience again, the boy sinks his face into your hair and leaves a kiss on your temple, before brushing the tip of his nose against you and smiling softly.

"There will never be a woman who will make me forget you," despite his words, you feel sad, still incomplete.

You sigh against his neck and close your eyes, you have gotten used to the temperature of the water and its warmth helps to relax you.

"But there will be a woman who will take you away from me" you point out in a colorless voice, when he doesn't respond you decide to loosen your sudden embrace, "I'm tired of waiting for you, Jimin" you let go of the ripples in the water, swimming back to the shore without taking your eyes off the boy who still seems to be in doubt, then a small, amused smile stretches across your face, "I'll have to find a real man who knows what it means to love a woman," you taunt him, reaching down to a shallow spot in the lake bottom, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You begin to lower the straps of your now useless robe, abandoning all symptoms of shame, you want him to react or get angry in some way, you want a reaction from him and you get it, "Maybe Yoongi? I have to admit, he's very charming and he certainly knows what he wants, he could give me-" before you can even finish speaking, Jimin pulls you toward him grabbing you by the wrist, you only have time to make a surprised sound before his lips manage to cover yours in an impetuous, possession-filled kiss.

You hear your heart beating at a rapid pace in your ears, you did not expect your second kiss to happen this way, he seems exasperated as he presses himself against your mouth for more direct and intimate contact, you open your mouth slightly when his tongue dabs roughly on your lower lip.

It is a man who is kissing you, no longer the kid of your memories, and he seems more than willing to let you know it when one of his hands comes down to tenderly squeeze your throbbing neck, he smiles against your lips when he realizes that your heart seems to want to leave your chest and he separates himself from you with one last caress of his softest petals.

"I haven't even kissed you properly and your heart is already exploding," he chuckles with a spark of mischief in his clear eyes, "And who would you like to give such purity to, Yoongi?" he shakes his head hissing those words like an angry snake ready to attack.

You clench the hand that is still wrapped around your neck and strengthen his grip, wishing that the feel of his fingers on your skin would stay with you, "I've always wanted it to be yours, Jimin," you say softly, tilting your head at the slow descent of his hand.

"I'm very different from the nobles you grew up with, Y/N.... Don't expect me to catch you with a petticoat on," he continues by caressing a thin strap, lifting the fabric just a little, "Or for me to look away while you undress," he leans down to kiss the corner of your lips, reaches down to your chin and continues along the entire line of your neck, as water you adapt to the touch of him until he reaches your breast, your nipples turgid from the temperature of the water and his attentions are raised against the transparent fabric, the man can practically see their shape and color, he cups one breast as he pushes his head against your chest, kissing the soft, tantalizing flesh.

He adores you with his mouth and your sighs make him feel like a lion in a cage, his golden hair captures the last light of dawn as he pushes you against the shore and gets between your legs, studding you with kisses and caresses, returns to your mouth and finally with his tongue captures yours, inviting you to follow him.

You encircle his neck with your arms, trembling with excitement at the way he lets you touch him and the way he touches you, takes you by the hips and holds you against his massive, secure body.

"Jimin" you whisper in his ear as you feel something heavy and stiff against your inviolate intimacy, he mumbles something unintelligible, he seems lost in his bubble continuing to lick and kiss your neck, you tremble feeling incredibly hot, an unknown force urges you to rock against him and cling to his back with your fingernails, groaning suddenly.

This seems to awaken him and the spell is broken.

He flinches away, staring at you with agitation, in his gaze remorse is the one thing you don't want to read, but it's there.

"You need to get dressed," he warns you dangerously and with difficulty before pulling away from you completely, hurting you.

"H-Have I done something I shouldn't have done?" you ask bewildered, still with chills in your body from what his hands were capable of doing to you, this version of Jimin completely opposite from the boy who was kissing you only seconds ago is like a punch to the stomach.

"I said get dressed, Y/N! " he abruptly blurts out, "And stay away from Yoongi, I don't want to see you flirting with him, you're not a village woman," he runs a hand through his damp hair nervously, before stepping out of the water without caring about his nakedness, you turn your head away from him, the feeling of shame has returned to invade your limbs, and with a stone in your heart you bring your arms to your chest, stepping out of the water and groping for the dry clothes that Taehyung and Yoongi kindly gave you.

You don't see Jimin move away from you, clenching his fists and hitting the trunk of a tree until his knuckles are mangled, finding himself staring at the blood rushing to the grass with resentment, trying hard to forget your mouth begging his to be taken or the softness of your body that has enslaved him at an embarrassing speed.

You are worse than a circle of hell for him.

When you return to camp with your face pulled into an indecipherable expression, the boys study you in confusion noting also the strange attitude of Jimin who walks a few steps ahead of you.

The two of you seem farther apart than before and this certainly does not go unnoticed by the others, Yoongi tightens his lips as he reaches for the blond man who is walking back into the forest in search of more wood.

"Hey!" he exclaims behind his friend, "What happened at the lake?" he asks, Jimin snaps an eyebrow up.

"So you knew I was there?" he curls his upper lip over his teeth appearing menacing, but Yoongi's hard gaze doesn't lower.

"She's crazy about you, so it's clear that the fight stemmed from you, am I right?"

This simply rattles the blond more, "I didn't do anything at all, don't play cupid, man, because it won't stick with me."

"Or maybe it was a one-way conversation and you didn't even give her a chance to talk, you're such an asshole! She doesn't deserve a bastard like you, a guy who doesn't grab a chance like that when he has it at his fingertips," Yoongi blurts out, starting to turn back, but those words turn on a red flag in the younger boy who grabs the older one by the leather vest.

"And what would you like to do, Yoongi? Seize the opportunity yourself? I've seen how you watch her pretend to gather herbs for your infusions," at which point Yoongi chuckles wryly, his black eyes twinkling.

"I won't lie, I like her. But I also know to whom her heart belongs, and as a doctor I can well say that if you continue to keep her on the edge like you're doing now, that heart will get sick," he sighs, flinching, "Don't make me punch you, Jimin... you're no fool."

"I'm a criminal and she's a princess," he says without emotion on his handsome face, Yoongi snorts as he rolls his eyes.

"You are her hero, the crown wants her dead and you saved her, now she's a woman like any other and nothing forbids you to be with her," clarifies the older man with a raised eyebrow, as he walks away Jimin remains frozen in place.

‘She's a woman like any other.’

No, you are not like all the others, you are his princess and will remain so forever, which is precisely why he cannot allow another man to lay his hands on you.

Abandoning himself against the bark of an old tree he wonders if being with you would be worth it as a form of protection, he would never hurt you and would ensure you protection for life, the very idea of giving you his love has always terrified him, anyone who ever loved him is dead and he wouldn't want anything horrible to happen to you because of him, but now things have changed, you need him and he... needs you.

He finds you sitting in front of the fire, you're focused on the crackling flames, and if you notice his presence, you don't show it at all, you pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

Your thoughtful, melancholy expression suggests to him that you are still remembering the events of a few hours ago, recognizing that he was a real jerk for the way he treated you earlier, kissing you like a lover and then rejecting you like a cheap whore. He still feels ashamed and makes sure that each of his friends is asleep in their own tent before sitting silently next to you.

He hears you wince a little and out of the corner of his eye notices you turn your head away, refusing to acknowledge his presence. He smiles slightly, even as a child when you were offended by something you would puff up your cheeks and turn your head to the side, just as you are doing now.

Yes, you are still his lovely princess.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, moving a few millimeters closer to you, "I shouldn't have spoken to you and I especially shouldn't have touched you like that."

You frown in annoyance, snorting slightly through your nose.

"I don't object to the way you touched me, but you should keep quiet a little more," you mutter venomously, "You have the hands of an angel, but the tongue of a devil," you say casting a glance at his hands, you see the wounds and your heart sinks, you want to kiss them and curse that thought.

Those words trigger two completely different reactions in Jimin, on the one hand they help make him feel guilty, on the other he finds himself smiling internally, because you really don't know how devilish his tongue can be, if used in the right way.

"And you a mermaid's lips," he says taking your chin between two fingers, staring at you with such intensity that you feel naked.

He mirrors himself in your glossy irises and sighs, "Forgive me, after so many years of believing I'm not right for you, I forgot the most important thing."

"The most important thing?"

"Yes, you."

You gasp in surprise, registering his words only after a few moments of unbearable silence.

"You're saying that..."

"I am saying that I want to stay by your side, to be your protector and also your lover, if you will still allow me to be, Y/N."

His irises as clear as the waters of the lake gently brush against you, you feel your eyes tingling, and before he can see the tears streaming down your face you rush toward him, embracing him as if your life depended on it.

In a way it does, because without Jimin, your last piece of happiness that endures from childhood and which you have finally found again, you would have wandered in the void of loneliness for who knows how long.

You think back to your parents, to Harun, to all that you have lost and come to the conclusion that you were not yet ready to lose Jimin too, but he is here. You smile, pulling up with your nose before resting your lips on the boy's soft ones, who more than willingly accepts to surrender himself in your arms that are as small as they are warm and that scream familiarity.

"So you haven't forgotten me," you whisper, pulling away slightly, the blond shakes his head, snorting.

"Never, I tried to protect you by keeping you away from me, the king wants me dangling on a rope ... or at least it was until you made the mistake of saving me" he utters the last words with a note of reproach in his voice, staring at you sternly for the way you put yourself in danger.

But you don't lower your gaze, you won't feel guilty for saving the man you love.

"Now the two of us are here, together, do you want to blame me so much?" you murmur softly and his heart melts like snow in the sun.

He shakes his head, no, he cannot blame you. He, too, for love has made foolish and terrible decisions, and he will not let go of the chance to make up for all the pain he has caused you.

"I could never," he hisses almost painfully, closing his eyes as your fingers graze his hair and his lips reach for you, snapping another kiss.

You let him embrace you and he hold the back of your neck with one hand as he tries to deepen your contact, making it more intimate and slower than the more feverish kisses the two of you exchanged at the lake.

Your heart vibrates like the wings of a hummingbird, happy to give yourself in that way to the one man you have always loved and whom you know for certain you will love all your life. You would never have agreed to an arranged marriage; you hoped with all your heart that your uncle would never find a suitable suitor for you, and fortunately it did.

A commotion from one of the seven tents surprises you both suddenly, you separate slightly and cast a glance toward Namjoon's tent.

"He must have dropped one of his swords," Jimin mutters irritably, you, on the other hand, are traveling with your imagination, imagining sharing the tent with Jimin for the first time and blushing, since you were rescued the boys have taken turns to stand guard and let you have their little station, although strangely enough Jimin's guard duty was lasting for too many days, and as a result you have always used his bed made of furs and straw. Not quite like the one in your room at the palace, but by now you were well used to it,  considering the tower where your uncle locked you up.

"Come with me," he offers you his hand and you stare at it for a few moments, before extending yours and linking your fingers in a secure grip, "I know a place a little more... peaceful" the word slips between his teeth persuasively, you don't know what will happen tonight, but if he asked you to throw yourself off a mountain, you would do it as long as he stayed by your side at all times.

"Is it far?" you ask raising your skirt slightly, trying not to trip over tree roots and stones.

The blond looks ahead without letting go of your hand, "Just a little bit" he turns to you with his laughing eyes and you are enchanted at their color, he is lighter and more affectionate, he almost looks like that child Jimin you have missed so much.

You walk just enough to reach the thick, lumpy roots of a large tree, its branches entirely covering the night sky that until moments before was towering over you with its stars.

"Jimin... is ..." you try to say, but there is really no doubt.

The man nods.

"We are inside the lovers' forest, Y/N... this is the tree where according to legend their marriage was celebrated."

You look around, almost hoping to see the blooming arch where the first king and queen of your kingdom were married, eventually giving birth to your dynasty, but you see none of it, disappointed to realize that it is just a clearing of grass and flowers that seems to bow its head to the great tree that towers above it all.

"That's not how the stories described the place," you mumble slightly, your mother and Harun's stories spoke of magical creatures as spectators, flowers of every color and every shade decorating the lawn and the guests' walnut chairs, not to mention precisely the large archway on which roses and climbing plants had grown in honor of the two newlyweds.

You hear Jimin chuckle behind you, his hands encircle your hips and your back rests against his chest, you feel his warm breath on your neck, and goose bumps cause you to shiver.

"I never believed those stories and you know it," he says in a clear, amused tone, "But as I grew older I realized that something really happened here," he whispers in your ear.

With an elegant hand he lifts your chin slightly, bringing your gaze to the trunk of the large tree, you sharpen your vision and finally notice them.

"Runes?"

"Runes," the boy confirms, "This is the Lignum Vitae, the tree of life according to the legends, little princess," he chuckles as he turns away, his leather boots hardly audible among the uncultivated grass and damp earth.

"You don't believe that either?" you snort with a smile, you know you've always been the one to believe in everything your country's legends have handed down, but you would expect some cooperation from him, after all, he was the one who brought you here.

"I don't believe in magic, but I believe that lovers gathered here to bring offspring into the world, relying precisely on this tree," he explains with a shrug.

In fact, talking about a marriage in the stories was much easier if you wanted to tell something about the origin of the royal family to innocent children.

"They succeeded, didn't they? Look at me!" you laugh, pointing with a little bow, and Jimin does, looking at you with an affection and love that until morning he jealously kept to himself.

He walks to the tree and touches the runic symbols gently, in his mind an idea takes an increasingly clear and tantalizing shape.

"If magic really existed and we strengthened our ties to the tree, would everything fall back into place?" he wonders softly with furrowed brows, not wincing when you hug him from behind, as if expecting your closeness.

"We cannot get back what was taken from us, Jimin... even magic is useless in the face of death," your hands are intertwined over his heart, you feel it beating hard and fast, like a free and powerful horse.

"Life is what interests me," he admits, turning toward you.

He takes a few steps forward and you are forced to take as many steps backward, you don't see one of the raised roots of the tree and fall back with a little yelp, Jimin is quick to catch you before you can hit your head, and you both square off with wide-eyed stares.

"If I asked you to give me the gift of a child, here and now, what would your answer be?" he asks seriously.

You don't think about it for a single moment.

"I would answer that it is one of the desires that bind me to you, Jimin."

Another kiss comes, followed by another and another, his mouth demanding yours with such need that it seems almost savage, as if he wants to feed on you after all the years spent lusting after you in the shadows, fleeing like a wanted man of the worst kind.

He accompanies you on the damp grass and reacquaints himself with your neck, using the softness of his rosy lips to tease your tender skin, with the tips of his pearly teeth biting it lightly, and this causes an outcropping of dark, purple stains along the column of your throat, amused at imagining how others might react the next day once they set their gaze on you.

You don't even care, his attentions are a novelty, you welcome his mouth and tongue on your body as a blessing, you wouldn't turn him away from you for anything in the world, let them accuse you of being a prostitute, you and Jimin know the truth, which is that your body and soul have always belonged to the blond and no one has ever touched you as he is doing.

When he gets to the modest bodice of your dress you do something that must be strange to him, or at least you sense this from his gaze when you lift your skirt and stand helpless in his hands, like one of the wooden logs he cuts daily.

"What are you doing?" he asks with a furrowed brow.

Agitation clouds your cheeks, what's wrong?

"You said you want a baby," you say almost shyly, perhaps you misunderstood? But no, he had made it clear earlier....

"I did say that, but I don't understand why you just lifted up your skirt without responding to my caresses and now you stand still" his doubtful expression embarrasses you, that's how educators told you to do it, "Forgive me, my request was too bold."

"No!" you immediately exclaim, "I want to, only I was told to do it this way."

You see his nostrils flare to snort with irritation.

"Right...you've been locked in a castle full of soulless puppets" he shakes his head, "But that's not how I want to take you, Y/N, I prefer you receptive" he whispers persuasively, "Just like today at the lake" he continues, stroking the bare skin of your legs, pushing into your soft inner thighs, you feel your belly tighten heatedly.

"Let's leave certain unnecessary distances to those old nobles," he goes on, kissing you behind your ear, a tremor shakes you when his lips wrap around your earlobe, licking it with the tip of his tongue, "Take off your bodice, love, show me what a good girl you are, hmm?"

You nod without a drop of saliva in your mouth, Jimin's tongue hisses like a snake and you are drawn to his drawling words, you are his forbidden fruit and he can't wait to bite you and find out how sweet you can be and how deliciously you can bleed.

Each button that leaves a buttonhole is a soft kiss from him over the light blouse that still holds your breasts, mentally moaning the blond curses himself for not enjoying your eager body sooner and perfect for his fingers.

He would like to tear off your clothes instantly, but he restrains himself, how would you return to others without instigating some desire in them?. No, he is gentle when even the last garment leaves you and he can finally quiver at the sight of your naked body shivering under the icy night air, or perhaps it is his eyes that make you tremble?

He lifts himself off your body and tosses his tunic to the side, your eyes drink in the sight of his hard chest and the slight hair that descends to his private parts, which you did not see that morning, but you distinctly felt on your warm intimacy, and the air escapes your lungs when you notice something that in the sunlight has strangely escaped you, perhaps because you have tried not to stare at him too much, his chest is studded with small, shiny white lines, they are thin and almost intangible, but they are there.

You brush those lines with a tentative finger, feeling the reliefs with a question mark in mind, and in doing so his skin twitches, "What are these?" you ask gently, Jimin gives a small smile and kisses the knuckles of your hand.

"Every day spent without you," he pronounces solemnly, the wind rattles the leaves of the large tree and for a few moments it is as if you feel it voice whispering over the blond man's words. You chase away the feeling and embrace the boy once more with a tear running down your cheek. You were a fool to believe that he had abandoned you when all he had done was think about you.

You have a feeling that the air is warmer now that his head is buried in the hollow of your breasts, his moist tongue playing with the tip of a nipple initially causing a strange tickle in the center of your chest before a glowing sensation slips between your legs, making you blaze with desire, it's all more direct without your petticoat and you love every second of it.

You bite your lower lip, holding back a moan louder than your sighs, you don't want it to go away again, but it's stronger than you when the delicious sting of a bite makes your thighs tremble around his bare hips, you feel the length of his cock twitch against your skin, it's heavy and it arouses you to know that you have that effect on him, at that thought the wetness descends between your thighs against your will and you try to hide, but Jimin can read a woman's body and you are still too inexperienced to go unnoticed by a hunter like him.

"It's normal" he breathes on your lips imparting another deep kiss, "It means you like it" the tip of his nose rubs against yours trying to soothe you, your eyes fly to his cock when he lifts a little to settle himself better and all the blood rushes to your head, you don't know whether from the shame of seeing a naked man or from the incredible wave of pleasure that washes over you at noticing how thick and needy he looks, there is white liquid at the tip, dripping thickly down his veiny length that seems to contract under your curious and hungry eyes.

Then a thought alarms you, "Does it all have to go in there?" you point to your intimacy, though you don't know for sure, your educators had been vague and you never touched yourself, sometimes you felt the need as you imagined what an adult Jimin might look like, but you never dared to break the imposed rules.

A princess does not do such things as a street woman.

Yet, that's exactly where Jimin caresses you, his fingers dance over your moist folds with mastery and you block the instinct to close your legs, as you might when with his thumb he rolls over a spot that gives you particularly intense and wonderful sensations, "Jimin!" you grab his wrist trying to slow down his devilish circles, but your pelvis continues to chase pleasure against your will, you throw your head back and Jimin kisses the line of your jaw as if it is impossible for him to stop kissing you in any way.

"This is called the clit, love," you hear him smile, "And this is where I'm going to go all in...my cock will go into your sweet little pussy, Y/N," he hums moving his fingers to your needy slit, entering lightly with his light fingertips, you gasp at his sudden dirty language but find that you like it, it makes you feel desired.

You feel his fingers move inside you as his thumb continues to caress your clit, your lower abdomen trembles and stutters in despair with each jolt of pleasure, your teary eyes are lost in the immensity of the tree that seems to silently observe what is happening.

Jimin never goes beyond the elastic barrier he senses beyond your entrance, he merely teases you within inches of your entrance and it is amazing how liquid and copious your pleasure flows past his wrist until it drips onto the grass. His instincts are stronger than he is, he must have a taste of your sweetness and you abruptly hold your breath when his tongue catches another wave of your honeyed essence, you are devastating to his taste buds and he wants more, you find yourself crying and contracting your hips as you try to escape his mouth, he devours you by insisting on your scarlet pearl and when more drops of pleasure come he runs to lick them away from your slit, he seems to be going crazy or maybe he is.

"Stop, Jimin... Stop-oh!" you stiffen instantly when a firmer lick shakes your body and makes you explode in such pleasure that you squint and cry.

"Ssssh, princess" you feel Jimin's lips gathering your tears before placing a kiss at the corner of your stammering mouth; his lips are wet and glossy; he is the embodiment of sin.

He is still breathing down your neck as the thickness of his cock begins to furrow your folds to gather as much moisture as possible, the thick, shiny tip of his cock swirls around your slit and you reflexively contract your pussy muscles, it is almost funny how despite the pleasure that has shocked you, your pussy still tries to invite him inside her.

"It's going to hurt, my love" he warns you with a sharp breath, you nod immediately, this part has been repeated to you many times by those women whose job it was to instruct you in your duties as a wife, though none of them had ever told you that you could experience such pleasure that you would be left gasping for breath.

"I know," you smile, but Jimin seems a little anxious.

"It will be short-lived, I'll be gentle and-" you caress his face affectionately, you know that too, he would never intentionally hurt you.

"And I will have your baby," your heart warms every time you think about it, a baby with the same cheeks and eyes as Jimin? You would love him infinitely, Jimin melts into a real smile.

"Ours."

He intertwines a hand with yours as he prepares to enter and the next thrust makes your eyes widen, he is incredibly slow and gentle, but you have never had anything inside you before and you feel all too clearly his length piercing and widening your inner walls at his will, Jimin is breathing shallowly with sweat beading on his forehead in an attempt to keep calm, you hold him deliciously and you are extraordinarily beautiful as you stare at him with your eyes lost and your lips half-closed and swollen from his kisses.

"I-It doesn't hurt, don't worry, my love," you manage to murmur with a smile, that's right, it doesn't hurt.

It's just a strange sensation, the stretch stings and tingles, but it's nothing unbearable or terrible as you've been led to believe all your life.

Or maybe Jimin is a very good lover, whispers a little voice in your head.

Even so, you feel something warm dripping from your slit after a more direct lunge, running down one of your thighs and ending up on the damp grass; it is your blood, but you pay no attention to it, just as you pay no attention to the quick absorption of the earth near the tree roots.

The blond man nods, but he reaches down again to take a nipple in your mouth, massaging your breast as if he expects milk to come out of it already, your clitoris twitching pleasantly and his cock sliding more sinuously, now you can feel it tapping deeper and deeper, you can almost feel it in your belly and you accompany his thrusts by moving against him, you cling to his back with your fingernails, you hear him moan loudly and that sound excites you, you wonder if...

Before you even think, your hand slides over his chest and you rotate your thumb around one of his smaller, darker nipples, he stiffens with a hoarse sound in his throat and the intensity of his thrusts increases, he clings desperately to you as you tease him again, encircling his hips with your legs.

In the clearing the obscene sounds of your relationship are lost in the wind, the leaves of the tree moving gently almost as if blessing your union.

You kiss him once more and let his tongue take over your mouth, abandoning his deep sighs in you, your walls begin to vibrate ecstatically each time his cock repeatedly plows through them, your belly heats up and you squeeze his swollen length into your pussy, preventing him from leaving at all, Jimin increases his jet speed, now sure of the pleasure that envelops you like a bubble and crushes you against his body, he rides the waves of lust like a stallion, your lungs run out of breath and the world swirls around you.

"We're going to have a baby," he growls decisively, his once ice-blue eyes now a deep electric blue, "And I'm going to bring your uncle's head to you, love," he announces, repeatedly pounding into you at a more assertive and rough pace, his pleasure is snaking incandescently, he can't wait to cum inside you and fill you to the last drop, you will surely accept him as a good wife should.

You tremble with panting and his fierce lunges, praying that he will never leave you, your core is on fire, your walls wrap around him with desperation, and your clit is ready again to let you go in a spiral of enjoyment. You want it all, you yearn for it, you need it, you would kill for it all.

Making love with Jimin.

Yes.

Carrying his child.

Yes.

Having your uncle's head on a silver platter.

Yes.

You hold him in your arms as the first hot jet is shot inside you, he is still buried between your legs as he continues to come, you whimper and at yet another strand of his seed you stiffen, you open your mouth wide in a mute sound as you come with no more strength.

Your body is shaken, unable to recover and you don't understand why, you try to escape when Jimin comes out of your sweet depths, but he blocks you with his weight.

You stare at him shocked when he returns with his hand to your pussy, repeatedly rubbing your perky, still rigid pearl, you shake your head.

"No, it's too much!" you cry clutching your legs, but he continues fearlessly, "I can't do it," you gasp pleadingly.

"It's what you need, honey" he murmurs in your ear, "You're so sensitive you don't realize you need another orgasm to soothe your body, I should have fed you earlier like this, sweet little thing" he sighs with his wrist locked between your thighs, bliss finally comes in little spurts of pleasure that make you gasp and Jimin's thumb stops torturing you, you sag against him without strength, feeling nothing but the vibrations of your intimacy still reliving the intensity and strength of his presence.

"Thank you," you say turning a little toward him, who stares at you with all the love he has for you, "For everything."

But the blond man shakes his head, "You did it all, my princess, I just waited for you" you hear regret in his tone of voice and you're sorry, you don't want him to think back to all the time that kept you apart, now you're together and that's all that matters.

"We will be fine now," you nod.

"When I regain the kingdom" a kiss, "Our baby will be born" another kiss, "And I'll have the king's head to make you a gift" he snaps an even more intense kiss, "We'll be even better, to love you this and more, Y/N" he stares at you with devotion and you lose a beat.

"And I want it, I want it all, Jimin" you let yourself be cradled in your love's embrace and you notice a flash of lightning in passing, you widen your eyes and turn toward the big tree.

It was only an instant, but you swear you saw the runic symbols glow gold.

You kiss Jimin's neck with a smile, foretasting a flood of sweet happenings for both of you, you feel your lap throb gently and you know, a new dynasty is about to be brought into the world.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

© 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲𝐙𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 -  𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. || 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[sareenawails]

ROBIN HOOD HOBIE

YIPPEE OCTOBIE WEEK 3!!

I wanted to make something that looked more realistic and colorful

I'm really proud of myself for this one!

Here's his full outfit

I think I did an ok job at making it feel medieval but I didn't want to lose Hobie's punkness

References

octobie event by @the-kr8tor

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Robin Hood au

-I voted for medieval theme just cuz I wanted the excuse to draw this lol

-Anyways here’s very bad and lazy plot summary of this hobie au

-English is not my first language so if this is bad please bear with me I'm not a writer for a reason.

-Like the original folklore tale, this is set in medieval England

-Hobie is an outlaw, who with a group of other outlaws called the Merry Band ( originally called merry men but I don't like that soo), steals from the wealthy and gives back to the poor

-He goes by the name Robin Hood to hide his identity( so he’s less easy to track idk)

-Anyways, in this universe Y/N (or an OC whatever you prefer) is part of the royal family or a wealthy noble family.

-They are very sheltered due to the death of loved one (probably their mom or sister)- left their father very emotionally scarred, so he’s very overprotective of them

-for whatever reason, y/n and hobie run in into each other and hobie steals an expensive piece of jewelry from them(necklace, bracelet, brooch, whatever doesn’t really matter)

-This piece of jewelry however holds a lot of emotional value to them because it was given to them by their aforementioned deceased loved one.

-They manage to run into hobie again ( probably because they were trying to track him down and he catches on to what they were doing and decided to confront them) and tries to get their heirloom back

-He tells Y/N that he’ll give them their heirloom back if and only if they become a sort of spy for him. Someone who spends time around nobles and wealthy merchants and can give him insider information ( Who has the most money, whos an easy target, where and when would he be able to find them, etc useful info)

-Y/N is obviously very put off by this offer, after all their whole life they’ve been raised to be a respectable figure in their kingdom. Working with one of the kingdom’s most wanted criminals would be a dangerous, bizzare thing to do; It could get them in serious trouble with the law, bring shame to their family’s name, get them disowned all together.

-The risk is big but their desire to get their heirloom back is even bigger, so reluctantly they agree.

-From them their odd relationship begins. It’s a very enemies to friends to lovers kind of thing (I'm basic I know)

- Y/N sees hobie as a dirty criminal who wants to take advantage of them and would throw them under the bus if the need arises

-Hobie sees them as nothing more than another pompous noble who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves.

-It’s a very “strictly business” relationship due to their refusal to get along with each other.

-The longer they spend working together the more they get to know more about the other's side of the story.

-Hobie learns about how sheltered Y/N is, how they have a double life as commoner and royal, and how much they yearn for a more independent life. He learns that y/n is not as selfish and heartless as he thought they were, they’re just naive about a lot of things.

-Y/N learns about what hobie’s life was like growing up as one of the many unfortunate people in the kingdom. Having to scrounge and steal in order to survive, having to go on days on an empty stomach in order to save what little he had. They learn why he chose to do the things he does and that he and his crew are purposefully painted in bad light as criminals for doing what the rich aren’t willing to do.

-As they get closer they start looking out for each other more

-Y/N helps him cover up his tracks, using their high status to get him out of sticky situations. Sometimes they even help him patch up his wounds.

-In turn, hobie gives them a taste of that freedom they’ve always wanted. Going out and showing them parts of the kingdom they never seen before

Anyways that's all I really have I thought of this at like 2 am so it's not really that good.

If any actual writers feel inspired by this and want to write a better, more well thought out version then be my guest ( plz tag me i'd love to read it!)

HAPPY OCTOBIE EVERYONE!!

[hotteokyu]

Bad Girl Syndrome

MINORS DNI ~ EXPLICIT CONTENT

Synopsis~ Reader and Yunho are some bad bitches. They're lovers in crime, infamous for their heartless acts. Everyone knows them. The scariest of the scariest are scared of them. They're insane. Except... there's one little secret. The lovers are so innocent behind closed doors. They've never thought about it until now, let alone done it. Sex, that is.

Word count~ 11.4k

Pairing~ outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader

Genre / WARNINGS ~ NSFW / EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, romance, violence, drugs, criminal activity, sexual tension, pet names, insensitive language, yu and y/n are super cute, they "participate" in an orgy temporarily, dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, yuyu's big, first time, virgins.

a/n~ have fun!! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Everyone has a story. Most of them aren’t important. 

     But yours is.

     You were fifteen when you met him. 

     It was silly because he was just like you.

     He liked to do bad things.

     You saw him first at a local charity. One that helped ex-convicts start a new life. You saw him hand a freaky-looking shit a gun. It was on the news the next morning. Fifteen people died. And that freaky guy killed himself after.

     You liked to do bad things too.

     Smashing vending machines, selling drugs, breaking into rich fucks’ houses, and snipping their whores’ hair off while they slept. Just small things.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Jeong Yunho was his name.

     It took only a month for him to notice you. When you got together at sixteen, you began to do worse things. Kill, rob, torment. It felt so much better to do it with Yunho. Your reputation built on its own as your desire to play alongside him grew.

     You were wanted in four countries by eighteen.

     At nineteen, you were arrested in Mongolia for murder and wanted to die rather than live through that hell. You were assaulted physically and sexually multiple times by inmates and guards alike.

     You were twenty when you killed an inmate for trying to take your clothes off. You had smashed her head against the cell bars until her brains were spilling out and she collapsed, dead. You were gone before she was found.

     You and Yunho had to move around a lot after that, and you found others along the way. Seven outlaws, wanted for this or that. Your gang was somewhat official by the time you were twenty-one. That’s when you found your turf. And you never left.

     By twenty-four, you were fucking unstoppable. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Hmm? Where’s your bitch?” 

     The bar was quiet. The bartender, a youthful drunkard, was always talking the customers away. It was bad for business but nice for the locals. For you and your bitch.

     “He’s around,” you sighed. “You think he’ll leave me? He doesn’t even take me out anymore.” You sat down softly upon a stool at the bar, your chin resting on the palm of your hand sadly. There was even a little pout to go with it. “I just might die if he leaves me.”

     The man scoffed, rubbing uselessly at a stained glass, pinching its rim with a black hand towel. It looked like it would turn to dust, as it used to be purple. “About time. I’m tired of your shit.”

     You ignored him, instead sighing again as you eyed the door gloomily. 

     Wooyoung was his name, maybe. You’d thought about killing him before, but Yunho really liked him. For some reason. He was so loud. Holy shit, he did not stop talking. It made you so fucking close to slicing his neck wide open.

     The bell above the door rang, and two heavy feet stumbled inside. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. You’d taken a shower that morning, but a bath didn’t sound too bad. Just to soothe your frustrations, though you could already feel them fading away.

     You opened your eyes slowly, cocking a brow at the bartender, who was very much not amused. At least he wasn’t talking. 

     “Wooyoungie~!” you sang, hopping to your feet as the steps grew closer. You let a smirk land on your lips. “I think I’ll live tonight!”

     “I think you should just go home,” he groaned, eyeing the customer behind you, then returning his annoyed orbs right back at your growing grin. Your lips stretched far over your teeth as you reached a cheek-squishing smile.

     “There’s no tomorrow! Only tonight!” you shouted. 

     The steps behind you halted. Even retreated just once or twice. You stepped out, twirling your hair over your shoulder as you turned your head toward him. Six feet tall, big, strong, eyes wide in terror as he laid them on your grin. 

     You liked eyeing up those men. The big ones who turned to putty as soon as they heard your pretty voice or saw your beautiful face. It was so cute. I mean, who could be scared of you? Your little bows and skirts. Your cutesy smile and pretty pink lip gloss. Not to mention your beautiful eyes. Any man would want to fall deep into their ethereal design. But instead, they were drained of all color. Gray clumps of old smelly men who were so scared of you. It made the killing part so much more fulfilling. 

     You took a step, your left foot before your right. A straight line as you pattered your way, just a few steps, toward the frozen man. They were so slow. Could he even see you moving? He didn’t even move his eyes from your smile. He was a little nervous. You had to let him get comfortable with your face, let him enjoy it. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

     You could see his tremble as you got closer, just a bit. He didn’t move, but he consistently quivered in that spot.

     Around then, you would usually be thinking of how you wanted to do it, but you were so tired. You just wanted to slit his throat and be done. Have Wooyoung take care of the rest. Or maybe just let him go. He seemed to want to leave anyway. Not that you were stopping him. 

     A glass slid against the counter then. You glanced over, just a little curious. You were so zoned in, but the sound broke that abruptly.

     “Hi, baby,” Yunho mumbled from a stool at the bar. Your pin-sized pupils dilated significantly at the simple sight of him. The soft, low sound of his voice. 

     You heard a whimper of sorts from the man beside you, and you frowned, eyeing him and deepening the curve of your lips. “Can you just go?” you sighed, rolling your eyes when his legs stumbled in trying to figure out where to move. 

     His knees dropped to the floor, a droplet of water splashing against the dirty mud-tracked tile. That was either a tear or the drool that had been dripping from his mouth since he fucking walked in. Disgusting. He suddenly choked out a sob so gruesome and horrified as he slammed his arms over his head.

     “Oh, okay.” She glanced over at the two men at the counter, slowly shrugging in confusion. They were getting so stupidly scared. How could fear make you like that? That’s so embarrassing. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “How are you still standing, Wooyoungie?” Yunho chuckled, splashing his drink as he clanked his glass against your kitchen counter. “Her face is so scary~!” He took your head between his two huge hands and squished your cheeks together, imitating the pout that your lips formed as he watched your features reshape between his palms. “Ooh~ I’m so scared~!” He grinned when your tightly knitted brows lightened and hopped a little with your small laugh. 

     “I’m going home,” Wooyoung grumbled, pushing his glass away as he sighed dramatically at your lovey-lovely shit. “Don’t call me. I’ll be dead anyway.”

     “No~! That’s not true!!” you laughed. “We’ll protect you!” 

     Yunho nodded, giving Wooyoung a confident thumbs up. He wasn’t really having it.

     “Don’t call me.”

     The door creaked and slammed, the sound echoing throughout the room. Yunho was watching the frames on the wall tremble for a moment before he eagerly turned back toward you. His grin was playful as always, his eyes squinting as he watched your pretty little face.

     “Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked, his smile growing a bit bigger when you nodded quickly. He put a gentle hand on your head, stroking down once, then twice. There was always a gentleness to his gaze that you adored. Because Yunho was a dangerous man, but he also became putty when he looked at you. Only in a completely different way from anyone else. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Money wasn’t the issue. It was just so thrilling. Of course, money was great too. There was just something about that moment outside of the forbidden vault. You could hardly breathe with the mask sticking to your face like a second layer of skin. Your eyes sparkled out of excitement and the reflection of the shimmer of the silver vault door. 

     You weren’t allowed in there. You weren’t allowed to have any of what lay beyond the door. So you wanted it. 

     “Ladies first.” Yunho’s voice was soft beside your ear, his body pressing lightly against your back as he bent down to meet you at your level. You lifted your hand just high enough to feel the fluff of his black hair peeking out from the mask at his neck. You slid your fingers against the soft of his skin gently. “Or are you scared?” he whispered, folding just a little closer. He took your wrist in his hand and lowered it, placing it on the wheel of the door. “Or do you need help?”

     You pulled, and the door creaked, slowly opening to reveal the bags and boxes of treasures within. This town was so underdeveloped. No need for technology or even locks within the vault because there was hardly anything to anyone’s name anyway. 

     “You’ve got three minutes. We parked out back. Call when you’re ready to go.” You could hear the crinkles of a bag and the crunches of snacks through your earpiece. Seonghwa was probably in the driver’s seat munching on some chips. At least he ate neatly. 

     As soon as you stepped foot into the room, the other three outlaws on your raid team rushed inside. San, Jongho, and Yeosang. They were big, and strong, and good at being efficient in times like these. They would take care of loading the goods. 

     You walked past the gold bars and green bills toward the back of the vault, an empty wall, the perfect canvas. Yunho held out the spray paint, black this time. Black meant murder, though this was a robbery. There was one death, the lady at the counter who wanted to be a hero. But it was hardly murder. She collapsed with a little push against the wall.

     Sighing, you took the can. Then, as far as your arms could reach, you sprayed your gang’s cute little symbol. The curves looked nice that time, dripping just a bit as you stood back to admire your hard work. 

     “We’re leaving,” Yunho announced as you turned toward the door. The room was nearly empty. You grabbed the final bag as everyone filed out.

     The blood on the floor from the lady had spread into the walkway. You stepped into the puddle with a small smile. You liked leaving a trace of your cute pink boots behind. The cops would go crazy over the evidence, but it would be useless.

     “I thought you liked those boots,” Yunho mumbled, pouting a little as you all got in the van and drove off. “They’re ruined…”

     “I’ll get new ones,” you assured, knowing he liked them more than you did. 

     You wiggled your feet out and frowned when you saw a drop of red on your white sock down by your toes. Yunho gasped, taking your foot off of the van floor and placing it in his lap. 

     “You like these too,” he grumbled.

     Yunho always grew a little attached to cute things. Especially when they were on you. 

     You placed your hands on his soft cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. “I think you like them more than I do,” you teased, and he nodded. “Do you like them more than you like me?” you asked, pouting a little.

     “Holy shit!” San suddenly shouted. Everyone turned their heads in confusion, your hands dropping to your lap. “Get a fucking room,” he practically growled, glaring at the two of you in the back seat. “I’m tired of hearing it! You’re practically fucking each other every heist! Just wait until you get home!” He huffed and turned around in his seat.

     Sex. What distaste.

     “San, be for serious right now,” Wooyoung snickered.

     “They don’t even kiss. What do you mean fuck?” Jongho added. San glanced around in confusion.

     “They’re all up on each other, though, what do you mean??” 

     When you simply shifted in your seat, making your presence known, silence passed through the air. Not a single thought passed through that rigid air. No one moved. San’s face was awfully fucking pale compared to his golden skin. You’d think out of all of the seven outlaws you picked up from the streets, the stray cat should be the most grateful. I guess even loyal pets need to be retaught their manners.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     San looked guilty. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. You would never hurt him too badly. He was family, after all. 

     Choi San.

     You loved to joke around. You loved to have fun. You were a jolly girl. But to label you a whore? To speak or even think about such vulgar, lowly things?

     “San, what did we talk about, honey,” you asked, glancing down at his trembling hand, gripping his thigh and staining his black pants with his sweat. “It’s not too hard, is it? To respect me and your people.” 

     He shook his head, staring straight at the ground. You could feel your eye twitching. This relationship was not built on violence, so, unfortunately, you couldn’t just fucking kill him. 

     “San, please look at me.” His head shot up, and you saw the hot tears quivering in his bloodshot eyes. You frowned. “Poor, baby.” He was doing a poor job of keeping those tears bottled up. They looked like they’d spill over. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

     “I know,” he said between gritted teeth.

     “You know, I love you,” you said sweetly, giving him a small smile. 

     “I know.”

     “So what brought about this disrespect?” you asked, your voice growing just a bit tighter as you tried to contain yourself. He was fragile. “Was I rude to you? Was I bothering you too much? Do I annoy you?”

     He shook his head. “I was worried about your privacy,” he mumbled. His jaw was locked tight, the veins in his neck bulging as he stared into the center of your face. “That’s all.”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Fuuuck~” Wooyoung groaned. “I’m so ready to get the fuck out of here!” He leaned his head against the wall, lifting it and dropping it in quiet thuds.

     “Got a day left, Woo,” Yeosang reminded, smiling optimistically at his friend. He gave a cute thumbs-up, but the goon was uninterested, instead banging his head just a bit harder against the heist room wall. 

     “We’ve only been here for three months,” Hongjoong said as he walked in through the back door. His steps were a sophisticated rhythm, one foot in front of the other as he strolled into the little abandoned warehouse. “What’s one more day?”

   �� “Captain, I’m sick of living in hiding like a fucking criminal,” Wooyoung grumbled, stopping his banging once the man sat down.

     “That’s crazy,” Jongho snickered. “Who’s gonna tell him?”

     “Fuck, we deserve luxury,” Wooyoung practically moaned. “That town we went to two years back. We should go there again.” He bit his lip, rolling his eyes at the pleasurable thought of living like normal rich biches again.

     Hongjoong smiled softly. It always looked a little menacing that way. “Our princess picked out a nice place for us this time,” he said, winking as Wooyoung’s face lit up. “I thought it might be nice to fuck up something nice.”

     “Fuck, you’re so right,” Wooyoung moaned.

     “Did we forget our manners, Wooyoungie?” Yunho asked, leaning against the back of his chair. Wooyoung flinched just slightly before relaxing into a playful smirk.

     “Yeah. I’m a bad boy,” he mumbled, leaning his head back into Yunho’s stomach. “Gotta punish me.” 

     He glanced at you and your indifferent expression. He looked annoyed, disappointed, even. Then he lifted his head, sighed, and acted like nothing had just happened. 

     “Can we focus on tonight? We can’t fuck this up,” you said, and all eyes landed on you. “The cops are on high alert, and they know we’ll be there. They want to get us tonight.”

     “You mean, you?” Wooyoung grumbled. “They don’t give a shit about us. They just want you.” He eyed you reluctantly, then glanced toward Yunho. “And maybe him.” He half-assed a point toward the man. 

     “Don’t be silly,” Yunho cooed, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder sympathetically. “They want all of us equally.”

     Hongjoong shook his head. “No, he’s right,” he said. “We’re all fucked up, but you guys are on another level of fucked up. You’re the real prize.” 

     “I bet they’d cuff one of us just to ask where Y/n is. They’d let us go if we told,” San said, puckering his lips. “But I’m a good boy, so I’d never tell.”

     You scrunched your brows. Why were your teammates such freaks?

     “Aww~!” Wooyoung sung. “Is Sannie a good boy?” San nodded, giving his best puppy eyes as Wooyoung leaned over the table to stroke his short black hair.

     “Anyway!” you interrupted, clearing your throat when the freaks wouldn’t stop petting each other. “Does everyone remember what they need to fucking do?” You pressed your lips together, glancing at each individual as they nodded. One of them would find a way to fuck this up. You knew they would. It would probably be fucking Choi San, his head stuck thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Fucking whore. 

     You left the room first, and Yunho followed close behind. Your black heels clacked on the cracked concrete floor and echoed throughout the empty warehouse. You loved that sound. You let it envelop your mind. Let it calm you down just a bit. 

     You should’ve been excited for that night. It was the night you’d been waiting for for a long time. Then you could finally get out of here. You just couldn’t get yourself hyped. You were so annoyed. 

     Yunho peeked into your line of vision, and you cracked a small smile, turning toward him happily. He was grinning, his hand folding into yours. He always fell into step beside you, his heelclickingng in time with yours. He was so conscious of every little detail. The folds on your skin, how they wrinkled just slightly at your agitation. The falter in your step, how your confidence must not be at its peak as it should be on an important night like this. 

     “Do you think we’re fucked up?” he asked, and you gave him a knowing look.

     “Of course not, baby. Don’t think that,” you cooed. “I’m just so pretty. They all want me so bad.”

     He laughed, squeezing his eyes together giddily as he pulled you just a bit closer. 

     “You gonna dress in black tonight?” he asked, looking from your shoes to your top to the pin in your hair. You were feeling a little depressed today. So what?

     “Mm…” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe I would feel better if I wore some pink.”

     He nodded quickly. “I think so.”

     “Yeah?” you giggled.

     He bit his lip, eyeing you shyly. “Pink looks really good on you.” You nearly coo at the pink blush tinting his cheeks from ear to ear. 

     He was so adorable. You didn’t even need to put any pink on to feel good.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     For context, it was a masquerade party or something. The cargo was a small vial of a newly developed drug. It gave an aroused, high feeling. A lot like an aphrodisiac, but stronger. It didn’t really matter what it was. Your buddies in Russia wanted it, so you would supply it. 

     But, of course, there was a guest list. No one would let you in. Everyone and their mothers knew your pretty little face. 

     That’s where your pretty princess came in. Mingi wasn’t a “member” of your gang, nor was he affiliated with you publically. He was born with money and status but liked to do bad things. He was naughty, but he was quiet. And he fucking loved you and Jeong Yunho. He met you two back when you were kids in Korea. He tagged along for a while but was dragged back to the princess life before anything became public. He had connections, money, and a fine good reputation. Your perfect princess. 

     You would go to the party as “Mingi”’s plus one. The man at your side would only be Mingi until you got inside, though. Once the identity authentication was processed, he would sneak out and switch with Yunho. As much as you all loved Mingi, he wasn’t very good at being naughty. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Are you feeling all right, baby?” Yunho asked, his arm escorting you stiffly through the crowd.

     You hardly heard him over the extremity of your heartbeat. Fuck, this place was gorgeous. You wanted to look around at each painting, each dress, each extravagant jewel bedazzling the walls and tables, and fountains of assortments of drinks, and the gold flakes on sweet macaroons. The clacks of gentle steps elegantly echoed throughout the doming walls of the crystal structure. You could die a happy lady with this sight.

     “Do you like the dress I picked out for you?” Mingi asked from over the radio. Yunho’s arm tensed at your side, squeezing yours to him to keep your steps from wandering too far in amazement.

     You glanced toward Yunho with a soft, composed smile. “It’s lovely,” you told Mingi. In all honesty, it was pale and boring. Not at all your style, but at least it was shiny and blended in with the majority of the crowd. 

     Your mask, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. When Yunho saw your sparkling eyes hidden beautifully in the shadows of the decorative piece, he nearly fell to his knees. He was in awe, not wanting to part from you, even if it was for, like, ten minutes. Mingi had to pry your arm from his grasp. It was embarrassing in front of your members, but you could just coo at his needy behavior. 

     Yunho gave you a knowing look as you frowned slightly down at your dress. 

     “The room you need to go into is downstairs,” Mingi sighed. “The guy with your package should arrive there soon.”

     “Any cams in there?” Yeosang asked, his fingers clacking against his ancient keyboard. 

     Mingi hummed. “I doubt it. Most of the time… shit goes down in the basement, ya know?” 

     It was a disadvantage you wish you didn’t have, but there was literally no information on the activities in the room you needed to be in. You had to be prepared for anything, and that was dangerous. 

     “Y/n, you see anything noteworthy around the stairs in the back?” Wooyoung asked. “I think I might know something.”

     You turned to Yunho, smiling up at him as you swayed your hand animatedly, talking almost silently but very expressively. “I think I know too. Butlers are carrying drinks down there every few minutes. Attendees…” you chuckled, a little nervous now that it’s all clicked for you. “The most revealing of the ladies and oldest, ugliest of the men.”

     Yunho nodded, smiling. “Does that mean…”

     “Well,” Wooyoung chuckled. “At least there’s two of you! It should be fine!”

     You winced as he let out a louder, monkey fucking laugh into your ear. You'd beat him up later, respect aside. 

     “You think this is funny?” you asked through tightly ground teeth. 

     “Guuuys~” he giggled, starting to calm down a bit. “It won’t be too hard. There’s gonna be tons of drugs and butt-naked men, but don’t pay attention to any of that.”

     “We don’t even know if that’s what it is,” Yeosang interrupted. 

     “That’s definitely what it is,” you sighed, watching as panting men and ladies escaped the darkness of the basement, sweating, flushed, and high as fuck.

     Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Listen. All you have to do is pretend to have some fun together. Then, pull out your magic drugs and get the guy’s attention. You know what the new stuff looks like. Make sure to bag it. You’ve done this for years, babes.”

     “Yeah, but people weren’t fucking and moaning and blocking every fucking sen-”

     Yunho placed a hand on your hip and squeezed lightly. You needed to shut the fuck up. Who were you to complain? It wouldn’t be hard. Woo was right. You would get in, bag that shit, and get out.

     “Let’s just go,” you mumbled, letting your expression sag to its natural annoyed state before you plastered an excited smile on your lips. 

     Yunho also seemed reluctant but tagged along regardless. I mean, neither of you really had a choice. This, or your Russian “buddies” would come find you while you were sleeping. 

     The guy at the door stopped you as you approached. You giggled like a slut, leaning into Yunho as you bit your lip. You reached into your man’s jacket pocket and slipped out just barely your little container of candy. He looked satisfied and let you pass. 

     You practically gagged as soon as that stench hit your nose. What the fuck was it. Alcohol. Tobacco. Cum. 

     What a fucking mess. 

     Woo was right. Buck naked, boobies hanging. Sex in every corner. Sex on every couch. 

     “Come on, baby,” Yunho groaned in your ear, pulling you to a free chair in the back of the room. Your ear twitched at the sound. It was definitely something you’d never heard from your sweet man before. You already knew he was much better at acting like he’d actually had sex before than you were. 

     He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. That was about all he had in him. He dropped his arms, pressed his lips tightly together, and stared wide-eyed at you above him. 

     “So you guys are in,” Wooyoung chuckled. “Where are you two in the room? Stay in the back, away from everyone’s attention.”

     “We’re in the back. O-on a chair,” you whispered into Yunho’s ear, right where his mic was. You lingered there for a moment. You could figure this out. It couldn’t be that hard. Sex. I mean, not sex. Pretending you were having sex. 

     After a long moment of horrible silence in your little area, Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Do you guys need some help?”

     “Yes,” you and Yunho both whispered immediately. 

     Wooyoung let out the biggest sigh, but he didn’t say anything about your incompetence as a couple. I mean, everyone knew you DID NOT fuck. For some reason… Everyone knew that. 

     “Sit on Yunho’s lap, Y/n,” he said. You nodded, glad you already had step one down. “All the way. Get all the way up on him.”

     You tilted your head. “All-?”

     “All the way.”

     You blushed, clearing your throat lightly as you scooted up on his lap, your hips flush together. You leaned over him, your mouth beside his ear simply to have his mic handy, but, this close, it felt too real already to simply be a mission. You’d never climbed your man like this before. You were probably heavy.

     “Yunho, hands on her hips.” 

     They were quick to tap your flesh, trembling as he curled his long, slender fingers around your waist. 

     “Now, listen to me,” he sighed, “Y/n, you’re gonna, like, roll your hips, BUT, you're gonna push against his stomach, NOT his crotch. Okay?? Not his crotch. Don't touch him there. Lift your hips a bit and roll them against his stomach.” 

     Yunho helped you lift your hips up a bit. You puckered your lips as you slowly pushed your hips forward. It was awkward and stiff, but you thought maybe you were doing it right. I mean, it didn’t feel like anything, so you couldn’t tell if it actually looked like you were doing anything. 

     “Does this seem right?” you whispered, continuing the slow rocking motion with his gentle guidance. 

     “Probably…” he mumbled, taking a slow, shaky breath.

     “Yunho, make sure to put on a good face for the crowd, buddy,” Wooyoung said. Yunho tensed a bit at that. You, though… immediately lifted your face from his side and stared at him. He was flushed, his eyes wide, a bit shocked at your sudden movement. 

     But you didn’t want him to make expressions like that for everyone to see. 

     You pressed your forehead against his with slightly parted lips. He was so close, his hands on your body, lips just an inch from yours. You had to close your eyes, taking slow breaths. 

     “I think this is better,” you mumbled, your nose brushing just barely against his. 

     He tried to nod, but it was just a tremble of his adorable features as he gazed at everything in front of him. 

     After a moment, everything started to slow down a bit. Your legs were relaxing, getting a bit messier in their precise movement, and you lowered just a bit. 

     He hissed, and you eyed him in confusion. Was he hurting somewhere? He shook his head, his grip on your hips tightening. He whispered something, but with his mouth so far from your ear, his voice was drowned out by the moaning and slapping throughout the room.

     So you leaned forward, your head above his shoulder, but instead of words, you were met with a low groan.

     You could hear the sudden confusion in Wooyoung’s hums on the other end. “Yunho? You good, man? What happened?”

     “I don’t think this is right,” he mumbled.

     “What do you mean?” you whispered.

     “I don’t think we’re doing it right,” he breathed, his voice starting to tremble as he let out the smallest peep of a sound against his will.

     “It’s not like I’ve done this before,” you grumbled. “It’s fine as long as it looks like we’re doing something.”

     “No, I mean-”

     “It’s fine, Yunho. We’ll be done soon anyway.”

     He dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a defeated sigh, his grip loose on your hips as he let out small, shivering sounds, some low, some soft and light. You could hardly hear them at all. 

     You didn’t really know what to do. It would be over as soon as you found your guy. You would apologize and pamper him when it was all over. 

     “He’s headed in,” Wooyoung announced. “Get his attention, please.” 

     “Wow, so polite today,” you mumbled, lifting your head just a bit to glance toward the door. 

     There he was, old, wrinkly, ugly, short. You know how it is. You wondered if he’d even be interested in you with your clothes on. Cause you were not fucking taking them off.

     You grabbed the drugs from Yunho’s pocket, hopped off his lap, and strode across the room. You caught his eye almost immediately. Without a word, you grabbed his tie and pulled his head toward yours, tapping your forehead against his.

     He looked interested already, but at the sight of what was in your hand, his pupils blew out completely. 

     “I brought my toy with me tonight,” you said, slurring your words with a giggle. “But he’s no fun right now. Wanna join us?” 

     He was practically drooling, so you pulled away. If any of that fucking got on you, you would’ve made it everybody’s problem. 

     He nodded, but, stepping just a bit closer, you shook your head, tisking at his desperate agreement.

     “You got anything with you? Dick is no fun tonight.” You pouted a bit. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     To say this was the easiest fucking mission you’d ever done just wasn’t enough. I mean, you got to climb on your man for the first time. You got to dress up and attend a fancy ball with a fancy ball gown. You didn’t have to show your face. You got what you needed without a problem.

     But then you were back in your little home, buried under the rush of the working class. Buried under the city, under the shops and the stars and the people. You and Yunho were alone.

     And to say it wasn’t the most awkwardly silent moment in your entire life simply wouldn’t give justice to the situation. Because how does one go about something so different from anything you’d ever done before? Especially when your relationship status has been set at relaxing routine for years on end. Nothing has ever changed or developed since you were teenagers. 

     Now you were sitting on your little couch, facing the wall, side by side, as there wasn’t much room for any more than just the two of you. There was never the need for any more space. Why was everything so clustered all of a sudden? Everything was so hot. You were flustered, warm, and you needed to change into something lighter. You needed to scoot just a little bit away from him. You needed some fresh air.

     You didn’t move from your spot. 

     He rubbed his palms against his pants. He must’ve been hot too. He was breathing slowly and deeply. He must’ve been flustered. He was blushing from ear to ear. He must’ve been thinking the same things.

     So neither of you moved.

     Your eyes wandered from the floor to your hands to the wall to his eyes. You both looked away. 

     Fuck, this was so embarrassing. You’d lost track of how many years you’d been together. You hardly remembered a time when you didn’t know him. And this was what it all came to?

     “I’m sorry I did that, Yuyu,” you mumbled, nibbling just slightly against your bottom lip. You promised you would apologize and pamper him until he forgave you, but that was all in the heat of the moment. You were too embarrassed now.

     “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, almost laughing. He did that when he was beyond embarrassed. Practically humiliated. 

     “It was an inappropriate thing to do on a mission. I should have been more careful,” you sighed. 

     He did laugh then, but more because he could finally look at you and see how serious you were. Your little pout was the cutest thing.

     “I think that was a very appropriate place to do that,” he joked, grinning when you tilted your head in disbelief. He patted your knee, settling down his giggles. “It’s okay, baby. It was just a disguise.”

     “You felt good, though,” you mumbled, your head lowered as you gazed up at his cheeks, turning back to their pink flush. His hand twitched on your knee. He wanted to cover his face with his hand, but he kept it planted there, shaking his head instead.

     “I didn’t,” he denied. “You were doing what Youngie said to do, so I didn’t feel anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Seriously.” His voice rose, a small scoff leaving his lips when you just sat there. Yunho couldn’t let lies simmer in silent air for much longer than, like, ten seconds.

     “Well,” you started, sitting up a little straighter, “I didn’t feel anything either.” Which was mostly true. You were so focused on the heist. You didn’t have time to focus on… that.

     “Exactly,” he mumbled, eyeing you with a slight pout. “We didn’t do anything. We don’t do stuff like that.”

     “Well, I mean,” you huffed,  taking a few short, puffing breaths. “It wouldn’t be weird for us to do something like that.”

     “I just mean we haven’t,” he muttered, so quiet and muffled between his puckered lips.

     You blinked a few times, staring blankly at your hands in your lap. “We don’t even know how to do it,” you said, biting your lip as you glanced from him to the floor to him again. He had a similar blank, thoughtless expression, but you knew his mind was spinning like crazy. Just like yours. “And anyway,” you started, tilting your head from side to side as you thought, “it’s weird to start that so late, you know? Like, no one’s a virgin at twenty-four. That’s weird…” You eyed him slowly, and he was covering his mouth then, looking out the window with deep red ears. “...Right? That’s weird, right?”

     “I’m a virgin at twenty-five,” he mumbled, glancing at you. You could tell he was grinning behind his long, slender fingers. “I’m a freak, right?”

     You stared at him, thinking honestly about your answer, for just a moment before nodding. “Yeah, you’re a freak.” 

     He nudged your side with his arm with a grumble of some nonsense, words jumbled together quietly and fast.

     “Hmm?” You quirked a brow, staring at him as he avoided your eyes. “What’d you say?”

     “Nothing,” he mumbled, leaning away from you as you leaned closer, trying to catch his attention. “Nevermind,” he said, obviously fighting a smile as you poked at his side, trying to get him to look at you.

     “No~” you groaned. “What did you saaay??”

     You slipped your leg over his as he refused to look your way and sat right back down in that controversial place you’d been discussing. His lap. 

     He shut his eyes and dropped his head back to the couch cushion in disbelief. “You’ll get mad,” he mumbled.

     “I won’t,” you promised, tapping his chest as he stayed silent for another few seconds. “Were you gonna say…” you pretended to think hard, humming softly as you scooted forward on his lap. “...that you actually felt really good?” You, ever so slightly, rolled your hips forward, and his eyes squeezed tighter as his lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “In a room like that? You like that? Have you been a pervert this whole time, baby?” You gasped as his eyes shot open, and you rolled your hips again. His left eye twitched, making cold contact with yours. “So I was right,” you beamed.

     “No,” he said, planting his hands on your hips and halting your tiny movements. “When did you learn to do that?” he asked, frowning deeply.

     “What do you mean, baby,” you mumbled. “Wooyoung taught me earlier today. You were there.” 

     “This is different,” he said, pushing you away slightly. 

     You shook your head. “Nuh uh. I was doing it like this earlier too.” You suppressed a giddy smile as he gazed at you, completely unimpressed. “Why? Does it feel good?”

     “Of course it does,” he grumbled, glancing from his lap to your eyes over and over like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

     So you cupped his cheeks in your hands and focused his eyes on you. You raised your brows lightly, a soft smile on your lips. “How about a kiss?” 

     His brows twitched. “What?”

     “You know,” you mumbled, “we kiss all the time.”

     “Do we?” he questioned knowingly. 

     “We do it enough. A good amount. The amount people should, I guess.” 

     He laughed, his cheeks puffing up under your soft palms. He leaned with a small sigh into your right hand, not too tense anymore, just enjoying the view.

     “Should we kiss then?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he gazed at your flushed cheeks. You nodded, your eyes wandering around the room, sometimes flickering to his plump pink lips. 

     As he leaned forward, you quickly closed your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t remember the last time you’d kissed. You only remembered the first one, but you were sixteen. Things were definitely…

     Softer. Gentler. So, so delicate as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands left your hips to cup your cheeks, mimicking your position out of comfort or familiarity. You didn’t care much, though, because this felt really nice.

     The way you paused and let your lips melt into each other's embrace. Then you moved just slightly in no particular way. You just wanted to feel him a little more. He moved his lips along with yours, slow, slow and careful. You could feel his quiet breath through his nose, but his pulse was racing under your pinky finger on his neck. It was silent other than the soft movement of your lips. 

     You shifted closer. Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if he was distracted. A low groan muffled against your lips and rumbled against your chest as your hips pressed against his. His lips parted but never stopped, moving just a bit faster. He moved one hand to the back of your head, his fingers sliding through your hair. He pulled your face closer. His lips urged you to work faster. Meet his demands. You opened your mouth just a bit like he was. You couldn’t find much of a common movement, but it was a mutual understanding of a growing need. Desire. 

     You flinched, though, when you felt something poke against your sensitive area. You backed your hips away in confusion, but his hands were quick to pull them back.

     “It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips giving little pecks to yours as he let you both catch your breath. “It feels good.” His hands found your back, sliding under your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your lower back. “Does it feel good, baby?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I think I like it.”

     “I like it,” you repeated in a soft whisper. 

     He smiled against your lips before leaving them completely. When he leaned to the side and kissed your neck so gently, you shivered with a trembling exhale. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his lips moved in little kisses along your neck. His hands slid up your hack, bunching your shirt above his arms as he raised him inch by inch, feeling your soft skin shiver under his fingertips.

     “Yunho,” you breathed, feeling completely embraced by him from every side. It was heaven, and you felt so warm, so delicate and loved.

     He giggled to himself, his lips still attached to your neck, and you scoffed in disbelief, nearly sitting up. 

     “I want to taste you so bad,” he laughed. “Is that weird?”

     “What?” you squeaked, your eyes popping out from their sockets as he held you closer to him from behind, afraid you’d run away from the confession. 

     “I mean, people do that, right?” he mumbled. “Lick and bite and stuff. That’s normal. It feels good, probably.”

     “Whatever,” you grumbled. “Do what you want.”

     He hummed against your neck, a clear smile growing on his sly lips. “Really?” 

     You didn’t answer, instead burying your face in his neck in complete embarrassment. You were so red. So dazed. And he hadn’t even done anything. This should have been nothing. But every little thing he-

     Your hand slapped to your mouth as the weirdest, grossest sound left your lips. His teeth had sunken into your neck without warning, his tongue giving little kisses of apology as he chuckled. Your breath was warm and quick against your palm as he soothed the red mark he’d left. You wanted to hit him. That felt so bad. It felt so fucking good. No, that’s weird. It shouldn’t feel good for someone to bite you. Or lick you or anything. Like, that’s weird. 

     “Baby~” he mumbled, practically whining with how pathetically he stretched it out. He lifted his head, his mouth agape as he panted and watched you with such a… how would you describe it even? It was like his pupils were starting to glaze over. Like he was high on the tension in the air. Or maybe just the look and the sound of you. 

     “What?” you mumbled shyly.

     “I didn’t know you could make sounds like that,” he said, shutting his mouth to swallow hard. “Did you?” He paused, biting his lip. “And you didn’t tell me?”

     “Obviously not,” you grumbled, looking away as you tried to wipe away his kisses on your neck, suddenly feeling a little cold without him there. But you felt hot everywhere else. There was no forgetting about that. Especially in some places. I mean, it’s not like you were the only one.

     You shook your head quickly, trying to clear your thoughts. I mean, who was going to lead everything if your man was already high on air? You had to stay level-headed. 

     His features twitched suddenly, and his eyes shot down to his lap where his… now that you’re fucking looking at it… huge bulge pressed against your… now that you’re fucking noticing it… leaking core. You were mortified, to say the least. Like, that’s disgusting. You were getting your… stuff on his pants. 

     Your eyes shot up to him, though, when he groaned at the sight. His brows curled upward desperately as he suddenly couldn’t wait another second to move on to the next part.

     “Baby,” he breathed. “Is it… fuck.” He smiled slightly, but it faded quickly, his emotions overwhelming him all at once. “Look at you,” he sighed.

     He pulled your hips closer, rubbing your clothed core against him. You shut your lips tightly as a tiny whimper escaped. He rubbed against you just the right way, sliding against your clit as he pulled you back and forth. 

     He was breathing heavily, his head resting back against the couch. He basked in the feeling, his cheeks red and features feverish. 

     You slid your fingers through his soft hair, and he leaned toward your touch, his eyes closing gently with a content sigh. You kissed his parted lips as he ground your hips against him. Your noises were muffled in each other’s lips as everything started to pick up its pace. His hands left your hips to travel up your stomach, but you kept the rhythm steady. You tilted your head as your lips moved faster and harder against his. You whimpered into his mouth as you felt his tongue lick hesitantly against your lips. You let him in, his tongue meeting yours with desperate intention. Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him, and his hands gently cupped your breasts with a low groan. 

     “They’re so soft,” he mumbled against your lips.

     “Did you think they’d be rough?” you giggled, breaking away from the kiss with a playful smack of your lips. Your smile faltered as he gave them a soft squeeze. Feeling his big hands slowly envelop your chest made you blush. Sure you weren’t insecure about your body, but his hands just made everything feel so small. Not that you minded at all.

     His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you whimpered at the sensitive touch. His ear visibly twitched as he took note of your response. He brought his fingers to your nipples and flicked them lightly, and you shivered, plopping your forehead down to his shoulder. 

     “Does that feel good?” he cooed, puckering his lips as he listened to your little hiccups of soft, airy moans as he gently pinched and caressed your aroused buds.

     Your thighs were getting weak as you lazily ground your hips down against him. One of his hands came down to your thigh and tapped it lightly before he lifted you from his lap and laid you carefully down on the couch.

     He sat between your legs resting on his heels as he gazed down at you. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and let it fall from the top of his head. His lips parted, bruised and puffy from your abuse. His eyes were glazed over, staring intently yet so dazedly at you. His cock strained thick against his pants. Fuck, all of it was making you feel so good all on your own. Just looking at him above you.

     You grabbed your shirt and stripped it over your head impatiently. You didn’t care if you were naked in front of him. You were so hot, needy, and maybe he’d take the hint and take his shirt off. That was a rare sight to see. It was a pity. Yunho had the most handsome pecs and the softest, cutest tummy. Your baby was always insecure about it, though.

     When he didn’t move, his eyes staring in complete awe at your chest, you tugged lightly at his shirt. He didn’t move his eyes from you as he tossed it over his head. You bit your lip, your hand spreading over his stomach as you engraved the sight into your mind. Who knew when he’d let you see it again?

     You quickly took your pants off, leaving you in just your pink panties as you laid back down.

     His hands caressed your thighs gently as he carefully eased your legs open, nice and wide for him. “Should I make you feel good?” he asked stroking your thighs from your hips to your knees to the dip between your thighs and your sensitive area.

     You nodded, sinking deeper into the couch as he placed a tentative thumb on the wet of your panties. He glanced from his slow rubs to your face, watching cluelessly as you breathed softly. 

     “I should just take these off,” you decided, feeling a growing frustration in your core. You needed his hands on you now. He nodded in agreement, slipping his fingers under the elastic before you could do it yourself. He hadn’t even finished getting it off your leg when he stopped to stare down at you. He shivered, exhaling with a trembling breath as he slowly reached down and parted your wet lips, revealing your pretty pussy for him. His hips bucked forward just slightly into nothing as he sat there, gazing pathetically at how wet you were. 

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “Touch it more.” You pressed his fingers flat against you, sliding them slowly through your slick. He shuddered, applying just a bit of pleasure over your clit as you guided him there. You sighed, your hips squirming a bit as a gentle pleasure flowed through you. 

     “So pretty,” he whispered, watching drops of thick slick drip onto the couch and hearing the soft squelch of your juices as he gently circled your clit. His head was beginning to hang as he focused on his movement. Eventually, you let go and allowed him to work you how he wanted. Touch you how he pleased. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and you gently pushed up back, holding his hair so he could see well.

     Your moans were soft like sighs and tiny whimpers until he stopped his light pressure on your clit and moved to your hole. He eyed you with each movement, worried he’d hurt you or do something that didn’t feel good. As he slipped a single, long, and slender finger inside, your eyes rolled back with a long moan, and his mind spiraled with how it felt. You were so thick and creamy and warm and tight. How could you have been hiding something so perfect from him?

     “Fuck,” he whispered, his finger pulling out before he could even put it all the way in. “Y/n,” he said with a strange determination. “I change my mind.”

     “What do you mean,” you sighed. “We’re already this far.”

     He grabbed you without a word and twisted you around so you were on top of him again. Only this time, he was laying on the couch, and you were sitting on his chest, your ass practically in his face.

     “Yunho!” you squeaked in shock. “What are you doing?!” You frantically turned around to look at him, but he was long gone, his eyes focused solely on one thing.

     “I don’t want to figure everything out right now,” he mumbled. “I just wanna get to the good part.” 

     “The good part,” you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing?”

     He lifted your hips and pulled them over his face, and your cheeks grew a deep red in embarrassment and confusion and so many overwhelming thoughts. You felt his warm breath against your core, and your thighs trembled, unsure of what to do. He gently pulled you lower until your pussy was aligned with his puffy lips. You whimpered as he gave you a soft kiss.

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, slowly lowering your chest to his stomach as your limbs started to grow weak.

     He licked a slow, fat strip between your lips, and you jolted at the wet, lude, so fucking pleasurable sensation. You raised your hips, your brows curling and mouth falling agape, but he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you back down with a long groan as he did it again.

     “Fuck,” you whimpered, your voice raising an octave as your entire body trembled in his hold. It felt so good, so vulnerable, but it made it feel even better. His soft vibrations as he breathed and groaned against your core… fuck he was so hot. “Keep going,” you mumbled, your cheek pressing against his bare stomach as you let the sensation take over your senses. He kissed you and licked you in that same area you’d shown him with your hands, rolling his lips and tongue over your clit with a gentle yet eager pressure. You had to grind your pussy against his mouth. For your sanity, you had to. You were moaning and whimpering with each rhythmic roll and lick and kiss. He was fucking drowning, and he loved it, and he was eating you like the sweetest dessert, desperate to swallow every last drop. 

     If it was so easy for him, though, it couldn’t be too hard for you either. I mean, it was just sitting there, straining against his pants. You couldn’t not be curious. 

     You mustered the strength to sit up a bit and fumbled with his pants until you unzipped the zipper and unbuttoned the button. It took you much longer than it should’ve, but your hands were fucking shaking, your eyes were watering, and your mind kept shifting back to the beautiful man lapping at your pussy. Fuck, it felt so good.

     But once his length sprung loose from his pants, you wanted it inside of you. You didn’t know how big was big, but Yunho was big. It was veiny and worked up from all of the teasing, and you wanted to make him feel so good. Make you both feel good by getting it deep inside of you. But, for now, you should return the favor to your hardworking man. 

     You wrapped an eager hand around him, not sure how much pressure to apply, but by the way his hips bucked up into your hand, you were probably doing something right. You moved from the bottom to the tip slowly, smiling slightly as you saw a little bead of precum at the top. Was he liking it? You were sure he’d like anything you did to him, but he was making you feel so good. You should reward him, right?

     You swiped your thumb over the tip and spread the new lubricant around, a soft squelch delighting your ears as you set a slow rhythm. His mouthwork faltered and turned more into heavy breaths against your core. His hips were trembling with little uncontrolled rolls into the air for more friction.

     “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, giving little kisses to your clit that sent gentle bits of pleasure throughout your body. 

      “You’re really big, Yuyu,” you whispered, licking your lips as you prepared to dive in for your treat. “You think I can take it all?”

     “I don’t know,” he sighed. “You’re so tight here. I can hardly fit my tongue in.” He gave a show of sliding his sopping tongue slowly into your clenching hole, and you whimpered, grinding your pussy pathetically on his mouth.

     “Just get me nice and loose, okay?” you panted. “I’m gonna get it all inside.”

     You flattened your tongue along its length, licking from the base to the tip before pressing the tip between your lips. He was so thick, stretching your mouth just slightly as you circled your tongue around him. His hands gripped your thighs with muffled whines as he opened you up slowly on his tongue.

     “You even taste handsome,” you mumbled before taking him in your mouth again.

     You pushed just a bit deeper, keeping your hands flat on his hips in case he felt too good and accidentally choked you on his handsome cock. Yunho’s fingers made your loose mouth tighten just a bit along his length as he inserted a finger into your tight hole, and he hissed lightly. As he set a slow pace, feeling around your drenched hole for anything that felt really good, you set a pace, too, with your little head bobs. Although you couldn’t go too far down, you stroked the rest of his length with your hand.

     He let out tiny gasps and low groans as you worked him toward ecstasy. And, fuck, you could feel it too. Everything was building up. He could hardly drink everything you were leaking as he pushed two fingers in, thrusting against your gooshy walls and pulling moans from your lips. The vibrations sent shivers of pleasure through him, which made him work harder. You were pulling each other toward climax quickly, but that’s not what you wanted.

     His fingers left your hole as your body lifted from his. You wanted the pleasure back as soon as it went away, but you knew there was something so, so much better waiting for you.

     “Fuck, this is taking too long,” you groaned as you flipped over until he was between your legs once again. 

     He giggled at your impatience, but his cock was practically begging for some sort of relief before it started hurting with how hard it was. You were both desperate, not even thinking anymore. Who cared if this was your first time? The feeling was all the same. You needed to be connected. Right fucking now.

     “Fuck, put it in,” you panted, pulling him by his neck flush against you. 

     He chuckled, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your ear. “It'll hurt, baby. Even I know you’re not ready.” You groaned as he pushed two fingers into your hole, setting a quick pace as he sensed your impatience. “I’ll give you what you want,” he sighed, “if you cum once.”

     Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” You scoffed. “You don’t want our first orgasms to be together?” You fluttered your lashes as he shook his head in disbelief. He pushed in another finger, and you tensed up a bit as he began to actually stretch you open.

     “This won’t be my first,” he whispered, scissoring his fingers against your walls as you breathed heavily against his ear, gasping out of shock and jolts of pleasure. 

     “Are you serious??”

     “Ever since Sannie mentioned us having sex, I’ve been so fucking horny,” he chuckled. “I think, like, every night, I went to the bathroom and came while thinking about you.”

     His fingers were almost forced out of you as you clenched down on them, a deep blush covering your cheeks as he glanced toward you teasingly. 

     “You like that?” he asked, curling his fingers up as he thrust them in faster and faster. Your head buried into the couch cushion as you panted and moaned, lifting your hips to meet his fingers desperately. The pleasure was building, and every time he fucked his fingers into that one spot, you thought you’d fall apart right there. When he finally figured out that perfect spot, he rammed his fingers into it repeatedly until you were gasping for air as your entire body squirmed, working toward that release. 

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” you whined, “Yunho~” He kissed you gently, nibbling on your neck as he grunted softly, using all of his strength to keep his rhythm as your eyes rolled back, body trembling. The pleasure built and built until everything fucking crashed, and your nails dug into his arms as you came with a long cry. He rode out your high, stroking your walls gently before pulling his fingers out quickly. 

     “Good girl,” he sighed, kissing your forehead as you whimpered, trying to calm down. Your eyes could hardly focus on one thing, your eyes fuzzy and brain scrambled. “I’ll give you what you want,” he mumbled. “Such a good girl…”

     His cock pressed against your hole, and it pushed just slightly inside. You winced, your eyes squinting at the oddly painful stretch. I mean, you knew it would be painful, but this was a bit unnecessary, right…? 

     Yunho stopped and lifted his head with a small smile on his lips, and, as much as it felt much better to stay still than to move, you wanted to get to the part that felt good. 

     “Baby, please?” you whispered, looking from one eye to another as you fought the urge to just get on top of him and put it in yourself.

     “Did I make you feel good?” he asked, pointing to his lips. “With my mouth?”

     You nodded immediately. “Yup, it felt so good.” It did, but that didn’t fucking matter right then.

     “You tasted really good,” he mumbled. “And your mouth…” he licked his lips, “...felt so good. So wet and tight.”

     “My pussy will feel even better, baby, please.” You didn’t want to whine or beg, but this was getting ridiculous.

     “Your pussy likes me, I think,” he thought aloud. “You know it flutters when I do something it likes. I wonder what that’ll feel like when I’m inside.”

     As his hips became flush with yours, you whimpered in slight confusion, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly confused, and also so, so fucking full. He was shivering softly, but you couldn’t find yourself having such small reactions. He was enveloping you completely, filling you to the brim, and your entire body was tense and limp, weak but so hyper at the same time. 

     Your fingers grabbed his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other, your mouth agape as you brought him closer frantically. You pulled his chest to yours, his face to your neck, your leg around his hip.

     It wasn’t because it hurt at all. It just felt so inexplicably good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted him to move so bad, but you couldn’t let him move or you'd completely lose yourself to pleasure. 

     “Yunho,” you whimpered, holding him tighter, desperately. “Yuyu, fuck… ’s so go..ood… j’s stay here… stay here, b…by, ‘s so good~”

     He could hardly understand you, but he was so glad you weren’t letting him move. He would cum right then and there. You were so tight. So tense, squeezing him like crazy. You were so warm and wet… It was clouding his mind. Even locked down like this, his hips couldn't help gently grinding against you, looking for any kind of friction. 

     He wanted to pound into you, fuck. He wanted to watch you go crazy. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Imagine what you’d look like, completely broken and fucked out, overtaken by your desire.

     “Can I kiss you, baby?” You nodded quickly, letting him lift his head so he could smash his puffy lips to yours. He untangled your limbs from his and wasted no time in slowly shifting his cock in your sopping hole. He groaned happily, rolling his eyes back as he ground inside of you in little pulses. 

     “Yuyu~” you whined. “Please, please, baby…” You kissed him hard before he could speak, desperately pushing your hips against him. “More... Fuck~” you whimpered, your fingers running through his hair as your tongues lapped and tangled together desperately.

     Finally… FINALLY, he set a rhythm, slow and trembling, as you panted against each other’s lips. He rolled his hips, his hips gently tapping yours with each slide in. He reached so far, your pussy tight around him, sending shivers throughout your bodies. You bit your lip as breathy moans escaped. 

     He cursed under his breath, whimpering as he kissed you lazily, picking up the speed of his thrusts. As your hips collided with more force, your moans matched the pace, and he basked in your pretty noises, hardly able to contain his own. 

     His hands slid along your body and squeezed your soft stomach gently, gripping you as he thrusted harder. “Everyday,” he groaned, kissing your ear. “We’ll do this every day.”

     “Okay,” you panted, your eyes rolling back with a squeak as he hit that perfect spot with a particularly hard thrust. “Mm… Yuyu… ngh~ you’re doing so good~”

     “Yeah?” he mumbled, sitting up on his legs. It was cold, but the sight of your tits bouncing, your fucked out expression… you were so ruined.

     “Yeah, baby~” you hummed.

     “I’ve wanted to fill you up for a.. hh… while now,” he grunted. “Thought about your pretty pussy taking my cock.”

     “Me too mmm~” His brows curled as he took steadying breaths. 

     “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

     “I wan’d t-to touch you s…o bad,” you moaned, pushing your hips in the air as his pace quickened, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. “Thought I was being bad,” you panted. “But yo…ou were being bad too, huh?” You tried to give a playful smirk, but it faded quickly. 

     He nodded eagerly, his head dropping each thrust and little noise from your lips brought him so close to cumming. He desperately brought his fingers to your clit, circling the nub until you were a moaning mess, practically screaming and gasping as he slammed his hips against yours. 

     “Cum, baby, please?” he begged, biting his lip as you fluttered around him clenching and teasing as you were getting so, so close. “Come on,” he whimpered. “Wanna f-feel you, please.. ngh~”

     Your hips were squirming, jaw dropped as the pleasure built. You could hardly see through your tears, your clit adding to the pleasure of each of his ecstatic thrusts. Fuck, you were so close… so close… fuck, it felt so good.

     “Yu-ngh yuyu ah~ baby, don’t stop,” you moaned, your eyes squeezing shut forcefully as your pleasure reached its peak for the secind time that night, your body spasming as you creamed on his cock, your juices spilling from your hole and soaking the both of you. 

     He stilled after a single thrust in your clenched, orgasm-filled hole, whimpering and moaning as his cum spilled into you. He was trembling as he kept cumming hard and long, both of you panting as you tried to calm down. Your hearts were beating, cheeks wet with overwhelmed tears. He pulled out with a shudder and collapsed beside you, pulling you to his chest as he was hit with the raw cold air.

     You were shivering, wrapped in his arms as you tried to clear your head. You were content there, your mind fuzzy and limbs trembling. You were both completely exhausted, but Yunho took the initiative to bring you both to your feet and drag your legs toward the shower. 

     He wiped you both up, laid you both down on the bed, snuggled up in your blanket, and you were both instantly asleep.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Y/n~ Yunho~” San whined as he trudged into your bedroom. “Jongho was being mean to me again~” 

     Your eyes were hardly opening when San was inviting himself onto the bed. But he stopped as he saw Yunho’s shirtless body wrapped around your shirtless body. He gasped, nearly falling off the bed.

     “Y/n!” he yelled, and Yunho was spooked awake, raising his head in shock with his eyes hardly open. “Did he force himself on you?! You can tell me! I’ll get him fucking killed!” He pointed at Yunho angrily, but you just rolled your eyes, snuggling back into your pillow.

     “Sannie?” Yunho mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing here? Did you have a bad dream again?”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     The van was rowdy and noisy when you and Yunho hopped in. You sat beside him with a giddy smile, holding his hand as you all rode to your hideout as usual. 

     “Aw~ they’re so cute,” Seonghwa cooed. “You guys are the ideal romance. So wholesome and perfect.” He grinned at you, and you blushed lightly.

     “Than-”

     “No, they have sex now,” Jongho interrupted. “Everyone knows that.”

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. Work on this IF will only properly start once Such Happy Campers is complete. A demo is not imminent. The working title is Reggie on the Run, but will most likely be changed.*

Story: You, an individual only known as Reggie Reese, are a criminal in the late 1800s. You find yourself stuck in a jail in Yellowhill, Letitia, where you are to be tried for your transgressions. Fortunately for you, a member of a prolific and feared local gang is brought in the same day. When the outlaw’s associates swoop in to rescue them, you too are given another chance at freedom. Before you know it, you are inducted into the strange and unusual band, most of whom appear to possess supernatural abilities.

Only, you were never exactly normal either…

Play as Reggie Reese (based on your choice of gender, this can either be “Regina”, “Reginald”, or simply “Reggie”, if you’re not one for the binaries)

Choose from four possible backgrounds that also determine the cause for your arrest! Play as a violent drunk, a highwayman or thief. More backgrounds may be added later

You have telepathic powers! Yay! Now, how to use that to get money…

Pick and name a horse from a selection of various breeds and personalities, bond with and care for it!

Face horrors beyond comprehension, and possibly end up saving the world

redeem yourself or become worse

Inspirations: Blood Meridian, Butcher’s Crossing, Red Dead Redemption 2, Lonesome Dove, and of course the actual Old West.

The Cast:

“Doc” — The Leader: You don’t know his real name. You don’t know where he came from. There are whispers about him having escaped from an exploitative freak show, though he’s certainly not forthcoming with any information. The one thing you do know is that he saved your life.

Age: 42

Power: Healing

Personality: Polite and kind (at least at first glance). Well-read and highly intelligent, idealistic.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders.

Horse: Silksong, a palomino Mustang.

Isaiah Wilder — The Berserker: A behemoth of a man who’s draw is as quick and deadly as his fists. You have never encountered anyone as bloodthirsty or as dogged as him. He ensures people fear the gang, and should intimidation prove insufficient, he’ll delight in mending that. 

Age: 37

Power: Superhuman strength and zombie-like constitution

Personality: Caring to the gang, absolutely heartless to everyone else. Brutal, cunning.

Romanceable: Yes, for female MCs (why you’d want to romance a literal monster is your deal)

Horse: Black Phillip, a black Missouri Foxtrotter.

Margaret Malloy — The Black Widow: Thrice married, thrice widowed. Her husbands have a tendency to throw themselves off of cliffs, it seems. What exactly she’s hiding behind her ready smile is for her to know and you to find out… at your own peril, that is. She often acts as a decoy for the gang.

Age: 33

Power: Persuasion

Personality: Harmoniously cheerful and sweet, with a love for all things shiny. 

Romanceable: Yes, for male and male-presenting MCs (you’ve been warned)

Horse: Freckle, a Leopard Appaloosa.

Hilda Heinrichs — The One Who Dances in the Creek: She’s a strange, strange woman. Perhaps the strangest you’ve ever met. A former prostitute, she fell in with Doc after he treated a gunshot wound she sustained after attempting to steal from a suitor. Oftentimes, she’s off in another world— literally.

Age: 30

Power: Spectral awareness

Personality: Hard to grasp. Her temper changes at the drop of a hat, like she’s a force of nature. But she’ll happily entertain the others by playing her banjo.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders

Horse: Virginia, a white Shire.

Francisco “Fran” Perez — The Gambler: He doesn’t talk much, barely at all, really. Maybe he doesn’t like you… or maybe he simply prefers the quiet. He’s eerily good at gambling, and even better at cheating people out of their money. His abilities are invaluable to the gang; he sniffs out most of their jobs for them.

Age: 26, the youngest of the gang

Power: Precognition

Personality: Calm, quiet, wary of strangers. Funny guy, once you get to know him.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders

Horse: Cielo, a brown and white Pinto with striking blue eyes.

The Strange Lady— ??: She hangs around a lot. You don’t know what to make of her.

Age: ??

Power: ??

Personality: Confusing.

Romanceable: No

*MC is gender-selectable, but has a locked-in name. The canon reason for this is that MC’s name, Reggie Reese, is an alias, and that MC keeps their true name a secret (at least from the public). The game is set in a largely fictionalized version of the Wild West. There are a great many parallels to actual historical events, but to avoid writing about still-existent locations and organizations (among other things), I have taken some liberties with worldbuilding. Also, it’s fun to pick fictional town and state names, for example Letitia and Yellowhill. 

TW: gore, discussions of trauma, ptsd, c-ptsd, mentions of SA and related trauma, mentions of period-typical prejudice and sexism, morally gray characters depending on how you play, downright homicidal characters, sex work. 

Dividers by @plum98

So. What y'all think?

[kingminie]

until forever falls apart | 01.

pairing: kim taehyung, reader 

genre: angst, exes au. 

warnings: emotional cheating, infidelity, swearing, detailed smut, chain smoking as a coping mechanism.

word count: 11.8k

description: you’ve never been much of a believer in the phrase ‘first love never dies’ but it seems as if the universe badly wants to prove it to you — and you’re absolutely and royally damned the moment you find out that the phrase holds truth. 

or alternatively, you come as a stand-in photographer for your cousin’s prenup shoot and you find out that it’s your secret ex who’s about to get married, and kim taehyung really doesn’t make it any less easy for you. 

01 | ongoing.

Love has always been easy for you — both falling into or getting out of it, but more of the latter, really. 

However, there are things about this so-called ‘love’ that you don’t quite get — will probably never get — and it leaves you in a sticky position when friends come to ask advice that roots from such a concept.

It always ends in a snotty mess and a sigh of I don’t know why I came to you for this at the end anyway. It makes you feel like shit; a clueless, ignorant, wondering piece of shit because how is it that everyone seems to have been looking at love and defining it from a single different lens with a unified perspective, and you’re stuck at seeing it from the other endpoint.

It isn’t your fault you don’t assimilate hurt with loving, is it? It isn’t your fault that you don’t expect to clean up a colossal mess every time love comes to its end. And it most certainly isn’t your fault that when love ends, you let it go. It ended, and that’s that. For you, anyway. So, why exactly, do people fault you for having such a reaction at the conclusion of a relationship?

Why does it seem to be a taboo and something that’s unheard of when a month after a relationship ends, you find yourself not grieving over a love that’s lost? When and why does it seem to have become the standard to mope and pine and cry as if acceptance and moving on is an outlawed concept right after a relationship ends?

That’s because you’re a heartless, unfeeling bastard, that’s why, as your best friend, Jungkook, so likes to put it every single time. And maybe, it is the defeat and the eventual acceptance that people will never see things in your perspective that you just roll your eyes and move on with your day. 

Love, for you, is something that ends when it ends. A wound that closes, heals. It leaves a scar, sure. You remember the hurt, yes. But the initial peak of pain wouldn’t be there again if it healed, would it.

With all that, you’ve become unsure — of what to do, of what to say, of how to act — when people lament over a lost love. Which, at this very moment, is what exactly your sister is doing. 

All tears, snot, and hiccups under your blankets. 

Sobs wrack her body in an uncontrollable shake, a vibrating mess under the sheets as you’re left to wonder what the fuck to do with your hands. But you never get the answer because she wails, head lifting from the blankets, “How could he do that to me? Six years, six years! Six years he threw away for what, a year of meaningless sex with his assistant?” 

You don’t really think it’s meaningless when dear, dear respectable Hyunwoo decides to break off the engagement, but you keep your mouth shut and continue to awkwardly pat your sister’s back. 

Your hand stills just an inch away from her back when she looks at you, wet eyes and mouth set in a downward curve, and whispers, “What should I do now?” She sniffles and you flinch. Because her goddamn snot is staining your bed but fuck, okay, you can’t think about that now, “I love him.”

You hesitate, weighing the words you’re about to speak in your head and thinking about the consequences before settling for a question, “You–you’re not thinking about giving him another shot if he asks for it, are you?” 

At this, your sister remains silent and you sigh because yes, yes she will give him a chance in one heartbeat if the bastard do so much as give her a fucking petal and a printed ‘I’m sorry’ hallmark note.

“You don’t get it.” 

Ah, there it is. 

Of course, it’s always going to come down to you not getting it. 

Maybe your sister sees it, the anger bubbling in your gaze as you glare at her, because she scrambles to sit down with her legs underneath her, knees parallel each other as she kneels on the bed facing you.

And it would have been funny, seeing your older sister like this, but the searing exasperation breaks through and you let it, mouth opening, “No, you don’t get it. See, this is not just a matter of moving the fuck on. He fucked you over, Hana, so much that there’s no amount of apology or groveling he can do to fix that. He fucked his assistant when he’s due to walk down the aisle in a year with you and if that doesn’t spell out how much respect he has for you, for our family, and you still choose to remain blind despite that, then you came to the wrong person because I won’t coddle you.” 

“I care about you,” your voice softens and you see her shoulders slump, “This is not just about my once-it-ends-then-it-ends view on relationships. Hyunwoo did an unthinkable, unforgivable thing and there’s no going back from that. I’m not letting you walk back to the person who lacks respect for a relationship, much less for you. Do you get where I’m coming from?” 

Hana nods meekly, head hanging low before you hear her sniffle once more. It hurts to see her like this and you want nothing more but to pummel the son of a bitch who did this to her, “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head and you let out a breath, all air knocked out from your lungs when she slumps forward, arms snaking around your shoulders as she pulls you in for a tight hug, the phrase of ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ a litany on her tongue.  You squeak as her legs slither their way around you in a tight grip and she lets out a weak laugh that sounded much more like a wheeze before you push her off, feeling a wet blot on your shoulder. 

“I want to be you for a day. Not like you,” she mutters as she gets comfortable on the pillows, your pillows, “But be you entirely. I want this pain to vanish in a week and just forget about him.” 

She pauses, “Maybe after I key his car.” 

The pain doesn’t vanish, you think and tell her. “I just learned how to deal with it, Hana. And it isn’t overnight that I do it. And you will get over it too. Heal from it. Someday, one day.” 

The silence that follows is comforting, and you think she must’ve fallen asleep, just as most do after a good cry. But she hasn’t, you realize, when she rolls over once more and speaks in a quiet voice, “The way you are right now,” she pauses, only continuing when you give her a nod, “is it because of him?”

There are only a handful of people that could fit about who she means, you know that, but you refuse to speak of any of them and opt to ask her a question instead, “Which way that I am exactly are you referring to?” 

“The closed-off you,” Hana replies, a soft tilt to her words, “I had a theory, you know, that you moved on so fast from the relationships you had after because you were never really invested in the people after him. That he broke you, enough for you to place that, whatever you have around your heart that doesn’t allow people to hurt you. You love other people, but you never really allow them to love you as much because of it which makes detachment and parting easier when it ends.” 

You don’t really mean to, but the words Hana speaks are like a vacuum, drawing you into a place you’ve managed to tuck away in the very back of your mind. Memories rush in and you drown in it — of honey blond hair, rectangle smiles, and skin that smelled of oakmoss and jasmine. 

“Am I right?” 

You let out a laugh as you nudge a pillow towards your sister, “You and your unending theories. No, Hana. It’s not because of anyone in particular. This is just how I am, how I think. It’s just unfortunate that it's only the minority that shares the same sentiments as I do.” 

Hana looks as if she’d try to refute before deciding against it, groaning when her phone rings and you raise an eyebrow because who in hell would be calling her at midnight. She shakes her head, twisting the phone around so you can see who’s calling and you see the word Studio and you shrug before she takes the call, only hearing snippets of the conversation and it seems as if it's about work. 

Hana owns a photography studio — a hobby turned business venture with her friends. Your parents were against it initially, deeming it a ‘not suitable’ business for Hana, but your older sister is a head-strong bull and proceeded with her plans without a single support from your parents and of course, because she’s Hana Park, she can make anything succeed if she puts her mind to it. 

“—yeah, you goof, I’ll be right there, don’t worry. Why are you so stressed about this anyway, is this your secret wedding or something?” You lie closer to your sister and she mouths ‘Jimin’ before returning to picking her nails, “I get it, okay. Stop freaking out, I promise to be there tomorrow. M’kay, bye.” 

She heaves a dragged-out, exaggerated sigh just as she tosses her phone on the bed where it bounced, “You know, I’d assume it’s our dear brother’s prenuptial photoshoot tomorrow with the way he’s freaking out over the details. I’d actually think that if I didn’t know of him and his single ass and his emotional attachment to his bachelor title.” 

“It’s Sunday tomorrow, and you’re booked because of that phone call,” You list, “So I can only assume Jimin knows one of them and used his connections to book your exclusive ass into working on a Sunday.” 

Hana laughs, “You’re not wrong. Soyeon made the reservation for November, which is like, a month from now. Jimin moved it for tomorrow in such a rush last week for reasons I don’t know why.” 

“Soyeon?” You gasp, eyes going wide, “You’re not talking about Yang Soyeon, are you? Oh my god, how did I not know about this?”

Your sister snorts, ungraceful and loud, “Who would have expected for the youngest cousin in the family to be the first one to be wed, huh? Date’s set for April next year and I don’t even know who she’s marrying,” But she pauses and a frown mars her features, “I would’ve been the first one to walk the aisle and yet, here I am.” 

Wait. 

“Hana,” you start, “aren’t you meeting Hyunwoo’s parents tomorrow for brunch? To formally call off the wedding? Isn’t that what you came here for tonight, because you were having second thoughts of actually calling it off tomorrow?”

You see the realization dawn upon her, her eyes widening in recognition of the planned confrontation, her mouth dropping to a comical shape of the letter ‘o’ before she sits up so fast you actually ask if her back’s okay and you hear the frantic hits of her nails against the glass of her phone, the worry leaking thickly in her voice as she speaks to multiple people, all of which ending in a frustrated sigh and groan from your older sister. 

“Fuck!” she screams as she disconnects from a call once more, “I can’t find anyone to replace me, everyone’s either booked already or have plans for tomorrow. Fuck, shit, I’m screwed. Jimin’s going to kill me. No photographer’s available tomorrow, what am I going to do now, I—you.”

You still, nailed in place by her stare, “Fuck are you looking at me for?” 

It’s in this moment you feel the doom coming down on you from all the corners of the universe when Hana smiles, actually feeling it that you shiver. She picks up the phone, calls Jimin, asks if 10 o’clock is okay for everyone to gather tomorrow, kisses your cheek good night. 

Kiss of fucking death, you feel like. 

You’re never a morning person — nor do you have plans to become one — and you aren’t used to being awakened by a goddamn wet, slimy tongue licking your face all over. 

Hana’s laugh echoes around your room, followed by hushed good job from her and a shrill bark from her dog (you really did not know how Orion arrived here when the dog wasn’t even here last night), and you are never one to have thoughts of murder so early in the morning but your family has really been testing your limits. But then you remember that you willingly handed over to Hana the passcode to your apartment, something for emergencies and shit like that, but of course, she took it as an invitation to come and go as she pleases. 

Fortunately, she cleans up after Orion’s mess, thank god. 

Rolling over, you prepare to squint as protection against the glare of the sun since Hana had already pulled back the curtains, but you sit up at the lack of the sun’s intrusion into your eyes and see that the sun hasn’t even risen yet. The city that you can see through the glass window is quiet, still in deep sleep. As you should be just before Hana woke you up. 

“Dad’s going to have a fit when I tell him what you’re blackmailing me to do,” you groan, falling back on your pillow, “I’m running his business and here you are making me take photos of people Dad hates, well, by extension.”

Hana does nothing but flash you a grin, “You’re the only one I can trust to be on par with my skills, honey. Besides, I already have Dad booked in the freaking out area ‘cause you know, I’m a bachelorette now.”

You roll your eyes and you move off your bed, making it neat and tidy to which Hana scoffs before grabbing the mug of cold coffee right from her hands and chugging it all down. Looks like you’ll need more than a cup with what you’re going to be faced with today. 

“Is Jimin coming? My car’s in the mechanic, I’m getting it tomorrow.”

Hana nods before telling you just how far Jimin is from your apartment, “About Jimin, actually.” Your sister trails off and you feel an oncoming headache because of course, there’s more. 

“I didn't exactly tell him I can’t make it today so I’m trusting you to, um, calm him down when he freaks? He’s only weak to your charms and absolutely immune to mine.” 

Turns out a little while after that, Jimin’s absolutely immune to the both of you. Especially you.

“No, what the fuck. What—no.” 

Jimin stands frozen, fingers gripping the edges of the kitchen island. His eyes are wide, mouth open in disbelief as he listens to Hana’s explanations of why she can’t go today, her eyes flashing as if to call you for help but you only shrug because there’s really nothing you can do to help her out of this. She made her own bed, might as well let her lie in it. 

It irks you quite a bit though when Jimin starts to become unreasonable despite Hana’s crystal clear explanation as to why she’s unavailable today, and on a typical day, you know Jimin would understand, and would easily let it go because obviously, Hana’s life matters take precedence over a photoshoot that can be scheduled on a different day. Jimin today, however, is extra adamant on not having you take over the shoot and it might have very, just very slightly struck the wrong nerve in you.

“You know, Jimin, if this is a matter of your trust in my abilities, I’d gladly back out of this. I’m doing this as a favor to Hana, I’m not here to help you,” you quip, tight and low as you regard the both of them, “So, if you refuse to accept my help, then call your friend to find another photographer, better yet schedule another one with Hana.”

Hana starts to protest but Jimin shakes his head, turns to you with soft eyes and a pouting set of lips, “I’m sorry, that came off wrong. Really wrong. I swear I wasn’t trying to undermine your abilities, nor am I saying that there is anything to undermine because you’re good as shit at this, maybe even better than Hana, it’s just that—”

He cuts off his ramble mid-sentence as if to catch himself — to keep from spilling whatever his reservation about you being the stand-in for Hana, which you don’t really know what. 

Three things about Jimin are these: he rambles when he’s extremely nervous, fidgets with his thumbs when he’s scared, and refuses to make any eye contact if he believes he’s done something wrong. It’s always one of the three when it comes to him and never altogether. And yet, he stands in front of you, doing all three simultaneously and your heart plummets to the marble flooring beneath you because what is he so scared of, really, to be like this in front of you. 

“Look, if you don’t want me to do this, that’s okay,” You start to speak and Jimin turns to you and opens his mouth to speak when you shake your head. You aren’t finished speaking, “That is, if you have an alternative, if Soyeon agrees to reschedule, I’m sure Hana can fit them right in some other time—” You give a pointed look at your sister who rolls her eyes but nods, “—but if they don’t, you have no choice, Jimin. Unless you want to take the photos yourself.”

Jimin lets out a breath, agrees, and proceeds to call whoever he needs to and converses in a low tone that isn’t discernible to you, but Hana can hear and your eyebrows furrow in concern when her head turns so fast towards Jimin’s direction, panic clear-cut in her eyes as she picks up on whatever it is that Jimin is saying. She curses under her breath, turns ghostly pale before she pulls Jimin into one of the guest rooms, leaving you to your thoughts and your second cup of coffee. 

“You kept this?”

It’s a good three minutes after that Jimin’s voice pulls you out of your trance — your attention previously held by the large black ant that is now on top of an apple. You turn and your breath hitches at the rough sketch of the overly-familiar Pomeranian in his right hand. You shrug, “Jungkook must have left it there when he came over.” 

At this, Jimin raises his eyebrows. Stares at the picture a little bit too long before putting it back in place, under Jungkook’s purple-pink painting of a sunset, to the right of Jimin’s present two years before. He then looks at you, really looks at you, that you become unnerved enough to look away and pretend to busy yourself with some imaginary dust on the counter. 

You know. You know how the framed sketch is too clean, too in place, and too taken care of to be something that your best friend accidentally left behind. And you know Jimin knows this too with the way his eyes turn to you and you fear. Fear that pity would be reflected in them and so you stand abruptly, deaf to the frantic calls of Hana and you head straight to the building basement and settle comfortably on the passenger seat of Jimin’s car. 

You ran because you’re a coward — afraid to face questions you know you have no answers to.

Jimin enters not a minute later, silent and mum, but the silent looks your sibling keeps giving you is not something you miss no matter how discreet he tries to be about it. You brush it off though, citing the tense atmosphere to be the reason he’s doing so. 

But little do you know that this is the first of the many mistakes you will be making — the tiniest among all others.

The theme is simple. Glamour, editorial-esque Vogue-spread motif. Fit for the rich. Something that exudes elegance and opulence. Classy, simple, and elegant. You nod as you skim through the print-out Hana rushes to get to you through one of her employees, one hand busy writing ideas and suggestions. 

It warms your heart that despite all the things Hana has to face today, she hasn’t failed to make everything easier for you, as she always does. And everything’s in accordance, just as they should be. That is, except for one, someone. Jimin really cannot stop himself from shaking and you actually fear the poor boy is turning into a leaf, dancing in the wind, with how he physically cannot stop himself from moving. 

You’ve had enough of it — his nervous fidgeting, the frantic scan of his eyes among the crowd, the unending bounce of his knees — so you move to approach him, just in time to pluck out the cigarette he’s about to light in his hand and he jumps, “Minie, you’re making me nervous here. I’ve seen you nervous but it’s never been this bad.” 

Jimin looks at you and your chest constricts at the face he’s making. A beat, two beats before he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry.”

You think of the exchange back at your apartment, the one where it came off as if he had no faith in you as Hana’s substitute and you let out a small laugh. You know Jimin would never think that. Flicking his chin, you shake your head, “It was me who took your words the wrong way, Min. You don’t need to apologize.”

He looks as if he wants to say more but a car pulls up, red and ostentatious with the way the roof is folded down, and you grin as you see your cousin, a matching upward curve to her lips. 

It isn’t new, really, when you catch sight of her hair — beautiful shades of cotton candy pink and pastel blue glinting under the sun. 

Beautiful, daring Soyeon, the darling of the Yangs. 

You nearly meet your end, though, that day if it isn’t for Jimin cursing and pulling you back when Soyeon isn’t able to stop her car at the designated yellow parking line and she too squeaks a wheeze when she steps on the brakes. The car comes to a stop, and you see her breath does too, before she throws her head back and laughs. 

“You’re fucking crazy.”

She sticks out her tongue before she jumps over the door, her flimsy taupe pants billowing after her. You only manage to let out a yelp of protest before she has you and Jimin in a bone-crushing hug and you feel your chest rasp to get some air in when she squeezes once more before finally letting go. 

“This is a two-people marriage we’re having today, right? You’re not marrying yourself here?” You ask and laugh as she rolls her eyes. It’s definitely her thing and it wouldn’t be a surprise if she did. “I didn’t even know you were in a relationship and now you’re getting married?”

She shrugs, a wide smile still on her lips, “It just happened,” Her eyebrows furrow when she looks over at Jimin who’s uncharacteristically silent and nudges him, “I still won’t forgive you. I know my groom’s your best friend but it doesn’t really give you a free-pass to have him here at six in the morning to get you coffee. Who does that?”

You don’t really hear what Jimin has to say to her because you’re bidding your goodbye to them both when one of Hana’s assistants — the one she had assigned to brief you over all the details of today’s shoot — pulls you from the conversation, apology written all over her face at the thought of interrupting you but as soon as she open her mouth to speak, you dismiss it with an its okay and you signal for her to go ahead. 

“This is the final list of the concepts Hana had brainstormed which one of the client is yet to choose from,” she hands you a thin stack of paper, a portfolio sandwiched between two clear binding covers, “The bride has already chosen the concepts she wants that are to be included for today’s shoot, so, all that's left is to hand the checklist to the groom for the shoot next week.”

Nodding, you skim through the portfolio and shit, it’s definitely good. 

You’re whisked away towards the building, directed towards the seventh floor of the rented building in which you’re told Soyeon’s groom is, handpicking his outfits for the day. 

You give the door a knock, hearing a bustle of people talking on the other side of the door, and when no one answers, you push the door open. You’re immediately greeted by a flurry of people walking back and forth, all of them either with stacks of paper in their arms or Brioni and Gucci suits in tow. 

It’s a mess, a downright mess you want to run from because you haven’t ingested enough coffee to face this. 

Which is exactly why you nearly cry when someone steps in front of you, a neat smile in place and a large cup of iced coffee in one hand, a hand extending towards you, “You look like you need this.” 

He tilts his head once, gesturing inside the room, “I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi. Jimin texted me earlier that his other sister is standing in for Hana and I assume that’s you.” 

Something feels vaguely familiar about Min Yoongi and you list it off as a passing name Jimin had mentioned in the stories he had told you. 

“There’s a meeting room on the very far left, grumpy groom’s there,” Yoongi smiles, “Nice meeting you, um—”

“(Y/N). My name’s (Y/N), nice to meet you too, Yoongi.”

You think as you walk that there’s no point in going over next week’s concept today since Hana can already make it by the next photoshoot and she would’ve understand better the dynamics of it all if they talk then, but okay, since you’re already here, might as well help all the way. 

Through the frosted glass of the meeting room, you see a silhouette, tall and broad. You have never been a people-person and meeting new ones really isn’t your strong point so you take three deep breaths, hand tightening on the cup of coffee Yoongi handed you, before pushing the glass door open. 

“Hi, I’m sorry I ran a bit late. It’s—” 

And you stop. 

You stop because you suddenly can’t feel the cold cup slipping from your grip. You stop because you feel the liquid pool at the very bottom of your shoes, sticky and wet and messy. You stop because you can’t breathe. You stop because your heart fucking stops too at the sight of Kim Taehyung. 

Beautiful, dazzling Kim Taehyung. 

First boyfriend, first love, now ex-lover, Kim Taehyung. 

Soyeon’s groom and soon-to-be husband, Kim Taehyung.

“Everything okay here?” Yoongi. You hear his footsteps behind you before you see him and you can’t be thankful enough at the interference that’s very much needed. 

But you allow yourself to be pathetic, just as you always are around Kim Taehyung. And because you can’t help it, frankly, when your eyes meet his and all sense that is good and common jumps out the window behind him. Because he looks fucking beautiful — him and his honey hair that’s now framing his face, a little bit longer, lighter. Because the room reeks of him, jasmine, vanilla, and oakmoss and it consumes you. The part of you that, despite it all, still longs for the Kim Taehyung from four years past.

On a good day and you meet him once more, you think you would have laughed. A fake smile and a head held high would’ve done it in front of him. But all it takes is one look now. One look, at the time when all your defenses are down, for the self-imposed chain that blocks it all to break and give, a domino effect in your mind as it all comes back; the whirlwind of feelings and emotions that the calamity of him brings forth. 

You nod, feeling the light touch of Yoongi’s fingers around your arm, and you anchor yourself with it. Pull yourself from drowning in him once more. “Yeah, sorry,” You breathe, “It slipped. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll have someone take care of it, don’t worry,” Yoongi waves you off when you bend down to start cleaning up your mess, nods toward Taehyung, “Go on, he gets grumpy if he’s left to wait.” 

Oh, you know. 

So, you do. 

You drag your legs to where Taehyung stands, feeling like you’re hauling wet logs for limbs. It’s silent, save for the sound of Yoongi’s shoes against the floor as he kicks at the fallen blocks of ice, and maybe, he takes the silence for Taehyung’s bout of pettiness because he hisses a quiet behave before he walks out. The silence becomes even more suffocating when now it’s just you and Taehyung. 

“So—”

“I—”

You shut your mouth when he speaks at the same time as you. 

You decide, though, to continue because you’re here for one thing and that one thing entails that you have something to say to him. But he doesn’t, he shouldn’t. 

“So, let’s talk about concepts. I’ve been told that Soyeon has already chosen the ones for today — for both your individual and couple shots, and you get to choose the ones for the shoot with Hana next week. Here,” you slide the portfolio across the table, taking a seat across his own without waiting for him, “Hana already made an outline for everything so, this, is basically a checklist you just have to choose from and—”

“How are you?” 

“—I’m just going to wait until you’re done filling them out so I can bring them back and start with—”

“(Y/N).” You finally look at him then and you look away the second you do because you’re trying so hard to keep yourself whole and you feel like one second more in his gaze and you’ll fall apart, “I’m sorry.” 

And you try. God, you try so hard to repress the tiny, evil voice that pushes you to throw reason out the window. But it comes out anyway, and there’s no stopping what flows out of your mouth after, “Why,” you laugh, “Sorry because you wouldn't have chosen Hana's studio if you knew I was the one to take your photos? Or sorry because you had my brother acting like a train wreck just to keep this from me? Don’t worry I won’t be here next week.” 

His face pinches, tongue rolling out to wet his lips, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then don’t apologize to me—” you grit, fists clenched and heart thundering, “—as if you assumed that seeing you has put me in a position that hurt me. Because it really doesn’t. Not anymore, Taehyung. So if you have anything to apologize for—” 

You cut yourself off because no, no he has nothing to apologize for. He doesn’t have to say sorry. One person deciding to walk out of a relationship doesn’t warrant an apology from them. An explanation, sure, but you don’t really need it from him. He made it clear enough all those years ago just before he slammed the door of your apartment shut that he just didn’t love you enough — not anymore then. 

It’s been four years. It’s been four long years and you should be over him — and you are, you’re certain that you are. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt because it does, fuck, it still hurts so much and you don’t know why. 

“—apologize to Jimin because I just know he feels like shit for lying to me because of you.” 

You commit your second mistake that same day in the middle of shooting Taehyung’s individual photos. Soyeon had gone for a nature theme this time and so you find yourself in the middle of the forest with a near-naked Taehyung in tow and thank heavens it rains because one more glimpse through the viewfinder at his well-oiled torso and you might have combust and run away from the photoshoot, Hana’s reputation be damned. 

Jimin seems to be attached to you now, becoming a human magnet not long after he had apologized so much he knelt, snuggling to your side every chance he gets that it’s suffocating you because he’s overcompensating but you don’t really have the heart to call him out. Not when he looks like a puppy whose tail got accidentally stepped on when you get around to even do so much as try. 

So, you let him become your shadow for the time being, finally letting out a huge breath of relief when lunch time comes around and everybody takes a break and you slip past him to the very back of the dilapidated cabin you stumbled upon just before the last shoot ended, not too deep into the forest that faces the river. 

Finally, you think, as you savor the peace, even though momentary. You’re glad to be away from the commotion and it makes you realize once more why you choose to be cooped up in an office. It’s because you really can’t handle this many people and it physically and emotionally drains you that you can’t think.

You pause when you reach into your pockets, the gritty warning from Hana and Jimin an alarm ricocheting in your mind how it’s an unhealthy habit and it’s going to fucking ruin you someday. But the short-lived guilt is replaced by justifications of how it’ll be a free-pass and your siblings can fuck off because they’re the reason you’re here in the first place. 

Besides, burning through one stick won’t hurt them if they don't know. 

So you let your fingers feel for the familiar leather case, pull the only stick inside and you’re so, so close to reaching your sweet release from this damned mental pressure when you realize you left your lighter at home. Letting out a curse, you clamp your mouth around the unlit cigarette, letting it hang and opting to indulge in its semi-sweet smell that goes so well with the rain. 

“Want a light?”

You still, the cigarette falling from your lips at the sudden fright. Down, down, and down until it’s washed away by the rain. What a waste, you lament. Sighing, you turn and see Taehyung who’s sporting a sheepish smile, the same familiar white in between his own mouth, lit unlike yours, “I’d accept, but there’s really nothing that needs lighting anymore.”

He has a shirt on now, you notice, flimsy and buttoned up halfway. His hair is tousled messily, now free from the rigid form it previously had, and you give him your back when you feel the urge to fix the fraction of hair that has fallen forward. You hear him take a drag and you smell before you see the tendrils of gray smoke when he releases and god, the small whiff, even in the tiniest fume, has your shoulder relaxing. 

“I’d offer one but I don’t have any spare with me,” you hear him say before you feel him move, “I’ll get the fallen one for you, if you want.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off before you see him lean against the other column, the change in position means that he’s now closer, closer than he’s ever been since the day you last saw him, years ago. And he’s close enough that the thin material of his shirt brushes against your hoodie when the wind moves. And you want to move too, only if it isn’t for the fact that one move and you’ll either fall into the river or be skewered by the worn down wood and you don’t really feel like dying today. 

Ironic, how you went for a smoke break to relieve the stress of the day, only to have it doubled. 

Now, this is where you make the second mistake. 

Because you really don’t mean to stare at Taehyung. You don’t mean to let your stare at his mouth linger a second too long that he sees.  It’s just unfortunate that the cigarette is in his mouth, and you stay fixated on the damn cigarette that you fail to see him catch your gaze and hold it. 

It’s unfortunate that you don’t take a step back when he takes one step forward. 

It’s unfortunate that you become pliant when his cold fingers softly grip your chin, coaxing your mouth to open and welcome the smoke that he blows from his own mouth, hot and intoxicating and tinged with the memories of all the nights past that he’s done this. 

It’s unfortunate that you take a long drag when he places the soft end of the cigarette from his mouth to yours, unhesitating and eager. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, gentle as he pulls the stick, planting it back to the hold of his mouth. You see a slight upward curve at the corners of it. 

This is bad. Wrong and unacceptable and absolutely inappropriate, you know. But you can’t help but accept when he offers one more drag, an offer of release. This time you pluck it out from his fingers, feel the warmth of him around the smoke, and inhale. 

It’s only when the embers die out that you feel it, the heavy feeling coming back tenfold as you realize the gravity of what you just did. Not for anyone else, but for you. The toll this will have on you when you go home and have all the time in the world to think about your stupidity. So before you get sucked into the void of self-destruction, you excuse yourself, not caring about the delicate drops of rain that fall but not before you turn back and shout your thanks. 

“Okay, you shared a smoke, so what,” you mutter to yourself as you dry yourself off. You’re two people who share a history, a history that’s now dead and gone. A flame that was once bright but has now burned out, never to be rekindled again. 

You enter the building with thoughts of rationalization that tries to justify what you’ve done as something harmless, clouding your mind enough that you don’t see Jimin barrel towards you with a smile on his face, only to be replaced with disgust when he breathes and chokes at the ghost of smoke that clings to your clothes. 

He rummages through a nearby luggage and returns with a bottle of perfume, “If you want your head still attached to your shoulders by tonight, you’d know better and douse yourself in that shit because Hana’s here to take over and you only have two minutes to shove Listerine down your throat before she finds you.” 

In the haste of trying to avert your sister’s wrath, you damn near shower the entire contents of the bottle, only to realize that night when you come home that despite the endless showers you take, you still smell like him. Because of all people, Jimin just had to take from Taehyung’s things and now you’re doused with him all over again. 

It’s later that night that you’ll fall asleep to the smell of jasmine and vanilla despite years of trying so hard to rid your apartment of any scents. 

Of any trace of Kim Taehyung.

The third and fourth mistake, you make five days later. A Friday that you’re miraculously off work early. Well, technically, you can get off whenever you want but as the faithful, loving, and overworking youngest child that you are, you’ve assimilated longer hours at your father’s company to productivity and so you’ve never really found reason to clock off early when you can do so much more if you stay a bit later than most.

Besides, the company won’t run by itself, so there’s that. 

Now, though, you wonder why you thought like that because as you walk down the street, everything looks divine. The setting sun settles on the horizon, sandwiched between two skyscrapers, bleeding purple and orange and pink and it’s breathtaking. Painfully so. For the first time, you indulge yourself in the sounds of the busy city and for a change, it’s peaceful despite the loudness. You can’t remember the last time you took a stroll like this, having been so immersed in work. The last time you walked down the street the like had been years ago, with—

The breath you take is sharp and sudden that it has you bent over on the sidewalk, coughing and wheezing your lungs out that people start to look. You flash a smile, sending a quick thanks to your sister’s ex-lover for choosing to establish the studio within a five-minute walk from the company building, and nearly combusting on the spot when you pull their glass door that clearly says push right after you nearly heave your lungs out from climbing 10 sets of stairs because the elevator isn’t working, coincidentally.  

“Hey,” you greet the people on the lounge before specifically turning to Younha — the one who had walked you through everything on the previous shoot, “Is Hana here? I have the initial photos ready if she wants to see. Played around and edited most of them.”

Younha looks sheepish as she raises her hand to her nape where she nervously scratches, “About that,” she grimaces, “Hana phoned earlier that she’s running a bit late tonight so she told me to look over the photos and pick the final ones with the client, but I don’t trust myself enough to do that just yet, so would it be okay if we go through it together?” 

You assure her it’s okay. And really, it is, because you’ve finished work anyway and it’s a Saturday tomorrow. You can afford to be late an hour or so. You watch her plug the USB on one of the computers lined up against the wall, see her gasp when she pulls up the photos. 

“Oh my god, these are beautiful. You’re telling me you shot each of these by yourself, edited them all on your own, all in less than a week,” Younha turns to you, eyes wide, “Can’t you come and work with us?”

You laugh, genuine and loud, “The raw files were already beautiful untouched. Just touched up some lighting here and there.”

“Yeah, and who took those raw shots, hm? Who coordinated every single thing that resulted in those shots looking like that? You, that’s who,” Younha seems to realize who she’s talking to and she blushes before muttering something else you can’t hear, “Also, about Hana—” 

Uh-oh. This can’t be good.

“—so she told me earlier if I can pick out the final photos with the client, right? And since you’re here,” Younha trails off and you still there is no way, no way that you’re going to sit hours dissecting each photo with Soyeon, worse if it’s Taehyung. You have your pride and you’ll cling to that even if it’s the last thing you do in this world.

No way in hell. “Hana’s on her way here, right? I think she can make it.”

Younha nods, a low hum before she answers, “She can. In two hours. Maybe. Not sure. Our client, however—” She tilts her head to the right. Towards the direction of Hana’s office. “—is here.”

It’s a sigh of defeat you let out. Walking away from here means you admit you’re a coward, walking in Hana’s office will mean you’re weak. See, it’s always a lose-lose thing for you everytime a certain Kim is involved. The very, and only, Kim who seems to be haunting every part of your daily life the past five days. Or in this current case, a future Kim but a Kim nonetheless. 

Younha smiles, the sly fox, when you place your bag back down on the table, “If I’m going to stay here for the night, might as well ask for coffee. Lots and lots of it.”

You only barely get the full sentence out but Younha is already on her heels with a mock salute.

You push the door to Hana’s office, making sure (twice) not to pull this time, and your eyes land on Kim Taehyung whose eyebrows rise in surprise upon seeing you. If he thinks you’re meaning to keep on meeting him like this, well, he’s wrong. The universe likes to spring surprises down your path of life and it just so happens that for now, Kim Taehyung might be its play thing — to torment you with, most probably. 

He sits on the couch that rests against the white wall, beside the windows that occupy the whole one side of the room that overlooks the city. Hana’s office is more like her office and a miniature studio, exclusive for her and whoever she decides to let in here, separate from the lounge and the main studio. It’s an industrial loft, made modern and more suited to her taste and it’s just so goddamn bright in here, you realize.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you mutter as the door clicks shut behind you. 

You head straight to Hana’s computer, turning it on and plugging the USB before you plop down on the office chair. “I had the photos with me and I dropped by to leave it for Hana but she apparently has things to attend to for the next two hours and you’re here already so, yeah.”

Taehyung only nods, silent and awkward when he stands. 

You sigh, “Grab a chair and come here, I guess. We have, like, a thousand photos to sift through. See if you’d like any changes done to them. The earlier we finish, the better.”

Three hours pass after that and you’re left with no Hana in sight, 325 file numbers listed down, a faint headache and tired eyes, a hungry stomach, and three accidental brushes of Taehyung’s hair on your cheek because what before is a ruler-long distance between the two of you has been reduced to mere centimeters, and Jesus Christ, you don’t know who moved between the two of you that it has come to such. You’re firm to say it isn’t you because your ass remains frozen, stiff as a board everytime Taehyung does so much as inhale. 

“Can you—” Taehyung clears his throat, pointing to the keyboard, “—move to the next one, please.”

You mutter an apology, pressing the right arrow and you see the photo move. Frankly, you aren’t paying attention. Not to anything, least of all the photos. It’ll be like knocking consciously on Hell’s door if you do pay attention. 

Because you can take being around Taehyung, you can easily detach yourself from reality when you are — and not feel anything, to look at him alone and think of him as an ex-friend, an ex-lover without the rest of the titles attached. But to look at the photos, the pictures you took, there’s no detaching from that reality. The reality that the man you had feelings for — might still have feelings for, but you push that thought back — is getting married, of all things. 

And you list this off as feeling weird, an ex marrying a cousin. You aren’t jealous, god, no. It’s just that — weird. Well, you think. 

“Okay, I can’t take this anymore,” Taehyung breathes and you still, unmoving as the statue on the corner of the room, “I’m going to order Chinese. I’m not going to last the rest of these photos if I don’t eat. Anything you want?” 

He might as well have slammed the mouse he’s holding with the way he casually lets it fall off from his hand to the table, leaning back on his chair and oh god, his head is leaning on the back of your chair. One move of your shoulder and the back of it will touch the side of his head. He has his phone over his head, elbows hanging in the air as he opens his phone with a click. He hums as he scrolls and this is so, so painfully domestic that you struggle to breathe. 

It’s been push and pull the whole night. He asks, you answer, and never the other way. 

Fifteen minutes that you’re plunged in deafening silence and you punch the air in your mind when Younha knocks, take-away bags at hand and a smile on her face. 

Taehyung hands you your food, places the utensils in neat order, pokes the straw through your bubble tea and gently places it in front of you and you stare. You stare because never in your life did you ever think you and Taehyung would ever be in this situation. Toeing around each other, walking on eggshells. 

There had been a time that silence wasn’t an option — it’s either you filled the quiet or he did; mouths off about Pokemon and stickers and dogs he met on a certain day, or silence filled with wordless communication through flesh and skin and heavy breaths. 

Never this — a fragile silence that no words could ever fill. But of course, Taehyung knows how to break that. Break you when he speaks, “I think we’ll have this one framed for the reception.”

You blink at the photo on the monitor, big and taunting. In it, Taehyung smiles, a wide rectangle stretch of his mouth as his chin rests on top of Soyeon’s head, the latter leaning her weight on Taehyung. It’s evident, palpable even, the happiness that’s shared between them. A running joke between the two of them captured on a permanent photograph only they can understand. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a smile, or an attempt at it, stretching your lips, “it’s beautiful. Definitely worthy for the reception. You can hang it in your home after.”

It’s an instinct – you’d like to believe so – when you feel Taehyung move beside you and you mindlessly mirror him, freezing the moment you take in the miniscule space that’s left as you both huddle to look at the monitor. A good couple inches you can count on one hand. And you refuse to move away because no, this is not at all affecting you. And it’s Taehyung, you justify, who’s currently invading your space. 

The third mistake is when you try to steal a glance at the corner of your eye because you think he’s engrossed with the picture. 

But then you see that he isn’t. Not when his stare locks with yours the moment your eyes move.  Had been on you all this time. 

The fourth is when he moves and you don’t. 

Not when his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth to wipe whatever it is he sees there. 

Not when he flashes you a smile – something so fond and warm and tender that renders you mute. 

Not when he succumbs to sleep an hour later, head lolling on your shoulder.

But the entire world moves when he stirs and the overhead lights hit something golden. It crumbles and caves beneath your feet when a locket falls out of the top of his loosely buttoned shirt. An identical locket to the one that now sits heavy on your chest – once heavy with the broken promises, but now empty of the love that first came with it.

You see his forehead wrinkle as he slowly wakes and you feel the start of the burn that first settles on your chest before it moves and starts from the corners of your eyes. You train your eyes on the monitor, fingers clicking away on the mouse and the keyboard faster than ever.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him say. His head stays on your shoulder as he speaks. “What time is it?” 

“Quarter before ten—”

“I missed you,” he breathes and you hear him let out a soft laugh before he whispers, “I always miss you.”

It feels as if all the air in your lungs has been knocked out and you turn to speak when you see that he’s fallen back asleep. And god, you wanted to shout at him, let out the years of pent up frustration and grudge you’ve had all these past years and ask all the unanswered whys and hows. But looking at him now, after so, so long, you realize you do too. 

A tear drops and a multitude of realizations follow. 

You missed him. You missed him. You miss him. 

And fuck, you’re still in love with him, you realize. So much and enough to make you not think of the consequences of the realization that you do.

Not when his fiancée finally comes and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

Not when a wedding invitation lands itself on the desk towards you.

And especially not when the ghost of him lingers when they’re gone and you find yourself praying for it to stay just a little bit longer.

You did not plan for your Friday night to be like this at all. 

The initial – and final – plan was this: show up to the club your sister wanted you to show up to, make it look like you’re genuinely happy to be there, flee the moment midnight hits when your sister and her friends are too drunk to realize you aren’t there anymore, and sleep away in the solace your tranquil and quiet apartment offers. 

The night and plan had been going well, much to your delight. 

Just until the fleeing part, that is. Because the moment you press the unlock button to your car half past one in the morning, you see a very drunk Kim Taehyung eagle spread on the hood of your car, with only a rumpled halfway-buttoned shirt that’s tucked into his pants, one of his shoes already on the roof of the Mercedes. 

And so instead of proceeding to the sleeping part of your plan, here you are now, struggling under the weight of Taehyung as you try to push in all his limbs in the passenger seat because he refuses to go away. Why, of all people, must you be the one to find him like this? Other people would’ve paid no mind leaving him on the pavement but of course, the universe had to make sure it just had to be you because old, cruel fate had it out for you and your demise.

Two weeks spent in isolation from the rest of the world in an attempt to justify and get over the realization you had of still being in love with an ex and the world just dumps him in the hood of your car of all cars. 

“Kim Taehyung, I am not above violence, I will fucking knock you out if I have to if you step your foot out and kick me once more, for the love of god,” you heave, “Are you with Jimin?”

At this, he grins and nods, eyes half-closed, “Jimin went home. I think. Or wait, maybe he’s passed out in Yoongi’s tub. I think. I don’t know, do you think he’s still here? Wait, do you know Jimin? How do you know Jimin?” 

You sigh, “Give me your phone. I’ll get Soyeon to pick your ass up.”

Taehyung lets out a loud gasp, proceeds to choke on air before he looks up at you, “How do you know my girlfriend?” 

You pause for a second before rolling your eyes, “Phone.”

“It’s in my left pocket, can you get it for me? I’m so tired,” he whines, wincing as his head lands on the head rest. You reach over to pull his phone out, only to retrieve a pack of cigarettes but no phone. You freeze when his hand grips your wrist that’s still in his pocket, feeling your heartbeat in your ears when he leans forward, so close that you feel his breath on your cheek, “Butt pocket, sorry.” 

You take a deep breath as he continues to look at you with a grin. You move closer, angling your head away because you would be fucking cheek-to-cheek if you don’t and you pause just before you touch his back pocket, “No, you know what, you can get it yourself. Either that or I leave you out here on the streets.” 

Taehyung pouts but he moves his arm behind him nonetheless, proceeds to feel his other pocket when he finds the first one empty.

“My phone’s gone,” he huffs, “Oh! It’s in Minnie’s car!”

You let out a loud groan, rounding the car to open the driver’s side to look for your bag so you could use your phone and you let out another sound of frustration, louder this time, when you remember the picture of a beige bag being left underneath your couch’s pillow. You look over at Taehyung, a war in your head as to what to do with him, before you finally settle on the choice that you never, ever think you would’ve made. 

“Fine,” you grit as you turn the engine on, “I’m going to drop you off your house but I’m not gonna be held accountable for the reasons you’re going to have to explain to your girlfriend if she greets your drunk ass as to why the fuck her cousin’s dropping her fiance off, alright? Now, are you still staying in the same apartment ‘cause I’m going to drop you–”

Taehyung snores, body folding in on himself as he slightly shivers. You sigh, dropping your forehead on the steering wheel, enough to hurt and make the horn whine, “This is fucking unbelievable. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Hey, Taehyung,” you shake him, poking his shoulders the way you know he hates, “Wake up and tell me your address, asshole. I’m not driving to the other side of the city only to find out you changed address. Hey.” 

He makes the tiniest wave of his arm before he goes back to sleep. 

You glance at the clock that says it’s now nearing three in the morning and you run your hands over your face because fuck this. 

Now, you head to your apartment with the plan of just dumping Taehyung in the foyer and letting him sleep there until he has his mind back in the morning – you figure he’d probably run off the minute he wakes up. 

“Hey, wake up.” You nudge him when you arrive and you sigh once more as he merely stirs, opening his side of the door before attempting to move out of the car only to heave when the seatbelt he still has on pulls him back.

With a grimace, you round to his side and lug one of his arms around your shoulders and basically carry all of his weight towards the elevator. You give a tight smile to the staff at the reception as you pass by, dismissing the offer of help. You nearly drop to your knees as soon as the elevator doors close, exhaustion flooding you all of a sudden. 

As soon as the door opens to the penthouse, you remove your hold on Taehyung and he slumps against the wall. You let out a breath before pushing him to one of the guest rooms where he immediately plops down on the bed after knocking his shoes off.  A small smile plants itself on your face and you reach over to pull the covers over him. 

Kneeling down on the floor beside the bed, you brush off the loose hairs that cover his face and you whisper, “You’re making it so hard for me.”

Deciding that you’ve helped him enough, you head to your room to change and shower – a long bout of internal battle against yourself as you try to wash off all that happened. 

It is an hour later when you’re already in your bed, tossing and turning that you find yourself a long way from sleep, and so you push the covers off of you to head towards the kitchen to find something to drink. The sun is starting to rise, you see, as you stare at the large windows, uneasy at the thought that Taehyung is there. Here. 

And you know you shouldn’t care anymore. You’ve done enough and beyond to help him, you remind yourself. But that doesn’t matter, really, because here you are, pushing the guest room open to check on him, a bottle of water in hand. He remains as he was the second he got here and you sigh as you pull one of Jungkook’s shirt and sweatpants from the cabinet, a spare he leaves in the case he unintentionally sleeps over, and you walk towards Taehyung before slowly shaking him awake. 

“Hey,” you speak softly as his eyes crack open, mind still swimming in alcohol, “you should change into this. Your clothes must be uncomfortable to sleep in. Here’s some water too.” 

His eyes open a little bit wider, voice hoarse when he speaks, “(Y/N)?” 

You swallow, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

“I can’t remember most of tonight, how did I—”

You smile, “And you probably won’t remember all of this when you sleep once more. Just change and drink this, Taehyung.”

A part of why you’re doing all the things you’re doing is the fact that you know he will forget this. 

He sits up, swaying as he does so, twisting the water open. You greet him good night, and just as you turn to head back to sleep, his hand dart out to grip your wrist – as tight as the grip that has your heart beating so loud in your chest as he does, “I’m sorry.” 

Without turning around, you answer, “You don’t have to be. I would’ve done the same for anyone else.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have.” 

Pressing your tongue against your cheek, you rip your arm away from his hold, now turning around to face him. He slowly stands, eyes trained on you. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, “I’m not saying sorry just because of tonight,” he speaks quietly, “This is an apology that’s long overdue. An apology I never had the courage to give you. An apology that I owe you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being the coward that walked away without an explanation. For not being the person I promised you I would be.”

“I told you,” you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t owe me an apology, Taehyung. It’s over and done with. Apologizing to me would mean that there’s still loose ends between us, and I’m telling you that there’s none. You may have burnt those ends the moment you walked away and I have burned mine in the years that followed. You don’t owe me anything.”

He’s closer now, so close that you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and his perfume. “Then why are you still wearing this?” 

You feel all the walls come down, then, when his fingers trace the golden chain of the locket. The once emblem of young and promised love, of an oath, of Kim Taehyung. The necklace that never was once removed from you since then. 

You chuckle, bitter and harsh, “You’re still wearing it too, Kim.”

You flinch as you feel the pad of his thumb wipe away at the trail of tears that has somehow escaped, “Leaving you was the only choice I had then. It killed me to walk right out of that fucking door but it was the only choice. For you, for me, for us. Even if it meant me becoming the asshole, it was the only choice.” 

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, you left me. And in my vocabulary and everyone else’s, leaving the person you claim to love without a single explanation is a shit move,” you nearly damn snarled, “I could’ve accepted you telling me you didn’t love me anymore but you fucking walked out without a single word. Well, I guess it worked out great for you, huh? You’re getting married now.” 

“I did l—”

“Don’t fucking dare say it,” you sob, feeling all the energy draining out of you in a second, “You’re four years too late, Taehyung.”

The chains that hold all the hurt and grievance of the past four years had been unlocked and with the thought of Taehyung not being able to remember this tomorrow, you let it all out. 

“I lied,” you whisper, lips and chest shaking as you breathe, “It hurts me seeing you now. So fucking much. Because you never wanted to get married. I remember when we were together you said that we could live without the titles, the labels, and the technicalities of it all, because you’d love me the same. So yes, it hurts. I can’t deny that it does when the things you didn’t want with me, things I wanted to have with you, you learned to want with someone else. Shit like this hurts because even if I was okay without all the titles, I thought then that spending a lifetime with you wouldn’t be so bad. But you made it seem like you never wanted marriage, not with anyone ever and so I accepted it, content even with just being with you.”

“But then you show up like this,” you say so quietly you don’t know if he can hear it, “You can’t expect it not to hurt, Tae, because it does. So, so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung lightly rests his forehead on yours, “I’m so sorry.”

“Answer me this one question,” you look up at him, “Please.” 

You feel him nod, “Anything.”

You feel it again, the suffocating claws that grips around your chest, the pain of unanswered questions and doubts, “Was my love not enough for you?”

You feel it before you hear it, when he nods against your head, hands coming up to hold your cheeks, “No, no, god, no. It was more than enough. It was so much more than enough that you became someone who didn’t deserve someone who couldn’t reciprocate the amount of love you were giving me. I’m sorry.”

“I miss you, Tae.” You whisper, and you can barely see him through the tears, “And it’s so, so wrong and I shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, I do. Four years and I still miss you and now you’re here, back in my life, and yet you’re still the farthest you’ve ever been from me.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he is – so far away from you and will never be close enough anymore – that you think maybe this is the long-awaited end. The closure you’ve once longed for but never had. Maybe there really was no reason for him leaving you beyond the fact that he didn’t love you anymore – and maybe that was enough reason. You just didn’t want to accept that fact. Maybe it’s time that you do. 

After Taehyung, you’ve become someone who believed that love is something that’s easy to let go, when in fact, all this time, it is the love you had for Taehyung you’ve never let go of. And maybe, it was never love for the people that came after him and so it became easy for you once it’s over, once it ended. Because what has started that really counted has never reached its end, for you anyway. Because it will never be the same. 

Because they weren’t Kim Taehyung. 

“Don’t cry for me. I don’t deserve it,” he smiles a small smile as he wipes a tear away. 

“Then stop making me cry, asshole,” you softly retort, hands coming up to wrap around his own to pull them away from your face. You can’t think straight when he has his hands on you, “I’m not asking for you to love me again, not anymore. Maybe we could be friends?”

It’s a weak attempt at humor, you know. And you really don’t think you can be just friends with Taehyung. But you’re weak for Kim Taehyung and you’re still so fucking in love him that you’d settle for whatever there can be between the two of you. He doesn’t need to know the specifics.

“Can we, really?” He laughs softly, a sad smile appearing, “I’m about to do something very stupid, for the very last time, so please, stop me if you don’t want to because I don’t think I can stop myself.”

He leans forward as the inches between you decrease down to a zero, his lips pressing against your cheek, your forehead, your eyelid, and to the corner of your mouth before he pulls away. “No, you had something to drink too, I’m drunk, you’re drunk. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, ” Taehyung breathes against your cheek, eyes shut tight. 

“I’m not.” 

Whether that’s an answer that refutes your state of intoxication or a statement that debunks Taehyung’s apology, you don’t know. Because the next moment finds you pulling him forward, arms snaking around his shoulders as you kiss him. Soft and unhurried and sad – a declaration of what had remained unsaid for the past years. 

The last time, you swear, and from tomorrow then on, you’re going to be friends. This night will be void – forgotten and discarded. Taehyung is going to continue with his life and you with yours. 

It’s so easy to become so lost in Taehyung that you forget the rest of the world. 

That you don’t hear the sound of the door opening. 

Or the second set of drunk footsteps that follows the first one.

“What in the fuck is going on here?”

[nemesyaaa]

i love you mean!rafe, soft!rafe, dark!rafe, bsf!rafe, bf!rafe, toxic!rafe, sweet!rafe, sugardaddy!rafe, frat!rafe, pogue!rafe, pornstar!rafe, pervbsf!rafe, sensitive!rafe, dark!rafe, crybaby!rafe, dark!soft!rafe, kook!rafe, drugdealer!rafe, fwb!rafe, stepbro!rafe, older!rafe, jealous!rafe, heartless!rafe, clingy!rafe, slut!rafe, killer!rafe, kind!rafe, outlaw!rafe, cowboy!rafe, prisoner!rafe, criminal!rafe, camp!counselor!rafe, vampire!rafe, photograph!rafe, protective!rafe, possessive!rafe, teacher!rafe, lovely!rafe, dad!rafe, husband!rafe, bassist!rafe, guitarist!rafe, mean!bf!rafe, childhood!friend!rafe, crybaby!rafe, bratty!rafe, skater!rafe, pirate!rafe, demi!god!rafe, soldier!rafe, villain!rafe, manipulative!rafe, biker!rafe, actor!rafe, sexfriend!rafe, stalker!rafe, no!social!media!rafe, driver!racing!rafe, boxer!rafe, supportive!rafe, dbf!rafe, ex!boyfriend!rafe, babydaddy!rafe, bodyguard!rafe, onlyfan!rafe, pervy!rafe, jedi!rafe, fighter!rafe, tattoo!artist!rafe,.........(too lazy.)

you're the only barbie in the world !!

[heavenlymorals]

The Deeper Meaning of Loan-Sharking

Warning: spoilers for both Red Dead games

The complexity of RDR2's story blows me away every fucking day because oh my god- the characters, the themes, the symbolism, the call backs to other medias and so on and so forth.

But here is one thing that stuck with me when I realized it for the first time-

The deeper meaning of the loan sharking missions.

The main purpose of those missions were obviously to show a change of character in Arthur Morgan- from a heartless enforcer, a plague to the down-trodden, to a heartbroken man, ashamed of his actions, and trying to remedy what he can without the hope for forgiveness because he knows he doesn't deserve it.

The loan sharking missions are the most obvious and in your face representation of Arthur's redemption arc.

But at its core, it felt like a nod to criticisms that the 1800s romantics and naturalists had towards the concept of civilization, a direct call back to Dutch's philosophy all throughout both RDR and RDR2.

What do I mean by this?

All throughout the game, the gang tries to fight civilization in an almost Robinhood esque way- these American knights wrecking havoc for the dreams of their outlaw king. They rob the rich, who Dutch sees as the reason for America's moral failure, and those who protect these rich men because they add to those men's power. It all sounds very noble but it's a useless and bloody fight.

Mac and Davey get killed, Jenny gets killed, Sean gets killed, Kieren gets killed, Hosea and Lenny get Killed, Molly gets killed.

This gang life for a dream that'll never be realized kills people and consumes them until there is nothing left but husks of people who had dreams of their own.

The romantic dream will only be a dream and the only place it can be a reality is in books and philosophies. Civilization is the truth- it saves humanity from the hell that is anarchy or so it seems.

The gang fought against the encroaching civilization that threatened to devour the West and Arthur followed Dutch and showed the same sentiments regarding civilization- and by following Dutch, he followed that same ideal, even if his heart wasn't fully in it.

The gang life- coming to an end and no longer sustainable- showed the impossibility of this beautiful dream as it destroyed everything but that wasn't the thing that killed Arthur in the end.

Tuberculosis killed Arthur. Tuberculosis from loan sharking.

"It's legal work, Mr. Morgan." Strauss to Arthur.

The legal work killed Arthur in the end, not the shootouts or gang feuds. The civilized work killed Arthur in the end. The civilized world beat Mr.Downes, a poor, dying man trying to do his best for his family. The civilized world killed Arthur Londonderry.

The civilized world and this legal work sucked the life out of the poor so rich men can get richer and take everything they can around for their greed can not be satiated.

The civilized work, the legal work killed Arthur Morgan.

The hypocrisy of it all is so heartbreaking because despite all the bad things the gang did, the philosophy, the too idealistic and romantic philosophy they fought for, that could never be realized in the world they lived in, held truth.

And that small monocum of truth kept Dutch fighting and fighting until he no longer could by commiting suicide.

Good God I love this game.

[forthechubbies]

Roadkill°{Rated X} Drabble ->Series

Criminal!Woosan x Victim!Chubby Reader

W! MOMMY KINK!, MILF! Reader,Strong Language, Sexual themed , mentions of prostitution, Alcohol, and pissed off San yummy 😋...Wooyoung is a mean drunk by the way.

"I said take a left, dumbass!!!"

It is often mentioned that nobody can bear the burden of a guilty conscience. However, have you ever considered what happens when someone or a group of people shamelessly disregard feelings of regret, remorse, and the basic principles of humanity?

Instead, they prioritize their own selfish desires for greed, wealth, and personal gratification, even if it means hurting others.

"ITS HARD TO FUCKIN HEAR OVER THESE SIRENS"

The individuals are the Korean bonnie & clyde; Jung Woo-young; the man driving the getaway van and Choi San the man poorly reading directions. Not much is known about these menances besides them being nothing but a handful of trouble.

Cutting through a rural region facilitated the pair's escape. The guys puffed, drawing in as much breath as possible before bursting into nervous laughter between the duo.

“Oh, sh*t, that was close. Lucky us, huh?" remarked Wooyoung.

San sat in despair and rolled his eyes, saying, "Drive the fucking car.." He had had enough of his beloved for the day.

.....

The stillness between the lovers was uncomfortable following today's somewhat botched theft. San was the one who broke the stillness. "I'll be back," he said casually over his shoulder as he crossed over the motel entrance. Wooyoung huffed, hot on San's trail. "Where are you going?" he inquired, without shoes in the crisp autumn air.

"For a walk." San said, plainly

Instead of confronting San's emotions based on his actions, Wooyoung answered, "Okay." Wooyoung steps furiously into the van before speeding away into the night..l

San didn't bother giving him a moment's glimpse.

What the hell is this place?! Wooyoung was driving through this dump of a town, venting his frustration. He was cruising down the deserted streets when he stumbled upon a crappy gas station. "Just in time," he muttered to himself as he pulled up to the pump. But of course, the tank was empty. "Fuck!" Wooyoung screamed as he punched the steering wheel in anger.

....

In the depths of despair, San painfully acknowledged the vast gap of time without his foolish lover. Anxiety consumed him as futile calls left him restless. Where could that ass be?

By the roadside, the van sat motionless, as if devoid of any purpose. Within its confines, a wooyoung, heavily intoxicated, slumped over carelessly, encircled by a sea of discarded beer bottles. His supposedly peaceful slumber was abruptly shattered by the obnoxious blaring of his cell phone...again

Wooyoung bellowed furiously through the speaker. "Ugh, What..what- Ah! Shit!.... Quit goddamn yelling in my fucking ear!.. ... How the fuck am I supposed to know where the hell I am?! I just woke the fuck up!.....wah! I'm not some damn drunk-asshole! You've been a colossal asswipe all day.. I fucking saved your sorry ass and all you gave a shit about is the dead bitch on the pavement...... He. would have..fucking killed you!... You dumbass."

San's mind was filled with a disturbing idea - were they heartless murderers or courageous outlaws? The reality was horrifying. They were criminals, but taking a life was an entirely new level of wickedness. However, San couldn't ignore the fact that they were not entirely innocent either. The truth was staggering and left San in a state of shock.

During their incarceration, whispers circulated about his involvement in sinister dealings that involved the disappearance of both guards and fellow inmates. But he was not acting alone, driven by a primal instinct to survive.

However, Wooyoung was a different breed altogether. His thirst for blood was almost demonic, a rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins like a sweet poison.

He reveled in it, relishing the taste of fear and the power it gave him. It was as if he had made a deal with the devil himself, and now he was paying the price in flesh and bone.

San's point was clear: Wooyoung possessed the power to decide the fate of that man, whether to merciless slaughter him or spare his wretched existence.

The man, feeble and defenseless, posed no immediate danger. Yet, in a twisted display of sadistic pleasure, Wooyoung coldly pressed the barrel of his gun against the man's vulnerable skull, relishing in the anticipation of the impending explosion. And then, with a resounding bang, the man's life was abruptly extinguished, his blood mingling with the already crimson-stained surroundings.

In a state of intoxication, Wooyoung seized control of the wheel.

Tragically, lost in his drunken haze, he dared to shut his eyes for what seemed like a mere moment. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced through the air, jolting him awake... Shit. He hastily pulled over, compelled to investigate, only to be confronted with a shocking sight - a lifeless woman sprawled before him.

He gnashed his teeth, the very last thing he wanted was the hassle of concealing a dead body. Wooyoung's gaze crept up your limbs until it met your face...Shit, she's bleeding a bit but she'll live...I must have scared her out of her wits and she passed out. The longer Wooyoung stared, the more he discerned your profession.

At first, The school girl uniform puzzled him but there's no way in hell, Parents would allow their daughter out the door the way your dressed.

He audaciously dropped to his knees in the grass beside your form, your name tag proudly displaying "Yn" with a heart-shaped flourish. "Bunny Lounge..." he uttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing but a filthy prostitute." A humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "My dear, you are far too beautiful to be a whor-"

His intentions abruptly shifted towards your forsaken purse, mere inches away from your body. A wicked smirk danced upon his lips as he scoffed, relishing in the sinister thrill of his impending actions.

"Just hold on a minute, Sweetheart," He sneered.

With a savage force, Wooyoung tore through the contents of your purse, his hands ravaging through the remnants of your personal belongings. And then, amidst the chaos, he stumbled upon a collection of cherished family photographs, capturing the essence of your existence alongside your innocent baby twin sons.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, electrifying his twisted mind. "You... you're a mother..."

A wave of sorrow washed over him as memories from his troubled childhood resurfaced. He was raised by a single mother who tirelessly struggled to provide for him, doing whatever it took to ensure there was food on the table.

He sensually pressed his ear against your heaving bosom, captivated by the rhythmic melody of your steady heartbeat... Wooyoung wasn't the cuddlyist person in the world but he found instant relief being against your skin.

San was teetering on the edge of madness, his mind consumed by fury, when his spouse burst through the door, guzzling down yet another bottle of the delectable soju. "Daddy's finally graced us with his presence," San sneered.

Woo-young's freakin' good-looking mug was all shiny, like he'd been doused in oil or somethin'. "Sannie-ah!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" San exploded, launching himself at Wooyoung and forcefully slamming him against the door. "It's fucking 3am. Where the hell were you?"

"I... I killed an angel," Wooyoung whispered, a sinister giggle escaping his lips as he leaned in close to San's ear. "She's so soft n' sweet...like you." His tongue grazed San's stud earrings. "So I had to keep her-..I had no choice.."

San brushed off Wooyoung's words, tossing him aside like a rag doll as he stormed out of the motel room. But as he took a few steps away, doubt began to creep into his mind. Could it be possible that his drunken lover was actually telling the truth?

As he crept towards the van's rear, his heart pounded with fear. San's hands trembled as he reached for the cold metal handles of the doors. With a deep breath, he pulled them open, and his breath caught in his throat. In the center of the mattress lay a woman.No angel. your dirty body was bound and gagged, your blouse ripped open to reveal a lacy bra. The sight was enough to make San's blood run cold. He knew he had stumbled upon something truly terrifying.

San held his breath slamming the doors shut before rushing to confront the murderer. Wooyoung flinched at the sound of the door. " You look pissed." He chuckled. "Did you see my piece of heaven? Beautiful. Right?!"

Meanwhile, in the cold. As you slowly regained awareness, your foot landed on a glass bottle, knocking it against others. Bringing you up to speed on the issue.

Your heart races as you feel the panic set in. The pressure is crushing you, and you can't even sit up because of the damn rope tying you down. You look around frantically, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Are you outside? In a shed? No, it's a van. Your mind races as you try to figure out how to escape this nightmare.

"You're nothing but a filthy prostitute." A man's voice was the last thing you heard before you fully lost consciousness.

As your captors' voices grew louder, the chilling realization hit you like a ton of bricks - would you ever lay eyes on your beloved boys again? Tears threatened to spill, but you had no time for weakness.

Upon opening the doors, The men found you conscious and confused you stared at them as if their aliens. "Oh shit, She's alive." Wooyoung slurred, "See, Sannie, you hit me for nothing." He happily crawled into the van climbing up your body as you struggled. "Easy, mommy, you don't want to hurt your-"

San aggressively punished his lover upside the head. "Ya! The fuck is wrong with you?! This isn't us." He snatched his lover against the wall of the van with a Slam.

Wooyoung groaned, enjoying the feeling of being manhandled. " We're criminals, Dickhead, bad stuff is what we done." He couldn't take his eyes off your exposed legs. "We should reap the benefits. Don't you think, Sannie?"

San snatched Wooyoung's jaw forcing him to look at him. "There's a fine line between Criminals and monsters and that " He uses his head to movement towards your shaken figure. "Is going overboard!"

San had clearly had enough for the night, but Wooyoung wasn't going to let him get away with it. In a drunken rage, he snapped back, defending himself with all the aggression he could muster.

"Sleep in the damn van!" San barked at Wooyoung, not bothering to look back. "Fucking animal " He hoisted himself onto the bed, forcefully wrapping the rope that restrained your wrists around his neck, and effortlessly lifted you up.

As you observed the furious Wooyoung venting his frustration on the van, you instinctively leaned closer to San, finding some solace in his comforting presence.

..to be continued ♡

[littlest-w01f]

Cures

Eris Vanserra x Celeste (Lucien x Oc's mini-series coming soon)

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 3: Healing

Summary: After Eris was beaten bloody by his father, left abandoned in a shed, a witch finds him, she is more than willing to aid him

Cw: Wounds, blood

The sun had set hours ago, Eris was strung up in an abandoned shed miles outside any civilisation, crying was no use, and screaming for help wasn't one either, the cuts on his chest had slowly started to heal, the whip marks were cauterised, causing nothing but pain.

Eris hung limply from the chains, his head drooping forward as he struggled to remain conscious through the agony that wracked his body. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the musty odor of the decaying shed. Each labored breath sent fresh waves of pain radiating from his wounds.

Outside, the night pressed in, silent and uncaring. No saviour would come. He was utterly alone with his tormentor. A faint rustling came from the shadows at the back of the shed, his father returning. Eris tensed, dreading what new torments awaited him.

Heavy footsteps approached, hurried. "Oh, Mother," A soft voice, not his father. "What happened to you? Poor thing..." The voice tutted as gentle hands got him out of the chains.

When the female came into view, Eris' breathing got caught in his throat, her eyes were like pink diamonds, having little feline slits in them, hair to match, and her face was round, soft and innocent, contrasting her sharp eyes, concern etched over her features.

The young female, barely older than Eris himself, looked upon him with a mixture of shock, pity, and a hint of fear. Her large, gemstone-like eyes took in every detail of his battered form - the dried blood caked around gashes on his torso, the swollen bruises discolouring his skin, the vacant stare in his eyes. She let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

"Oh gods, what heartless creature did this to you?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced towards the door, she made up her mind, gently scooping him up into her arms as if he were a fragile doll.

Her touch, though gentle, sent jolts of agony coursing through his abused body. Yet there was something comforting about her warmth, her concern, it was a stark contrast to the cold brutality of his father.

"Who… who are you?" Eris managed to croak out, his voice raw from screaming. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on her, each movement causing more pain. He winced, biting down on his lower lip to stifle a groan.

"You may call me Celeste," She spoke softly, "Who left you here? Not many Fae visit this part of the woods."

Celeste's name rolled off his tongue like a soothing balm, a stark contrast to the hellish reality of his situation. He could barely believe that such a kind soul existed amidst the cruelty of his world.

"My... Father... He brought me here," Eris murmured, his words slurred from pain and exhaustion. "He said I deserved punishment." He swallowed hard, his throat feeling raw and dry. "Why are you here? This place is dangerous…"

His gaze drifted to the door again, half expecting his father to burst in at any moment, only to find Celeste instead. It was confusing, overwhelming, yet somehow reassuring.

"I'm a witch," She admits casually, waving her hand to produce a bunch of different plants and salves.

Eris watched in awe as Celeste waved her hand, conjuring up veritable herbs and ointments. Witchcraft was often spoken of in hushed tones, seen as a threat to the established order. To see it before him now, used to ease his suffering, filled him with hope.

"Witchcraft is outlawed in Autumn..." He began weakly, his voice trailing off as he stared at the array of healing items. "But I don't care right now. Please, help me."

"Yeah, because we can just outlaw faeries." Celeste snorted, reaching for a paste to put on his cuts.

Celeste's flippant remark brought a wry smile to Eris' lips despite the agony. There was a spark of defiance in her tone, a refusal to be cowed by the oppressive forces that ruled their lands.

As she applied the cooling paste to his wounds, Eris felt a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time since being dragged into this nightmare, he allowed himself to relax, trusting in Celeste's ministrations.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing to a particularly vibrant dark purple herb. "It smells wonderful."

Celeste glanced up, her pink diamond eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's Nightshade Bloom. It has remarkable healing properties. Among other things... My friend from the Night Court got them for me."

"Nightshade? Isn't that poisonous?" Eris asked, intrigued despite his weakened state. He knew the basics of herbalism in Prythian from his studies, but this was beyond anything he'd encountered.

Celeste chuckled softly, her fingers deftly crushing the petals into a fine powder. "Poison and medicine are two sides of the same coin. It's all in how you use it." She mixed the Nightshade with a clear gel, forming a thick paste that glimmered in the dim light.

Carefully, she applied the mixture to Eris' worst wounds, humming a lilting tune under her breath. The pain receded, replaced by a warm tingling sensation that spread through his body. Eris found himself relaxing into her touch, lulled by the melody. "There now, when it dries, it means you've healed."

Eris watched, mesmerized, as Celeste worked her magic. With each application of the paste, he felt his body responding, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a strange sensation of renewal. Despite himself, he found his eyelids growing heavy, the rhythmic hum of her song lulling him into a state of peaceful numbness.

"I've never met a witch before," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're… very different from what I imagined."

Celeste hummed as she moved behind him, taking care of his back, "What did you imagine witches look like?"

Eris sighed softly, the question drawing him further into a meditative trance. "An old crones, ugly and wicked," He confessed. "With pointed hats and brooms. But you… You're beautiful, kind."

A wave of warmth washed over him as Celeste touched his injured back, sending tendrils of pleasure weaving through his sore muscles. His eyes fluttered closed, his mind adrift on a sea of comfort and relief.

"And your magic… it's so gentle, so caring," he continued, his voice little more than a whisper. "Nothing like the wild storms or sudden lightning that people fear."

"Well, I could cause sudden lightening if that's what you prefer to see." Celeste joked. "Or flood this little shed."

Eris laughed weakly, the sound rough and ragged from disuse. There was something endearing about Celeste's brash humor, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of his predicament.

"That might startle me," He teased back, attempting to lighten the mood despite the discomfort still plaguing his body. "Although, I think I prefer your gentler magic."

His eyes remained shut, the sensation of the Nightshade working its wonders on his back too pleasant to risk opening them. The rhythmic cadence of her movements lulled him into a relaxed state, his worries drifting away like leaves on the wind. "Thank you, love."

"Of course, just don't tell anyone about this..." Celeste whispered softly.

"I won't..." When Eris opened his eyes, the mysterious which was gone, leaving him alone in the shed.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

[verdemoun]

Does Bill ever get a boyfriend/partner in the timewarp au like Molly does?

yes!! bill absolutely gets a boyfriend i'm just torn between it being alden curruthers or mac callander

on one hand alden: confident flamboyant gay man who was so gay he was useless at hiding it in 1899 let alone timewarping to an era where homosexuality didn't rely entirely on codewords like discouraged men? bill getting to meet this proud gay man who understands the intense 19th century social values bill has to unlearn before he can be that comfortable with himself and his sexuality? bill being in love with alden while constantly awestruck by how confident he is in spite of the time period and homophobia and very realistic chance of being hate crimed they both experienced? sharing that experience of not having the vocabulary to express what their sexuality was or even the concept of sexuality but alden still being so confident and comfortable in who he is and trying to help bill find that level of pride too?

on the other, mac callander. the way bill talks and asks about mac with that trembling optimism of maybe he's okay? bill mourning mac callander? like maybe they were both heartless men living as outlaws because that was the only way 'they' had to survive but also seeing that in each other? maybe it was a thing in canon era? the angst of mac feeling like he's choosing between bill and davey when davey refuses to even acknowledge his brother is homosexual? davey still trying to cling onto an era that is so obviously past and constantly ending up in jail then not wanting mac's help as mac becomes more comfortable admitting there's a word for what he 'is' now? bill and mac both unpacking internalized homophobia and toxic masculinity while also feeling so validated by ongoing modern era protests and progress in queer rights? toxic yaoi with a happy ending where they're both still chain smoking hard drinking ranch hands who ride horses and carry guns in modern era and don't have a tidy domestic life but unmistakably love each other?

someone teach pa moss how to make a poll or just aggressively argue which should be endgame for bill the bear king deserves happiness in timewarp

[healer-pop]

yall- imagine grinding on Outlaw!Venture to The Weeknd’s Heartless

[hotteokyu]

Bad Girl Syndrome (Coming Soon)

MINORS DNI ~ EXPLICIT CONTENT

Synopsis~ Reader and Yunho are some bad bitches. They're lovers in crime, infamous for their heartless acts. Everyone knows them. The scariest of the scariest are scared of them. They're insane. Except... there's one little secret. The lovers are so innocent behind closed doors. They've never thought about it until now, let alone done it. Sex, that is.

Word count~ TBD

Pairing~ outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader

Genre / WARNINGS ~ NSFW / EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, romance, violence, drugs, criminal activity, murder, like brutal killings, sexual assault, mention of rape, trauma, sexual tension, pet names, insensitive language, yu and y/n are super cute, it starts light but gets a bit heavy,

a/n~ I'll add more tags as I finish up the story. Also, lmk if you're interested in beta reading.... I love you guyssss!!

mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Celarthur (Arthur x Celestine)

Arthur & Celestine's love is a core part of the story now. (I love them so much...)

Lady Celestine: Navigator of the Constellations: Celestine is the "Merlin" of the series but goes by "Merlyn" instead... I've discussed this in my previous posts, but basically, she was treated like a caged bird all her life (by the Ancients). Keeping her locked up in the temple so they could have exclusive use of her future vision.

Merlyn was Celestine's alter ego.

Whenever Celestine wanted to sneak out of the temple, she'd go out incognito as Merlyn. She became a vigilante of sorts, an outlaw to the G.S.A. but beloved by the people. Protecting the common people from monsters & fixing the destruction the war left...

But more importantly, she took this form to save Arthur...

Before he took the position, Sir Arthur was originally the right-hand man of Sir Uther, the first leader of the G.S.A. who was also his mentor... and he was a tyrant. Molding him in his image, Uther had trained Arthur to be the perfect soldier... a real killer. His most powerful chess piece...

Arthur had accepted all of it; this was his lot in life. He'd justify it in his head that it was all for the "greater good"... even though it was killing him on the inside. It seemed like that was the only path he could take. Uther's influence was slowly snuffing out all the light he had inside of him... he was an empty husk. That is... until a certain wizard entered the fray.

She'd appear before Arthur, popping up every chance she got to teach him morals, giving him life lessons, (low-key) making him her accomplice for her vigilante schemes: showing him he could be more than Uther's dirty henchman.

As time went on, she realized how similar they were to each other.

Arthur was forced to be this pillar of strength, the perfect soldier, as Uther's right-hand man. As for Celestine, she was forced to be this symbol of divinity and purity. But in reality, she was nothing more than a windup doll to be seen and not heard. She was able to be at ease with him, to truly be herself with him. (Even though she technically wasn't exactly herself...)

Celestine enjoyed watching him grow; she wanted him to succeed. His bitterness stemmed from his lack of self-worth and never feeling like he was enough. Ideas that had been planted in his head by Sir Uther ... At his core: Arthur was always this kind, gentle soul with a strong heart... His talents were just being used to serve such a selfish, heartless man (Sir Uther).

It made her all the more determined to bring out the best in him and show him all the wonders life had to offer. Bring back life into those cold, dead eyes of his. And those times she'd see Arthur enjoy himself and laugh (boy, did she love that laugh of his), those were the moments she fought for...

Soon, she genuinely started to believe in Arthur... even if she didn't have these visions of the future, she knew she'd still believe in the man who stood before her... soon another feeling came about... feeling she couldn't quite describe.

At first, Arthur hated the old wizard, tricking him, dragging him on these ludicrous misadventures. And yet, somehow he was able to defeat a seasoned warrior like himself. But what really ticked him... was when the old codger would claim that he saw visions of the future and had some "great destiny." (Utter nonsense)

These were delusions of an old man...or a mere trick to avoid arrest; he was just a soldier destined to die on the battlefield. This crazy magician was no better than his master... just another chess piece to him to help further his goal. The only reason he humored these "interactions" was because there was a chance to captured this dangerous rouge. But soon, he was able to see that the old mage really did genuinely care for him.

Merlyn would ask about his aspirations, his dreams even, and supported him like no one else did. And in times of trouble, he was always right on time to save him. But above all, Merlyn showed that his life mattered... he could make something of himself... whether he was a soldier or not. No one has ever cared or believed in him like that... he had someone that was there for him.

Arthur eventually grew attached to his eccentric teacher as well. Instinctively, he began to check around... if there was a chance that Merlyn was close by. Seeking out their guidance, desiring their teachings, and missing his company. Their lessons had given him hope; the darkness that once scorned his heart started to heal. For once in his life, he had a friend.

However, there was something oddly familiar about this magical mentor. Then, through a series of events; Arthur was able to figure out that Celestine was Merlyn. Of course, he was shocked, but he didn't care he'd found "Merlyn"... but made him curious as to why she did this... especially since the personas of the two were so different.

Around the same time, he was assigned to be Celestine's bodyguard. This allowed him to see her act as Lady Celestine, and she was just as trapped (in her role) as well. They are confined by the system that raised them. They were both being used and lied to by their master for their own benefit as the two of them suffered. (No wonder "Merlyn" could understand him so well...)

Celestine knew if they ever found out her real talents, the G.S.A & the Ancient would monopolize her abilities. She only ever showed them her future vision abilities & her forging powers (she was the blacksmith of the GSA). Which is why they never suspected her of being Merlyn. The Ancients were pleased with this... she was docile and easier to control.

But this safety net came at a price... Often overlooked and seen as useless by her peers. To Uther, her very existence was an insult to the rest of the heroes of Yore. She was weak and lacked any fighting abilities. Icarus loathed her: she rejected all his experiments (since they had to go through the temple, meaning her)... claiming they were dangerous. And she wouldn't allow him to experiment on the Fountain of Dreams. (I went into more detail in a previous post link here)...

Celestine knew they all thought lowly of her... she couldn't care less about what they thought about her. But their words and cold stares still hurt her; she tolerated it... but Arthur didn't.

Arthur knew the truth; she was Merlyn... the Merlyn. The great mage that had overpowered & outsmarted them all. It enraged him; he knew how capable & talented she really was. She was amazing... they never gave her a chance.

But he knew... even if she showed her true nature, they'd never accept her...that's why she had to create Merlyn...

After realizing this, Arthur tries to strike up a friendship with her as "Lady Celestine." However, when he'd talk to her, she'd only give polite & perfect answers (kind of like Princess Rona's guard acted in the anime). Celestine was in doll mode... it almost seemed as if she was lifeless. This saddened him greatly; in her eyes, the real her was begging to come out.

But Arthur knew the key to bringing out the real her...

One day, during some downtime, Arthur brought in a chess game for them. Hoping to bring out her competitive nature. As Merlyn, she could never say no to a challenge. The rush and thrill of the game consumed her; she showed him no mercy. Dropping the lady decorum, not realizing all her sassiness was spilling through.

After she had won the game, she couldn't help but gloat... needless to say, she was not so gracious in her victory. Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight of this, "Aw, there she is..." As time went on, Arthur would do little like this that would encourage the real her to come out. It was always a triumph for him when the "Real Celestine" would come out. Her kookiness, her wittiness, her feistiness, her cute little quirks... he loved it all.

Prioritizing Celestine's comfort and happiness whenever he was with her. And would defend her honor every time she was insulted. (Even though he'd get in trouble sometimes, but he didn't care.) He just wanted to return the kindness she gave to him as Merlyn... by allowing her to be herself. (Needless to say, Arthur was pretty much smitten with her at this point.)

Meanwhile, Celestine started to become guilty of hiding her identity as Merlyn. She was becoming so close to him outside of her persona, and this didn't help her unknown feelings for him. And Arthur was being so sweet to her too... and here she was lying to him every day. It certainly didn't help these unknown feelings of hers.

(Good thing he already knows...)

However, this all comes to a head when Arthur saves "Merlyn" from nearly being captured by Sir Nonsurat. Arthur accidentally calls Celestine's name by mistake...whoops. And in that moment, Arthur lays all his cards out on the table. And even apologizing for his previous misjudging of her. Humbling himself before her, revealing his face to her for the first time.

Celestine was extremely proud of Arthur at this moment. The old Arthur would have turned her in without hesitation. To her, this was proof that Arthur had truly changed for the better. And his words touched her heart...

But she was very disappointed (not really) to find out that Arthur was handsome under there. When he was still a jerk, she'd always imagined him to have the ugliest face to match his horrible personality... like a toad (hence the nickname Wart).

Well, that image is shattered... She could still call him a "Prat," but... And she was so fond of the nickname... how was she supposed to call him Wart now?! Do you not see her dilemma?! (she still does, though it's... just more difficult to tease him now).

They return to the G.S.A. base only to find Sir Uther complaining how once again Merlyn had alluaded his grasp. Completely unaware that she was standing right behind him!

To this day, Arthur is the only one to ever find out about Merlyn's true identity. It was a secret that he & Celestine had shared: a secret that forever bonded them together... and before they knew it... they were already in love.

Fun facts / Inspo info/ more about Celarthur:

BTW...this is their theme Celathur:

I was listening to this the whole time I was creating this post; (feel free to reread the post while listening to this... <3)

Inspo/References:

The nicknames Celestine gives him (prat & wart) are a reference to Merlin (the TV series) - prat and the Once & Future King by T.H. White. (Book series & Radio drama) & the Disney movie "The Sword and the Stone". They were all my main inspiration when creating Lady Celestine overall. She's basically like Eclipsa from Star vs. the Forces of Evil.

Much like her counterpart (Disney & Book- Merlin), Celestine would put Arthur in scenarios where he had to be put in someone else shoes. Desperately trying to get Arthur to want better for himself.

But that sass comes from the ( Merlin TV series) and the banter between him and Arthur was my favorite part of the show. Their chemistry was so great... And did I ship Merthur (Arthur x Merlin)... yes I did!

The Once & Future King is my favorite retelling of the Arthurian legend if you want to listen to the Radio drama.

I got so much inspiration from this version... I highly recommend reading the book series. It's such a great read.

I also got Inspo from "The Legends of King Arthur."

Fun facts:

The vision that Celestine sees for Arthur is that he's supposed to be the match to spark the end of the dark era of the galaxy and bring forth the era of light. (Arthur is the match - Meta Knight is the spark- and Kirby is the light).

The reasons why the G.S.A called Merlyn an out law:

The Ancients regulated all magic users, and the very existence of Merlyn promoted wild magic. People would start to question their authority over it.

Sir Uther saw Merlyn as a threat; the public started to put their faith in this unregistered mage. It was the G.S.A.'s job to defend (monitor) the people. If they see Merlyn as their defender... he'd start to lose control over the public.

For Icarus, Merlyn was protecting civilians for free, which took away potential money. (Yep Icarus is the captilist)

This took so long to make because of Young Arthur's armor design (dang it, Arthur!)

About Celarthur:

Celestine's personality is very much a combination of the Disney Merlin & the TV series Merlin. She has a lot of silly quirks and bumbles and tends to lose herself when deep in thought about an idea(especially concerning her visions). She's a bit of a scatterbrain at times... But at her core, she's very wise and has a kind heart to guide her... and she had sass for days.

The name Merlin actually means Sea Fortress; which is why I gave her water powers (and bubble as well). Celestine would bubble Arthur when she was being particularly arrogant or annoying to her. To keep him in check... or to troll him (mostly that one).

Her foresight doesn't allow her to see everything (only seeing from point A to B)... and she doesn't see what happens in the middle. Which results in many of her spontaneous misadventures dragging Arthur in. "It'll all going to work out in the end, so let's just wing it... come on, prat!." Much to Arthur's annoyance... but of course, he eventually comes to love that about her.

Celestine's nicknames for Arthur: Wart, Prat, Golden Boy, and Art ( future nickname My King <3)

Arthur's nicknames for Celestine (& as Merlyn): Old codger, Wizard, Vicious Viper, Cel, Celty (future nickname My Queen <3)

Through all the telling and retelling of the Arthurian mythos, Merlin was always the one person to always believe in Arthur. He always pushed him to be better... to be the king he knew he could be.

I think that was the core reason why I chose to create a love story for Celestine & Arthur... Their dynamic: straight lace cop working for a corrupted system and is changed by a free-spirited vigilante...

Actually, I never planned to have a love story for Sir Arthur, but it was the best decision I ever made. NOW IT'S A CORE PART OF THE STORY AND I AM ONCE AGAIN MAKING MYSELF WEEP...

CELARTHUR EVERYBODY! ~

[kyouka-supremacy]

ehh sorry to bother you, but after reading beast the timeline of its events got me confused and I don't understand what each character's age is in it..

So first if we go by main bsd timeline, akutagawa was 14 when he lost his friends+first time he met dazai. So that makes akutagawa after 4 and half year time skip around 18 yo. Which means Beast is 2 years behind the main timeline.

But atsushi, kyoka and kenji don't look younger than the main timeline.. And Oda mentions Azure Apostle case happened 2 years ago, just like in the main timeline.

The only way everything adds up is either akutagawa was actually 16 in beast when he lost his friends, or Beast just has a different set up for characters' ages and incidents that happen..

Akutagawa being 16 at the beginning of beast doesn't make sense to me because of the way everything that happened there was just like heartless cur (except him killing those outlaws and dazai not recruiting him)

“How old are the characters in Beast?” - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 12,239 pages of heated debate,

I've already received asks on this here and here if you want to check them out, but they're inconclusive. I'm sorry, we just don't know :') . Everything you said is correct. As far as I know, the author never revealed any information on this (it's the number one thing I'd ask them if I ever had the occasion lol). Someone speculated that sskk's ages may be reversed is Beast, but since I see Beast as a deviation of the main timeline, I personally find that explanation lacking. The more I think about it, the more I am under the impression that the author would just say that Atsushi is 16 and Akutagawa 18, but... It *is* unconvincing, because then Kyouka and Kenji should be 12 as well, and that can't be right. I feel like the author should have just stretched the time skip to six years and half rather than four and half... (But then again I think the number four has a specific meaning in Beast. But that's a post for another time.)

[papakhan]

what are ur thoughts on bitter-root

sitting here with my hands clasped together. i have so much thoughts on bitter-root

If you've been following me for a while you'll already know that I'm CONVINCED that Bitter-roots writer only read the brief on the Great Khans and didn't pay any attention to their timeline within the games. Let me break it down for you.

The Bitter Springs Massacre was 3 years before the events of Fallout New Vegas and almost immediately following the 1st Battle of Hoover Dam. That means in 3 years Bitter-Root has gone from "child even the Khans don't consider grown enough to be a raider" to "Sergeant in a top ranking highly specialised and decorated sniper unit" that shit doesn't add up IT DOESNT ADD UP!! He explicitly says he wasn't considered old enough for his Khan initiation--which is the Khans threshold between child and adult--but he Was old enough to join the NCRarmy??? These RAIDERS thought he was too baby to be a raider but the fucking NCR said "yep sign here" HELLO?

okay let's say for argument's sake that he took a year out because he was adopted by Major Dhatri and also First Recon Snipers tend to get picked out from basic training sure sure whatever. That's still 2 years to rise to rank of Sergeant he is LITERALLY THE SECOND HIGHEST RANKED MEMBER?? IN 2 OR 3 YEARS?? okay whatever his adopted dad is pulling strings for him or something I don't know ITS STILL DUMB I'm still having to over-explain to patch up these little holes in his story

I've said it before but everything around the Bitter Springs Massacre is awfulllyyyy written. its all so so bad. Like even with laying out all the facts we do have there's still stuff that doesn't make sense. We don't know why Chance is triggered by fires as a result of Bitter Springs, etc. The thing with Bitter-Root is when he says basically that he killed his parents during the confusion UH WHEN DID HE GET TIME TO DO THAT? While he was running through the Red Pass to evacuate? no he would have been shot. In Bitter Springs itself? With that many witnesses? Even in the confusion, it would have been hard to kill two people without anyone noticing ESPICALLY if he was like firing a gun at them or something PEOPLE WOULD HAVE LOOKED idk it just doesn't make sense to me but that's a whole other thing.

to me as he is in game Bitter Root just kinda feels like the writers feable attempt at writing a "good" khan raider whose fighting for the "good guys"

My version of Bitter-Root would still be like. a child. a teenager someone as a parallel to Jerry the Punk over in the Khans. You can still have him running around Camp McCarren but yknow sticking around his dad and first recon and maybe you can have Dhatri be conflicted about Bitter-Root's dreams to join First Recon because he knows personally how awful Bitter Springs was because he was the one who had to put a stop to it and doesn't want Bitter-Root in the military at All because he doesn't want to see him grow into a heartless killing machine on Either side??? Show Bitter-Root getting blinded by revenge just as badly as Papa and all the other characters in New Vegas who are struggling to Let Go. Hell maybe he could be in the role he's in in game but he ran away from the Khans and his parents way before Bitter Springs and is more like Manny or Boone's age, and idk maybe we could have something about how he Did freeze when asked to fire on his own people or something idk anything

And this isn't me hating on Bitter-Root because I like the Khans and don't want to see anything negative about them. I do like and implement a lot of what Bitter-Root brings to the table, his parents seeming to be very staunchly of the old Khan way while the group itself has moved away makes for some Very interesting politicking within the Khans. Why else would his dad take him off to take potshots at NCR civilians if not because the Khans current government had outlawed it? Papa says outright that killing civilians is cowardly he cant be so blind that he wouldn't apply it to both sides. We also know that their chief law enforcer Regis looks out for women and cares about their independence and I cant see him being in the position of power that he's in if his opinion on women wasn't the majority yknow? So the way Bitter-Roots dad and his friends treated Bitter-roots mom goes against that. All this implies a weird subset of Khans who stick to the old New Khan ways were they teach kids to kill civilians and treat women poorly. Like a said, very interesting politicking and I love fictional politics